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More Hoppy Stories

My friend always makes me laugh.

I See My First Nekid Woman.


One summer day, I think I was 8, I was told to mow the lawn. All we had was an old,iron wheeled push lawn mower. No motor. It was boy powered. It took me near all day to mow with that thing. To make matters worse, my 4 year old brother Daryl, was constantly running, standing or sitting in front of the mower. But, mom asked me to watch him while she, granny and my sister Angel did some housework. Dad and gramps were off somewhere in the truck, probably another farm auction. My big brother Ike went to town on some pretext. Ike had a new girl friend who worked at the 'he ain't here bar & grill'. So, I didn't expect to see Ike until maybe tomorrow. So, I was stuck with Daryl. Then I got an idea to get him out of my way. I ran up to my room and found the old, cheap pair of handcuffs Ike gave me. He warned me not to lock them because the key didn't always work so well. Outside, I ask Daryl if he wanted to play cops and robbers. Sure. So, I told him he's the robber and chased him a bit, wrestled him around in the grass, which he liked, then told him he's under arrest. We needed a jail. The old wooden wheeled farm wagon parked behind the garage gave me an idea. I took him to it, told him to get under it and pretend the wooden wheel spokes were jail bars, then I cuffed him by one wrist to a spoke. I said he was sentenced to 10 years, I'd be back to let him out then. He was fine when I left. Well, I finished the yard about the time dad and gramps got home. It was almost supper time so we all washed up and seated ourselves at the table. Mom looked at us, then asked where's Daryl. Oh s**t, I jumped up and ran out to the old wagon. There he was, asleep in the shade under the wagon. He'd been crying and peed himself. I woke him while trying to unlock the cuffs. Damn, the key wasen't working. Mom kept calling and finally come out to see what was taking so long. She got dad and gramps. Dad couldn't open the cuffs either. I could imagine a whipping coming. Gramps had a look at them, got a thin feeler guage out of the garage and opened them in no time. A trick he learned the hard way, he said. Well, I got to eat supper but had to go to my room right after. I was tired anyway. I wanted to get an early start in the morning, on my chores. Then maybe, a movie if Ike could be persuaded. The next morning I was up early. Breakfast was being prepared as I ran out the back door and to the outhouse. My bladder was about to burst. I flung open the outhouse door and...WAAAH!. There sat a totally naked woman. Quick as I could tear myself away, I ran behind the workshop to urinate. Back in the kitchen I stood there, eyes still bugged out, trying to speak. Mom asked what in the world was the matter. I stammered out about the naked woman right there in our outhouse. After they all got done laughing it up, mom told me Ike's gal pal came home with him last night. She was wearing Ike's robe when she went out there but must have taken it off to do her business. I got a biscuit throwed at my head by granny when I mentioned the girl had big melons. Gramps just cackled and grinned.
Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-03

Cowboy Movies I Shouldnt Have Seen



Everything I shouldn't know I learned in movies. My left arm was barely healed from my breaking it while trying to jump from the hay loft and grab a rope, sliding to the ground like a movie hero I saw, when I saw another great western movie with lots of indians in it. In the movie, the most awesome thing was when the indians shot flaming arrows into the fort. That made me remember, I had an old bow in my closet. A few target arrows too. So, one fine day, I hauled out my bow, my two arrows and headed for our junk yard behind the barn lot. My plan was simple. Tie something around the arrows, dip the ends in oil or gas, light one and let fly. What could go wrong? In the junk I found an old rubber inner tube. Cutting a strip off it, I wound the strip around the arrow shaft's front end and loosely tied it. Then I dipped the arrows end in a small can of gas I brought along and lit it. I let the rubber burn until it was getting runny and smoking nicely, nocked my arrow, drew back and let fly. The arrow arched nicely out into our front pasture, splashing down in the creek. The runny, burning rubber however, slid back off the arrow shaft when the arrow was suddenly released, falling off and sticking to my left arm. Ike saw me run screaming around the barn arm afire, to the water tank and dive in. I was sitting in the water, sobbing like a baby when Ike got there. My arm was red, blistering and black where the rubber was stuck to it. Ike took me right in to see the doc without telling anyone. After the doc salved up my burns and wrapped my arm, he ordered Ike to bring me back the next day for another look. Then he asked can't someone keep this kid away from cowboy movies? Adding heaven help us all if he ever gets a gun and horse. Ike bought me a ice cream soda then took me home to face the music. Gramps wondered if those movies showed any scalping and if it was safe to let me around knives and pointy things. Dad just asked how much longer was I gonna think I was Red Ryder or someone. My arm healed but has a big scar tissue area. Great days, those.
Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-03


Tire Rides



Two cousins lived on a farm one road over West of our place. Ed and George. They were about my age. One day they rode their bikes over to hang out. We were poking around our junk yard when one of them picked up an old truck tire carcass. 'Hey hop, wanna go for a tire ride down the hill yonder'? Yonder was our front pasture. It was a long, not too steep hill, that ended at a creek at the bottom. The creek was only a few inches deep, except where I dug a deeper pool. 'We'll get wet' I pointed out. 'So what. It's hot today'.
So, off we went, pushing that truck tire up the long hill. George went first. We pulled the sides of the tire open so George could wedge himself in, then shoved him off. Just as we expected, the tire rolled downhill, leapt off the creek bank and fell over in the creek, downstream from the pool. George pried himself out by the time we got there, but was too dizzy to stand for a few minutes. Ed went next, then me, then Angel. We were all wet and mud covered but laughing until Daryl wanted to ride. I said no and Daryl started crying. 's***, let him go. He'll just cry until we do', Angel advised.

So, we wedged Daryl into the tire. About two tire revolutions into his ride, the screaming began. Daryl must have been struggling to get out because the tire began wobbling, turned at an angle and went off the creek bank into a pool I had dug out. We ran down the hill, wrestled the tire out of the waist deep water. Poor Daryl. He had been under for a short while, so dizzy he didn't know which way up was. As he was freed from the tire he vomited and dirtied himself. Ed, George and I got his clothes off and washed him up in the creek. I cleaned out his underwear and overalls as best I could. Since he was always having little accidents, I thought no one would think anything else happened. Silly me.

After we got Daryl cleaned up and calmed down, we rolled the tire back to the junk pile. Ed and George said goodbye and peddaled off on their bikes. That evening at supper, Daryl started telling the tale of how we all tried to drown him by stuffing him in a tire and rolling it into a pool in the creek. Mom and granny hugged him, clucking over the little critter like two hens.

Dad gave Angel and me a good yelling at, more chores to do and forbid me from digging pools in the creek. Ed and George couldn't come over for awhile. Fun summer days, those.

Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-05



Limrats N Me
One fine fall evening about suppertime, sheriff Hagan drove into our back yard. The sheriff always tried to time his visits to our house near meal times. The sheriff and dad were friends from their boyhood days so the sheriff was invited in to stay for supper. Dad, gramps and sheriff Hagan sat at the table making small talk, smoking and sipping from gramp's fruit jar of homemade whiskey. My sister Angel sat out the dishes and silverware, then the food was brought out and sat in the center of the table. We were having freshly killed squirrels, baked in covered baking dishes with bacon strips over each piece and mashed 'taters, gravy, peas, fresh baked rolls and apple pie. Some folks frown on eating squirrels because they are related to rats. But, it's all what's in the diet. Rats eat garbage. Squirrels eat nuts and corn . The sheriff was on his third quarter of squirrel, second helping of 'taters and second roll when he came out with the purpose of his visit. 'I loves fresh killed lim'rat (squirrel). 'You git these Ike'? 'No sir'. says Ike, my older brother. Everyone was looking at me. Then little brother Daryl pipes up, 'Hop did it. I seen him comin over the back pasture with a whole big bunch of 'em an his gun'. Sheriff looked at me. 'That right Hop'? I owned up to it. Sheriff just grinned and said ol' Herman, our unfriendly cousin who owns the farm behind ours with the over 200 acres of great timber but won't let us hunt there, saw me headin for home with my rifle and a big ol' bulging burlap bag. Said he told us to stay off his place some time ago. The adults knew I was hunting there. I had become hooked on lim'rat hunting after going out with Gramps and Ike a few times. Gramps hauled out an old single shot .22 bolt action rifle. A farm auction buy, no doubt. It had a very long barrel so gramps sawed off a hunk, shortened the stock so it fit me, and replaced the front sight. Gramps said lim'rat hunting was good practice for deer hunting. Teaches patience, he said. I practiced until I could hit empty soup cans regularly and set out for the back 40 early one morning. We didn't have much timber and the only lim'rats were the few in the walnut trees along the edge of our barnyard. There weren't enough so I decided to leave them alone since I needed 8 or 10 to feed us for a dinner.
The first lim'rat I shot on cuz Herman's place drew the unwanted attention of Herman. He caught up to me before I could get over the line fence, and read me the riot act. At home, I told Ike about my run in with cuz, and that cuz heard my shot. Ike said he knew just what to do, come on we are going to town. We parked in front of Stan's hardware, gun and bait store on the town square. Ike explained what he wanted and Stan brought it out. One 50 round box of .22 CB caps. Ike asked if Stan had more adding that the way Hop shoots, we'll need a box car full. Stan brought out 8 more boxes saying that's all he had.

When we got home Ike explained that CB caps fired a light weight bullet with mostly the primer for power. Very quietly. Behind our barn Ike demonstrated the best ranges to shoot, let me practice and told me to dress in clothing the color of the woods. Browns, black, green or gray. No bright colors. Get close to my game, make head shots and don't let Herman see me. It worked like a charm. I brought home many a lim'rat dinner. And that's Why I was discovered. I so thinned out cousin Herman's lim'rats that it took me near all day to get a good bag. And, I was hunting dangerously close to Cuz Herman's barns. Early one morning, I saw him round a corner. He saw me as I was moving to another location, bellowed at me and gave chase. Fat ol' Herman was no match for a scared kid, even one carrying a rifle and bag of lim'rats.

Back to the supper table. Sheriff Hagan said he'd tell our cuz that he warned us and we said we would stay away. I agreed. Sheriff took a big gulp from the fruit jar, thanked us for the excellent supper, and left. So ended my lim'rat poaching days.

Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-2005