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
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
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
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