Date: Tue, 17 Jun 1997 16:15:02 -0500 From: Phanny Subject: SUB: CONTEST: Humor: Prose: Being a Country Kid Being a Country Kid There can be nothing like being raised in the country. Especially when, and where the closest thing to a gang is the cousins all going fishing with Grandpa on the weekend. We would fry fish in an old iron skillet and Grampa spun tales of times gone by. We often thought he stretched the truth until you could see through it, but it didn't matter. Everyone just had a good time. I was the youngest of the crew and snubbed by my older cousins and my o lder brother but I never found it to be a hardship. Besides every kid has to earn his knocks to hang with the big kids and I knew my day would come. I did have a best friend named Jericho Jones. He was the youngest kid in the black family that lived down the road. We shared the common fact of being outcast by the older kids and made a bond which was strong for many years. One of my earliest memories was the day Grandpa decided I was old enough for my first dog. This is as big a deal for a country boy, raising your own dog is a large responsibility.. Dog's were not just company but they had to earn there keep in some fashion. Some hunted and some were stock dogs. Besides these two jobs they were also the reason we never had a lock on a door. It would be nigh a fool what walked onto our property without it being made clear to the hounds he was allowed. One night a drunk did wonder up to the house. Half his backside wuz lunch for three of the hounds. I heard he quit drinking. I picked out a fine looking hound puppy and right away named him Scott. No I don't have the slightest idea where that name come from but at the time it seemed like a great idea. Grampa, I could tell, was pleased with my choice and he took no time laying out the rules. If'n he turns out to be a worthless sooner dog he has to go. If he ever gets caught suckin eggs or damages any livestock, he has to go. He believed there was nothing worse than an egg suckin dog. I knew these were the rules of the farm. They were as iron clad as the constitution and probably more strictly enforced. We played and growed that summer. Me, Jericho, and the pup were ready wh en spring took over from the cold. Scott had the makings of a good hunting dog, and was already treeing squirrels. I wuz as proud as a new papa. Several amazing things happened that spring. We got electricity and my oldest Aunt gave Grandpa a television. I wuz totally amazed. Little people scrambled around inside of a box with the amazing ability to walk through fields or ride powerful horses on the western range. All inside that amazing little box. I spent the first several days checking ever nook or hole in the box. I knew if I worked at it long enough I would be able to figure out the mystery of the box. When the grownups finally explained after spending days laughing at my unease with having the strangers in the house, I was dumbfounded. It wuz a bigger mystery to me that pictures traveled through the air and formed inside the television. My first concern wuz just what was going to happen if the pictures missed the television and formed loose inside the house. I could see a bunch of tiny Indians trying to massacre us with their tiny tomahawks. It came the season when everyone had to spend time chopping cotton, and they didn't have time for me at the end of the day. Besides, I'd just as soon play with old Jericho. He didn't beat me up, and he could really wiggle his ears. A feat which I considered to second to none. One day, Jericho wanted to see the new box we had at the house. He thought I was lying about there being little people locked up inside it. I told him it wuz a fact, but I couldn't think how to explain about the picture stuff. I wanted to be able to show him something as impressive as his ear wiggling. Jericho and I slipped into the living room while everyone was in the fie lds and switched it I watched Grandmother real careful so I would know how to turn on the television. As soon as I turned it on, that little white dot popped into the middle of the screen. Then, the picture focused on a giant dragon. The beast was breathing fire, and Jericho disappeared, screaming fer all he was worth. Being much wiser about television, I knew this monster could not get out of the box. I stayed to see how the guy in the sardine can was gonna fight against the dragon. The sardine can guy rode his horse around the dragon, guiding the horse with his knees. All the time, he was stabbing at that fire breathing rascal with a spear and slashing him with a sword. It was amazing, the fire breathing dragon went down in a pile. Then, it got real disgusting. That fellow took off the top of that tin can and started kissing this lady in a white ball gown. I turned the television off. How could they turn a great fight into a horror story? I finally found old Jericho shaking at home. He looked kinda surprised to see me. He was alright once I explained to him how television worked. I didn't explain it well and I don't think Jericho understood any of it, but no one wants to admit they are dumb. After much discussion over the slain dragon, we decided to make our own swords. We sawed up some old surveyor stakes and nailed them together. We spent the rest of that day beating our swords together in mock battle. Finally, we decided Clara, Granddaddy's old retired mule, would make a great dragon. We ran around her in a circle, whooping and poking her lightly with our swords. Scott joined the fun by yapping at Clara's heels. Although Clara stood quietly for a while and pretended she didn't mind, two horrible events took place. She waited patiently as Jericho ran behind her and then shot her back leg out in a quick jab. Jericho landed, face down, in a soft cow pie left by old Bessie, the milk cow, that morning. Then, the second catastrophe befell us. A sharp voice suddenly burst through the air and chilled our spines. "What the Hell are you boys doing with that mule?" Anyone raised on a working farm knows the only sin worse than kicking the dog is aggravating the livestock. Frightened, Jericho jumped up and ran, slinging cow pie from his face as he went. Scott took off to hide under the barn, and I was left alone to face Grandpa's anger. That night, I received the worst punishment allotted on the farm. Grandmother made peanut candy, and I was not allowed any. Grandmother did manage to slip me a little piece behind Granddaddy's back. She was the only person I knew who was brave enough to risk Grandpa's temper. The next day my punishment continued. I was not allowed to stay home. I had to go with everyone else to the cotton field. Although I was allowed to pick cotton when it was ready but I was not allowed to chop it. They knew I wuz likely to get carried away. That meant it was going to be a boring day, so I brought my sword and Scott along for company. Soon, we were playing around the wooded edge of the field. Scott and me played around the edge of the woods. I was never allowed to go into those particular woods because they were dangerous. I had been in them with Grandpa and wasn't particularly scared of them. I didn't plan on going in them that day and make Grandpa angry again. He always told me he wuz a fair man, but rules were to protect me, and if I broke them, he would beat the tar out of me. Now I don't see the fair in that but wasn't dumb enough to argue. We ran and played until we became tired. I sat down to rest and fell asleep. I don't know if it was the ants gnawing on my finger, or Scott barking in the woods that woke me. I stood and ran to the edge of the forest calling as loud as I could for that stubborn dog, but he refused to abandon his chance for squirrel dinner to come. I had to get Scott out of the woods, and decided this was surely one tim e there was an exception to Grandpa's rule. I eased cautiously into the trees. I waited for whatever Grandpa was worried about to jump out at me. When nothing did, I ran as hard as I could toward that dang dog. Fighting briars and under brush, I reached Scott. He was looking from the tree to me and barking for all he was worth. I suppose my showing up was the last straw for the poor squirrel Scott had treed. He jumped to the next tree and made a wild dash from us. This tactic did not fool Scott. He ran after the squirrel as fast as he could. I tried to call him back, but he was too excited to obey. I followed him into the woods, but could not keep up in the thick brush. Soon the barking stopped, and for the first time I realized I could be in deep trouble. I did not know where Scott was, and was not real sure how to get back to the field. I started to run aimlessly through the brush. When I tired, I was standing by a small stream and completely turned around. Suddenly, I heard something crashing through the woods toward me. Just as I turned to run, Scott burst through the underbrush. He jumped at me and knocked me to the ground. Two wet paws pressed to my chest, he happily licked my face. I was glad to see him. I knew he could find his way out of the woods but I just didn't know how to explain to an overgrown puppy that this was not just another innocent adventure. I decided to start walking in the direction I hoped was toward home. I hollered as I walked. I had been in the woods so long, I knew everyone would be searching for me. This meant if I was lucky enough to get out that my hide would be hung out ta dry for breaking yet another rule. As I walked and hollered, I realized it would be dark in about another hour and no one could search those woods at night. With the fear of spending the night in the woods, I started to run again. Out of breath, I stopped under a large oak tree and handled the situation like most kids. I cried as hard as I could. I stayed under the oak tree as the sky turned dark and night fell hard u pon me. I was too scared to move because I knew I could move deeper into the forest. I had never been really alone before, much less alone in the dark. I was hungry and scared and all the creature stories Grandpa told me suddenly loomed heavily on my mind. The only thing to console me was Scott. He laid down next to me with his head in my lap. I didn't sleep at all. The animal sounds in the dark seemed to pierce my heart. I shivered when an old owl hooted in the distance and giant eyes peered at me through the underbrush.. All night, I prayed to God to let Grandpa find me. I promised him I would not be bad and disobey anyone ever again. It was a long night. When day finally broke, I was desperate for a plan. I did not want to sit under the oak tree forever. Scott scampered off to hunt his breakfast while I sat staring at the morning sky. A leaf floated down from the oak tree and I looked to see where it came from. I couldn't tell, but I noticed the tree right next to it had moss. I jumped like I had been bit. Moss grew to the north side of a tree. I remembered the old tree out back, had moss on the far side. I looked at the rising sun so I would have a marker. Suddenly I thought I wuz Daniel Boone. I called Scott, and took off in a run toward what I hoped was home. I found other trees and readjusted my bearings occasionally. After several hours I came to an open field. I forgot my hunger, and all the scratches. I did not recognize the field, but I was sure the fence line would lead me to people. I saw a herd of cattle in the center, and decided to try cutting right across the field. Another bright move. We had many cows on the farm, and I had no reason to be scared. Then the biggest bull I ever saw stepped from the herd and scratched the ground with his front hoof. We stood eye to eye. He looked at me as if he intended on mounting me on his wall, like one of them jungle lions. He was becoming more enraged by the second, and I wuz froze in place.. I somehow knew if I ran, he wuz gonna run me down. If I stayed, sooner or later, he would run at me with all he had anyway. I suddenly wished I wuz still lost in them woods. Scott was beside me growling ferociously. When the bull charged, he ran at him like he were ten foot tall or something. I knew my only chance was to run for the fence while Scott tangled with the bull. As I ran past, Scott latched onto the bull's nostrils in a death grip. The bull slung him over his shoulder and blood streamed from his torn nose. Scott hit the ground with a thud and let out a yelp of pain. This did not stop him fer a second. He ran back to the bull and nipped at his heels. The bull chased him in a circle while I ran as hard as I could. I felt Scott's only chance wuz if that danged bull got dizzy and fell down. As I ran, I noticed people racing across the field toward me with pitchforks in their hands. One man scooped me up like a sack of flour and carried me back to the fence. The others expertly ran the bull off. Scott was limping, but safe from the roaring bull. Within the hour, we were both safe back home. After being hugged, I had to listen to a lecture that was really downright unnecessary. I remembered my prayer and explained to everyone that I had no intentions of being bad again. And, Scott was a hero. His wounds were cleaned and he was fed a meal fit for a king. My promise lasted all night.