More Quickies
Here’s Just a few more short memories lingering in the depths of my brain needing to be released before Alzheimer’s sets in.
More Quickies
Fuzz Lips
When I was about 17 years old, I was sleeping in the back bedroom of our home on 13 Stark Street in Phillips, Texas, when I was awakened by noises outside in the backyard. We had windows with fine screen on them and I always slept with the windows open in the summertime. It was very dark outside, and I put my face up very close to the screen to try to see what was out there. All of the sudden a huge yellow cat suddenly appeared in front of me with his claws extended and grabbed on to the screen one inch from my face. The cat had jumped all the way from the ground and just hung on the screen just in front of my face. It scared me so bad that I fell off the bed backwards and busted my lip on the chest of drawers and I came very close to crapping my BVD’s. The cat was our large yellow tom cat my brother and I called “June June”. I think this one incident qualifies as one of the most frightening incidents of my life.
Old June June just appeared out of nowhere right in front of my face causing me to fall backwards off the bed. This incident came close to literally scaring the crap out of me.
Piggy Possum Tail
My uncle Harold and Aunt Bueldine had a wiener dog name Pickle. They had fed him well over the years and he was so fat his stomach almost touched the ground when he walked. My aunt had a low coffee table in her living room that old pickle always walked under when he was passing through the room. He had rubbed all the hair off his tail over the years walking under that table and his tail looked like a possums tail. My Day always named animals how he saw them and he started calling Pickle by “Piggy Possum Tail.” We all went on a trip to the lake one day and my Dad was curious to see if Piggy Possum Tail could swim. He took him into 3 feet of water and held he upright in the water. Piggy Possum Tail would start pumping those short legs and immediately he would roll over on his back. He tried it about 3 or 4 times and he would roll onto his back each time. He then brought him back to shore and let him go. He told me in all his life he had never ever seen a dog that couldn’t swim until that day. So old Piggy Possum Tail was some what of a unique dog in his book.
That’s my cousin Scott holding Piggy Possum Tail in his front yard in Phillips, Texas.
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Johnny
When I was in the fifth grade I had a teacher named Mrs Willis. There was this kid in the class named Johnny. One day we came back from lunch and the teacher was not there yet, so Johnny decided to get in the supply cabinet at the side of the room. Mrs Willis came back and started her afternoon lessons. She did not know he was missing and continued for about an hour. Some girls had started giggling and she began to suspect something was up. She looked around and asked…”Does anyone know where Johnny is?” One of the girls pointed a the locker and Mrs Willis said…”Come on out Johnny.” The locker door popped open and out came Johnny. The whole room went into an uproar of laughter. Johnny walked straight up to the teachers desk and put his right hand out. Mrs Willis’s punishment was always a few hard hits to the palm of the hand with a wooden ruler. All the boys in the room were having a contest to see who could get the most ruler hand hits by the end of the year.
OK, Johnny come on out of that storage locker and get your hand licks.
Tamara
When Tamara was about 4 years, my Dad and I were fishing at a lake called Meadow Lake up ihe Wolf Creek Pass from South Fork, Colorado. We decided we would go further up the mountain to a lake called Shaw Lake and Tamara asked if she could tag along. We headed up the mountain and started fishing the lake. My Dad ripped some gas that was very loud and didn’t tail off for a second or two. I said to Tamara…”..Granddaddy let a little toot” . Tamara then said in a loud voice……”That wasn’t a little toot, that was a giant loud fart.” My Dad just rolled on the ground laughing about what she said. My Dad would tell that story everytime he saw Tamara after that. The last time I heard him tell that story, he was 82 years old.
Well, it was a giant loud fart and definitely not a little toot.
Thank You for reading More Quickies,
Bill