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Don and His Constant Bragging

He had been a long time friend, for may years, may he rest in peace. The one thing I knew for sure was that when the phone rang, I was sure it would be Don again. He had done something spectacular or was about to do something great. It got to be old after a while. Sure he didn’t have much, but he had to constantly reminded me about it.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault you left your brains in your other pants. Or stood behind the door when the good lord was passing out brains and thought he said trains so you ordered a one track set. Don’t blame me!” Don would say.

On this one occasion, he had called me to tell me about his job and how early he had to get up in the morning so he could get started on the daily routine of driving the city garbage truck. He even had a helper now, this was a promotion for him since he had started out on the back of the truck.

I was complaining about the frost on the windshield of my pickup, so thick I had to use a metal ice scraper in the morning. This is the middle of December, its about 22 above in the daytime, a little chillier at night.

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He promptly told me I should get up a little earlier and go out, start my pickup and let it defrost the window. I told him I couldn’t do that, because the cop across the street would give me trouble about leaving my car idling unattended. “I don’t have that trouble in my neighborhood he says, I have good neighbors.”

I reminded him that my people in my neighborhood were not of the same ethnicity as the one he lived in. “My neighbors are not from south of the boarder.” that didn’t faze him, he still called me lazy. So I thought maybe I should do something to give him something else to do besides brag. He told me I could always put newspaper on the windshield, I told him it would just freeze and be a bigger mess. “Ha ha, too bad you are such a lazy old bugger.”

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Not… A… Real…Thing

I was going to a college close by to where he lived, and when class was over, it would be late in the evening. The perfect time to stop by and fix him up I thought. And that is just what I did. I put a small plastic water bottle in the pick up on my way to school that evening, and several pages of the morning paper I had.

I had the bottle wrapped up so it wouldn’t freeze, and couldn’t wait for class to end. I made a bee line for his house right after it ended. When I got there, I parked right across the street from his house, I could see he was watching TV. Now I get out and go over to his pickup and got inside, he never saw me.

I took the water bottle and sprayed the inside of his windshield and waited a few. It wasn’t very long and it had turned to ice! I repeated it again and this time I placed paper on the wet ice before it froze again. I did this process for about 3 layers of newspaper, I put it on thick.

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That afternoon, I got a phone call from Don. He said he knew it was me, said it was something that I would do. Seems that he got off to a late start, and hurried out to the pickup, didn’t see the paper because it was dark and real cold. He thought it was just heavy frost on the windshield. Turned on the heater and went back inside.

When he came out, the window was not thawed out! He couldn’t understand why. Then he found the newspaper, that made a big mess for him because now he was in a hurry. Little pieces of paper got into the vents and were blowing all over as he was driving down the road. Even when he came home later that day. That did the trick, he didn’t call and brag quite as much anymore.

 

Those were the good old days, we did a lot of antics together while we were in the National Guard, it was always good clean fun and our reputation did spread. There might be a story posted soon, please come back by to find out on “what happened on Pops perspective.”

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Keeny’s Chickens

Short story about some chickens, thieves and a kid with a Daisy B-B Gun

I was maybe 11 or 12 years old and summer fun for me usually meant spending my spare time hunting sparrows. I had bought an old Daisy B-B gun from a neighbor kid earlier for three dollars. I had saved the money I had made by selling pop bottles I had collected.

Behind my old neighborhood ran a river which which was where I did most of my hunting. On the same side of the river bank sat a neighbors old chicken pen, with some chicken coops and another pen that had turkeys in it. Since the sparrows I was hunting had became wary of my perusing them, I needed to find a way to spot them before they saw me. Upstream a bit was a big old cottonwood tree so I figured it would be a good place to hunt from.

I climbed into the scraggly old branches and found a good place to sit hidden behind the foliage where I could wait for the birds to reappear. While I was setting there, a couple of what I would call scruffy migrants came walking down the river bank toward me. These two guys stopped under me and started talking about getting into the pen and grabbing a couple chickens.

After looking at the woven wire fence along the backside of the pen, they decided that the wire was pretty loose and it could be easily picked up with their bare hands. So they walked over to the wire and pulled it up just enough for one of them to start to crawl under. It was after he had crawled about half way under the wire that I carefully took aim at his behind and pulled the trigger.

When it hit him, he violently reared up trapping his shirt and his partners fingers in the woven wire fence. The shot one started hollering about a bee stinging him in the butt and his partner screeched in pain about his fingers being caught in the wire. All of the noise caused the chickens to panic and they started to frantically run around squawking.

This caused the turkeys in the next pen to start running around gobbling, all that noise woke up old Bosco, the neighbors dog. The dog barking alerted the neighbor who was working in a tool shed around the corner from the chicken coop. Stepping out, he spotted the two idiots who were still caught in the fence. That old man ran out tearing around the corner of the coop and headed for the fence waving a hammer.

The two would be chicken thieves suddenly tore loose from the fence and ran off the other way down the bank of the river. I thought the old man would turn the dog loose on them, but he didn’t.

I stayed up in the tree for a long time afterword because I knew about that old man. I had learned long ago he was quite mean. If that dog saw me he would start barking again, and I would be in big trouble. Besides I was still excited about all of had happened. Mom would have really been mad that I was hunting birds and even more disturbed if I told her I shot someone, she never found out.

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Believe it or not! Farm pest control for sparrows is a big thing.