A slice of a southern writer's life:

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Paperboy attacked by wild Chihuahuas

It's a durn fact that paperboys have just about the worstest job in the whole entire world. Yeah, you durn tooting they do, and let me tell you why. Heck, it's okay when it's kinda nice out and they ain't no dogs around. Uh, huh, it's the dang dogs and the weather that gives us paperboys fits. Let me tell you just one really true...well nearly true story about when I was jumped by a pack of Chihuahuas. Naw, I ain't kidding. I was attacked by a whole bunch of them right down passed Kennedy corner. Now this might sound a little strange 'cause as you know, Chihuahuas is kinda little. Heck, when they attacked I just started laughing. This is how it went: I had just drawed back to chunk the paper when I heard this high, squeaky barking and shoot, here come about six of them little dogs, and you wouldn't believed it, they ran right under the gate. Well, I started laughing. You know it really did seem funny to see a whole pack coming snarling and barking like they was gonna eat you alive, when they's no bigger than a big rat. But shoot, they just kept running and before I knew it I was surrounded. They was snapping at my ankles and then it got real serious---you know it was like a bunch of them fish from South America that's about the size of a big sunfish, but they's got sharp teeth just like a Chihuahuas and them fish will plum eat you up. I guess right about then was when I felt some little teeth nip my ankle. Wow, I hollered like a stuck pig the kicked that danged dog like a football. That was a stupid thing to do 'cause it was like blood in the water. Heck, it was the momma dog and she howled like she was dying---course she wasn't---'cause she just rolled a few times, snarled and shoot, all six of them worthless dogs came after me. Guess they didn't like me kicking their momma, and when that I started doing what I later called my Chihuahua dance. Now they had me on the run and I jumped and skipped down the street with that pack of little dogs nipping at my heels. It wouldn't have been so bad, I guess, if that was all there was to it. But no, not on your life. Right next door to the Chihuahua house lives the prettiest girl in the seventh grade, Rosalie, and you might know, her daddy had just sent her out to get the paper when I come skipping by chased by 6 snapping little dogs. Yeah, she laughed...but then I stopped 'cause I looked like such a idiot---and wouldn't you know it, one of them danged dogs latched on to my foot and I was hopping around swinging a little dumb dog and yelling like a Panther had a-holt of me. Shoot, I finally got that dog to turn loose and I remember something---dogs are a-scared of a rolled up paper. Boy, I grabbed one of them papers out of my bags and I scattered dogs like nothing you've ever seen.

"Ahaaa! Take that that you sorry little dog!" Well, evidently, that was another dumb move 'cause Rosalie started yelling at me for beating up a bunch of flesh-eating dogs.

"Richard, you made that poor little dog whine. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Huh? Rosalie, them dogs bit me twice and nearly brought blood."

"A 12 year old boy picking on little dogs. You are a bad person."

See, I told you paperboys have some really bad stuff happen---and that danged Rosalie told everybody at school that a pack of tiny dogs chased me down the street.

Paperboys don't get no respect.

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