Monday, 08 June 2009

• Story of Bob (part one)

  So I says to Bob, I says, you can’t do that! You don’t know all the facts involved! And he says to me, he says, I do too! Crazy woman, you ain’t got no idea of all them complications! All that thar book larnin’ is giving you far too many high falootin’ indears. I think yous gots ta go and get a book ta burn it, not ta read it! Rots your mind! Luckily, a’course, I didn’t pay him no mind, see, but still I wasn’t too pickled by the whole deal.

  So, after Bob gone an’ left, I made sure I found mah shotgun. I said to myself, I said, if Bob thar is gonna be all condescending and whatnot, I gotta make sure I’m ready! If he tries nothing, I’ll blow his there head clean off! ‘Course, I wasn’t such a good shot since that dang pig went and kicked my eye, but nonetheless I could hit the backside of a bucking bronco at 20 paces. So, I gots my shotgun, and I went out into the barn to try and rangle up some support from Billy, the farm hand. 

  

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  Billy and I had been friends for a while now, but I wasn’t sure I could trust him. Him and Bob were real good friends, see. Them two had just gotten back from a tractor pull, and you don’t go to one o’ them with a fella you ain’t good and close to. Lucky like for me, though, he wasn’t too keen on Bob at the moment, on account o’ the fact that Bob had eaten the pointer of his big foam finger at the pull, thinking it was cotton candy. So, Billy was sour, and I figured the time was ripe for my asking o’ him to join my side.

  

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  Billy, I said, Billy, listen here. Bob said to me, he said, I’m all too full o’ high falootin’ idears! Now, you knows me, Billy, I ain’t one to take no crap from nobody! So, Billy, we gots ta do some’in’ about it. I’m thinkin’ we take this here shotgun, an’ we go blow ‘is head off! An I waved my gun about, all dramatic-like.

  Lucky for me, Billy had gone and bent over to pick up his own gun from the bundle ‘o hay at his feet, ‘cause my finger went an’ slipped clear onto the trigger, and dang near blow’d his brains out. That would’a been trouble for me, ‘cause I reckon blood’d be pretty hard to clean off the barn walls. I didn’t mind so much the thought o’ getting blood on the inside of the house, ‘cause it was a tip most days anyhow, but the farm was where the animals lived! Them cows fed me an my entire brood o’ kids, so I figured I gots ta protect ‘em from the sight o’ blood if I can’t do nothin’ else.

  Anyway, at this point after all my soliloquizing Billy an’ I had nearly reached the house, an’ I think by now both of us felt good an’ ready to do of a murder. Unfortunately, when I got to the door, I couldn’t open it! That dang Bob had gone and shoved some chair or some’n’ ‘gainst the other side, an’ I couldn’t budge it! I told Billy ta give it the ol’ shoulder, but he doggone-well bruises easier than a peach, so I had to do it myself. ‘Course, I got a pretty fair set o’ shoulders after all that cow-chucking we practise down this way, in order ta move them cattle from one field to the next. It don’t hurt ‘em much, an’ it’s a lot o’ fun, but it sure does tire them arms ‘less you know what your doin’.

  

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  After I battered the door ta little bits, I went to pick up my gun, but I couldn’t find it nowhere! Then it went an’ dawned on me that Billy had also gone an’ disappeared! Dang it, I yelled, you get back here wit’ my gun, Billy, but he ain’t nowhere to be seen, so I went into the kitchen to fetch me a knife. Then, I thought about it, and picked up a fryin’ pan, too. If Billy took my gun, I’d need some’n’ ta deal with him as well as Bob. I figured they were likely both against me now, but that didn’t halfin’ matter now much to me. Killin’ one measly coward of a man was as easy as killin’ two.
  

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