When I found out I would be spending the entire summer of 1957 with my grandmother, I was ecstatic. When Mom and Dad dropped me off, I got a big hug from my mother as she said, "Rabbit, you know I'm going to have another baby. It's going to be real busy at home getting ready for it and everything. It's going to be lonely without you. Are you sure you'll be okay with your grandma?"

Giving an obligatory sniffle, I replied, "Yes Ma'am. I reckon I'll be just fine." She and my dad walked slowly toward the car. Before getting in they took a quick peek back. My grandma had her arm around my shoulder. Mom and Dad waved. I waved back. I'm sure that Mom thought I was all sad.

I guess Grandma thought I would be sad too, so she made one of my favorite dinners. We had fried chicken, fresh sliced tomatoes, green beans, fried okra and rice topped with white milk gravy. I'd mention the buttermilk biscuits, but they weren't special. I pretty much got them every day.

After dinner, we sat on the front porch and rocked. I wanted to run up to Virge's cabin, but thought it best to wait. Grandma told me he was going to be down first thing in the morning to work on her front fence.

I was anxious to see Virge, but my Grandpa had me all excited about the evening. He asked me if I wanted to stay up and listen to the  heavyweight boxing championship of the world on the radio.

As a younger man, my grandpa was a boxer. According to his carefully maintained cigar box full of clippings, he did pretty well as a welterweight. He boxed in local textile leagues and state tournaments. Perhaps because of him, I followed professional boxing through the sports pages of the newspapers. I was thrilled to stay up and listen. The fight was between American, Floyd Patterson and Swede, Ingmar Johansson.

We settled in and munched on Grandma's popcorn. I was drinking my iced tea and remember asking my grandfather how come his tea was in such a small glass and didn't have any ice in it. The boxing match started and it was very exciting. Both fighters were down on the canvas a couple of times and then Patterson seemed to be getting the best of Johansson. To me, it was pretty much a "black and white" issue. I wanted Patterson to win because he was an American, Johansson from Sweden. Well, it was a "black and white" issue for my grandpa too. He wanted Johansson to win because he was white and Patterson black.

In the sixth round, Patterson knocked Johansson down and out. My grandpa leaped out of his chair and ripping the radio from the table, hurled it through the window. The only sound after the shattered glass was my grandpa muttering, "Oh Shit!" Reaching through the window to retrieve the radio, he sliced his arm open on a shard of glass hanging from the sill. I woke Grandma up and she rushed Grandpa to the emergency room.

This actually made an article in the local newspaper the next day. The headline while not complete, told much of the story. "Heavyweight fight in Sweden sends local man to emergency room."

I got to see Virge after all that night. He came down to sit with me while they went to the emergency room. I swept up the glass and Virge replaced the window panes. Like in many of his tasks, he patiently showed me how to place glass.

By the time I went to bed that night I was tired but excited. This was my first day and the adventures had already begun.

Since I had gotten to bed so late, my grandma let me sleep in a little bit. Of course, sleeping in has a whole new meaning in the rural South. It meant she let me sleep in past sun-up. I was up by seven, had breakfast, gathered the eggs in and then joined Virge for one of his chores.

If you're going to be doing outside work in West Central Georgia in June, you best get an early start. Virge had been working for an hour when I got there at eight. The job today was pulling honeysuckle vines and weeds away from her front fence. We had been working for an hour, and it was only nine. My dog Skippy was supervising. He would interrupt his nap under the shade of a magnolia tree, look up and check on us from time to time.

Skippy got up abruptly and started barking. Virge and I stopped working to see what got his attention. Old man Caruth was walking up the road toward us. You could tell it was him, because he walked kinda gimpy. As my grandpa used to say, he had a hitch in his giddy-up. He was a tall, gangly, white man, always dirty and smelly, with a smile like a picket fence; some white teeth, but lots of gaps. Folks used to say that old man Caruth was good for nothing. I'm here to tell you that ain't exactly so. He sure could raise watermelons.

He stopped at the front yard. Skippy wandered over and sniffed him. With that done, he lifted his leg high and peed on his pants leg. Old man Caruth kicked out at him, yelling, "You dumb damn dog!" I took a look at Virge for a sign, and didn't see even a glimmer of a smile. I said nothing. I always thought Skippy was pretty smart, though my grandma did usually refer to him as that damn dog.

"Howdy Rabbit. Is your grandpa home?"

"No, sir, he ain't. He and Grandma drove into town to sell some eggs at the farmers' market."

"Well, don't matter. I'm glad to see old Virge here anyhow. Virge, do you know any young nigras that'll come pick my watermelons? I pay five cents a piece if they pick em and load em in the truck."

Virge waited a few seconds like he was thinking it over, and then replied, "No, sa - can't say as I do. I'd do it myself, but I'm eighty-seven years old."

"Well, Virge, if you think of somebody, jes let me know. Rabbit, since you a neighbor and all, you can come down, pick whatever melon you want for 25 cents." With a scowl at Skippy and spittin tobacco juice his way, old man Caruth headed out. Skippy walked over to where his pee dripped of old man Caruth's britches. He proceeded to pee again. People claim that dogs are just animals and basically dumb. I could swear though that Skippy was smiling. The look on his face did all but say, "Dumb damn human."

I waited until he got down the road some, and turning to Virge, I asked, "Didn't you just tell me that Joe Leslie and Sugar Butts were looking for some work?" They were his nephew and niece, and that nickname for her was his, not mine. It came from the fact that even though she was all normal up top, she had about the biggest butt you'd ever see on a person.

"I did say that, Rabbit, but I wouldn't have nobody I know work for dat nasty ol man. Anyhow, most folks pay ten cents apiece, not five. I just don't cotton to dat man. He's what folks call white trash. Next time you see his wife, take a look at her face. She'll powder it up some, but you'll still see the bruises where he be hittin on her. Plus, even though it was before I was born, his granddaddy or someone in his line, used to own my momma."

I tried to absorb what he just said. "Virge, do you mean he used to owe your momma, like money or something?"

"Naw Rabbit, I mean one of his kinfolk used to own my momma. It be like your grandpa ownin dem two mules, or you ownin dat ol dog Skippy. My momma was a slave."

"Virge - I'm just eight going on nine, but I know you can't own somebody!"

"Well Rabbit - you is right, but long time ago, you could. Right here where we standin, used to be all sorts of 'owned' people, working this here farm. They used to grow cotton and de owner used to have slaves to do all de work. Ol man Caruth's family used to own his bottom land and the land across the highway from this place. Look across that pasture. All them terraces used to be part of a cotton field. Them ol rock piles are where they picked em outa the field and throwed em outa the way."

For a eight year old kid, this was a lot for me to process. Looking at Virge, perhaps in a different way, I said, "I want one of them watermelons."

"O.K. Rabbit, when we get done here, we'll walk on down and get us a melon. We can put it in the spring house and let it get nice and cool. Come this evenin, it'll be good to eat."

"Virge - I don't want to buy one. I want to steal one."

"Hey, Rabbit, if you ain't got the money, I'll give you the quarter."

"It ain't the money. I got a quarter. It just seems we ought to steal it."

Virge looked at me with a puzzled look. He eventually countered, "You been to church with me and Sugar Butts, and you know the bible say, 'Thou Shalt Not Steal'. You remember dat?"

"Yea - I reckon I do, but don't it say something about Thou Shalt Not Own Somebody."

Virge chuckled as he said, "Naw, it don't say nothin about that. In fact, them Jews got traded back and forth to all sorts of people and they was slaves themselves."

"I still say we ought to steal a watermelon."

"Rabbit - I jes don't think that's a good idea."

"Virge - if we wait until 7:30 tonight, it ought to be dark enough so nobody sees us. What do you think?"

"Yea - that oughta be about right."

At 7:15 I told my grandma that I was going to walk down to the lake and catch a big ol bass. I just hoped she didn't want to go. I met Virge and off we went to old man Caruth's watermelon patch. We got there and waited for a few minutes. We were about 300 yards away. The porch light was off and there was nobody on the back porch, so we snuck over the barbed wire fence and out into the watermelons. Virge found us a good one, and cut it off the vine with his Barlow knife.

If there ever was a dumb old damn dog, it was old man Caruth's coon dog. It began barking those crazy howls, ooooow, ooooow, oowooow. That back door slammed open with a bang, and there was old man Caruth in his long johns with a gun in his hand. He started yelling, "I know you boys. You best put that watermelon down and get on out of here."

We got on out of there all right, but running, Virge with the watermelon under his arm. First the flash of a double barrel shotgun, and then, KABOOM, KABOOM. Had we had any logic about us, we wouldn't have worried. At that distance and light condition, he couldn't possibly recognize us, much less hit us. There weren't no logic though, just pure wet your pant scared.

I was running as fast as I could and then in a panic, I remembered Virge. I stopped, turned around and looked for him. Oh no, I thought, what happened to him? Then I glanced to my left, and there he was, about ten yards ahead of me. I reckon he must have jumped the fence.

We ran for a few more minutes, and then stopped. It's hard to get your breath when you been running, and even harder when you start laughing like a couple of schoolgirls. We caught our breath and walked on up to Virge's cabin. Joe Leslie and Sugar Butts were there, so we cut that watermelon right up and ate it. It had to have been the best watermelon of all time. And why not? You know what they say about forbidden fruit?

The next afternoon, my grandma told me that she saw old man Caruth at the Farmer's market that morning. "Rabbit, Mr. Caruth told me that two nigra boys stole some watermelons out of his patch last night. He said he took a shot at the two while they were running away. According to him, one was pretty tall and lanky and one real short, almost like a midget. You haven't heard anybody talking about it have you?"

I stopped whittling away at a stick and paused a bit like I was thinking on it. "No Ma'am. I ain't seen anybody this morning but Virge and Carrie and they didn't mention it. According to Mr. Caruth, it couldn't be any of us. Carrie can't run, Virge ain't no boy and I ain't black."

With the slightest of smiles, she said, "No, I reckon not."

I was glad it ended there. I don't like telling lies and when I try, my grandma is real good catching me in one. That's why I like to just tell pieces of the truth. Lucky for me, she just asked if I heard anyone talking about it. "Nope."

Saturday mornings were always special. My grandma and grandpa  would go to town where they would take chicken, eggs, or sometimes milk to the farmers market. Sometimes I would tag along, but they preferred me going to the movies.  Since they didn't like me going by myself, they would pick up my cousin Wesley to go as well.  Wesley was ten years old. I should be kind since he's my cousin, but there's no way around it. Wesley was weird. He was short, fat and had a crew-cut. Not just any kind of crew-cut, but one where his hair, right in front, was combed up and set with Brylcreem. If a little dab would do it, he used a bucketful. His two front teeth were large and slightly gapped. Like my friend Virge, I liked nicknames. I called him Beaver, until his mom told my grandma. She told me to quit.

She must not have talked to Virge. Since he called his niece Sugar Butts, he shortened the nickname for Wesley to plain old Sugar.

All Wesley wanted to do and talk about was ride horses. One look at him and you would know he must be riding rather than walking.

I once asked my grandma why I couldn't go to the movies with Virge. She quit rocking and looked at me before replying, "Well, Rabbit, the theater doesn't allow nigras to sit down where you sit. They have to sit upstairs in the balcony."

"Well, that ain't no problem. I'll just sit up there with Virge."

"Honey, I don't think that would work out. Plus, your cousin Wesley really enjoys going with you." I just rolled my eyes. I did give it my best shot.

Wesley and I had our routine down pat. Grandma and Grandpa would drop us downtown and give me two dollars. Wesley always had money of his own. In fact, he would have so much change in his pockets that he would jingle as he walked. It was embarrassing. We'd head over to Charlie Josesph's for lunch. You could get a hot dog and bag of chips for fifty cents. For a dime you could get a cola. Wesley always got the cola. I'd get ice water, because I'd want that dime in the theater.

After lunch, we'd waltz around the block to the theater. It cost fifty cents to get in. Once there, a large popcorn and a cola would set you back seventy five cents. If I felt like it, I'd lay into a bag of Raisinettes or a Baby Ruth.

The format was pretty much the same. Usually there was an ongoing serial. At the time, we were into Flash Gordon. That would be followed by a cartoon, a news reel and then the movie, which was generally a cheesy  scary show or a Western. This particular Saturday was different. The movie was great . It was called 'High Noon'. It was about a sheriff who met a lady who didn't want him shooting up people any more. He was supposed to be on his last day on the job. Anyhow, this guy he sent to prison comes back to town and poor Sheriff Kane couldn't get anyone to help him. It looked like it would end with a gunfight between him and the outlaw Frank Miller.

Halfway in the movie, Wesley leaned over and whispered, "We could be home riding horses. This movie is dumb."

I just elbowed him and growled, "Shut Up." I was at the edge of my chair for the entire movie.

I go into this detail for a reason. As I sat there, I kept thinking, my grandpa has a gun that looks like Sheriff Kane's.

Later that afternoon at the farm, my grandparents said that they were going to walk down to the pond and try a little fishing and did I want to go. I said, "No, I'm really tired. I'll just stay home and watch television." They should have been suspicious. I'm never too tired to go fishing.

They weren't out the door and I started looking for that gun. The first place I looked was Grandpa's underwear drawer. What I found, though not what I was looking for, was quite interesting. It was a large, 80 count box of condoms. My older brother had told me all about 'rubbers', but the picture I had in my head wasn't even close. Somehow, I pictured inner-tube black rubber that had to be strapped on. The inside box cover included instructions that showed me I was wrong. All of them in the box were wrapped in their own little red packages. Hmmm, Trojans. I put one in my pocket for later study. Now I had another mystery to solve; who the heck did they belong to?

With the second drawer, I hit pay-dirt. Under some pajamas was a .38 police special, the gun I was looking for. I once saw my grandpa use the gun to shoot a snake in the chicken house. This was not a modern looking gun. It was a big old, bulky revolver and looked much like Sheriff Kane's.

I figured my grandparents were now down by the pond, about a quarter of a mile from the home place. It seemed safe enough to pull the gun out, stick it through my belt and practice fast draw in front of the wall mirror. I thought I was getting pretty good, pulling the gun from my belt, doing a quarter turn and pretending to shoot old Frank Miller. All of a sudden, the gun went off with a loud bang. It punched a hole through the mirror, not through old Frank, but right about at what would have been my belly button.

Tossing the gun back in the drawer, I ran for all I was worth. I circled back around behind the pond and up to my grandparents who were coming up the hill. Almost out of breath, I bleated, "Did ya'll hear that? It sounded like a gun shot."

All the way back to the house, I was trying to think of a story. I'm pretty good at that sort of thing.  Unfortunately, I came up with nothing. My grandfather asked a question with little wiggle room. "Rabbit did you take my gun out of the drawer and shoot it?"

"Yes, Sir, I did. Sheriff Kane had a gun like it in the movie this morning. I just wanted to see a real one."

"Well, Rabbit, there won't be a movie in your plans for awhile now. I'm going to have to figure out some extra chores so you can pay for a new mirror."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy almost nine Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin

Chapter 4
To Laugh or Cry

By bhogg

The summer was passing fast. June was almost over. Things were going great. I was having lots of fun. Virge and I started a neat tree house on a big oak tree in the back yard. We were fishing a lot and actually putting fish filets in my grandmother's freezer. Life was grand. I should have known things were going too good.

I was resting on the front porch when my grandmother, Nan, drove up in her 1949 Plymouth. She was my grandmother from my mom's side. Out of the back seat, popped my older brother, John, with a small suitcase.  I found out that my grandparents were headed south to Florida to take care of my sick aunt's family.  John was going to be staying with us for two weeks.

When Grandma Nan got ready to leave, she came over and gave me a big hug. "Rabbit, I'm sure you've been lonely all by yourself. Won't it be nice to have your brother around to play with? Plus, you've got a birthday coming in a few days and I know that you'll want John around for that."

Well, I hugged her back and smiled. I had to just bite my tongue. Had you asked me, "Would you rather be hit in the head with a stick, or would you rather have your brother John stay with you?" I know for sure that I'd simply ask, "Now how big is that stick?"

I decided that the best thing to do was just steer clear of my brother. Lucky for me, he actually got along with my cousin Wesley. They got together a lot and rode horses. That suited me just fine. I could just continue doing what I wanted.

The next morning, I hollered out to my grandma, "I got the eggs in and pulled bugs off the tomatoes. Is there anything else you want me to do?" The 'no' response was welcome. That meant I could visit with Virge.

I walked up to his cabin, which was just a short way from their house. The cabin was of rough hewn pine, and had never seen an ounce of paint. It was weathered gray, with a sweeping wrap around porch. Inside the four room cabin were two bedrooms, a kitchen with sitting area and a living room. It had wide-planked floors throughout. The cabin was surrounded by large pecan trees, so was always shady in the summer. Virge lived there full time, and his niece, Ms. Carrie, was often visiting.

As I came to the cabin, I noticed that Virge was placing brush in a pile up front. "Hey, Virge, whatcha' doin?"

"Hey yourself, Rabbit. I'm just cleaning up a bit. I'm goin to move these old sticks and sweep up all dem leaves. You come to help ol Virge?"

"Sure - I'll help." Virge and I had a great work relationship. We helped each other do work or chores, or the two of us would go fishing, or swimming in the creek. Sometimes we would just sit on his front porch and talk.

I picked up a branch and started moving it to the burn pile, when all of a sudden, all hell broke loose. In the process of moving that branch, I had upset a large yellow jacket nest. They swarmed all around me. About five had already stung me on my arm. I near scared Virge to death, because I was doing a little dance and yelling, "Damn, damn, damn!" Virge came running over. He was swatting at me with a towel he had pulled off a line. Lifting me at the waist, he scooted me out of the area. Setting me down, he was still beating the yellow jackets away with his towel.

"Are you alright?" Virge had also been stung in the process of getting me away from the swarm, but still was preoccupied on checking on me.

"Yeah, I reckon, but my arm really hurts."

"Let me look at it." Virge pulled the sleeve back. The long sleeve cotton shirt that I was wearing didn't prevent the stings, but kept them manageable. "Rabbit, dem jackets popped you pretty good. You got five or six whelps on your arm. I know it hurts, cuz I got me some too. Your brother John would probably be crying and hollering. How come you ain't?"

"They stung you too, and you ain't crying. Plus, when I was a little boy, I decided that it didn't make much sense to cry about things that hurt you on the outside. It just don't do no good."

Virge looked at me a little puzzled and asked, "You mean you don't never cry?"

"No, I mean that I just don't cry about things that hurt me on the outside. Those jackets stung me, but crying won't make the hurt go away. Do you remember when you helped me bury my dog Skippy last week?"

Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, I do. That was a sad thing. Skippy was a good old dog."

"Well, I cried when that happened, because it hurt me on the inside. Come to think of it, you cried too, so burying Skippy must have hurt you on the inside too?"

"Naw, Rabbit, I wasn't crying. When I was shoveling that hole, some of dat ol red dirt blowed in my eyes... I do know some things that will make your arm feel better though. The first thing is we got to put on some chewing tobacco." Virge put a wad of tobacco in a tin can and poured some well water on it. He then mashed it all up with the handle end of a hammer. He was talking to me all the time, how this is what his daddy did for him. When he had mashed it up real good, he spread it over my arm and wrapped a rag around it. Maybe it was the constant banter, or it could be a miracle cure; all I know is that the pain went away.

After awhile, Virge spoke up, "The other thing that'll help that pain is we get back at those jackets."

"How we gonna do that?"

With a smile, Virge responded, "We find the holes in the ground, and we cover up the escape hole with one of dem barrel tops. Then we pour us some gasoline down the other hole. We cover that hole up with the other barrel top. The jackets breathe all dat stuff and they die. Old Virge has done this a million times. It always works."

Virge was pretty good on stuff like that, so it sounded like a plan. We went to my grandfather's barn and got the gas can. After locating the escape hole, Virge put the barrel top over it and told me to stand on it. He then went over to the other hole, quickly poured gas down it and covered it with the other barrel top and stood on it.

The plan was well under way when my brother John walked over. I love my brother to death now. In those days, I didn't love him too much. In fact, he was a bully and a royal pain in the ass. He approached, took a look and asked, "What ya'll doing?"

Virge brought him up to speed and explained our plan. John listened, and looking at Virge, exclaimed, "That ain't how you kill yellow jackets. We need to dump the rest of the gas can in that hole. Then we need to dump a can of kerosene over there where Rabbit is standing. The two will create a chemical reaction and kill all the yellow jackets."

Virgil rolled his eyes, and looked at John with irritation. "Mr. John, I don't know about no chemical reaction, but I'm near 90 years old and done killed lots of yellow jackets. I'm telling ya, we don't have to do more'n we've already done."

John, never short on cocky, started pouring the rest of the gas down the hole. He then walked over to the barn and got the kerosene, which he proceeded to pour down the hole I had been standing on. It should have been a hint. Already, it was obvious that the yellow jackets were most likely defeated, because there wasn't much activity out of either hole. He then covered the hole back up and told me to stand on the barrel top. He walked over to the hole near Virge, took a match out of his pocket, lit it and threw it in the hole. He then put the barrel top back on the hole and stood on it. Yelling at me, "Rabbit, take your barrel top off the hole."

I did, and nothing happened right away. All of a sudden, the ground swelled up a little and there was a sound, like, WHUMP. There was an explosion and my brother, standing on the barrel top, was actually lifted off the ground about an inch. That explosion sort of telegraphed right through that barrel top and through his bare feet. He jumped off the top and started yelling, "Ow, Ow, Ow", lifting one foot and then the other, hopping around like crazy. He looked like a herky-jerky dancer. Once we decided he wasn't seriously hurt, Virge and I started laughing. With Virge, it was so bad he actually lay on the ground and rolled. John ran away. I knew for certain that I had a beating coming. I didn't care; it was worth it.

With tears in my eyes, I looked over at Virge and said, "Hey Virge, I cry when I laugh hard too."

Catching his breath, Virge snickered, "Yeah, Rabbit, me too!"

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy almost nine Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horris (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 5
In Your Sights

By bhogg

I should have been up, but found myself lying in bed, looking at the way the sun came through the window. Grandma's house was old, so dust was always in the air. The light coming through the window struck the dust and created an illusion of structure. It was a great day to just lie there. It was also my birthday. Yesterday, I was eight. Today, I was nine.

My grandmother yelled up the stairs, "Rabbit, are you up?"

"Yes Ma'am," I replied. It wasn't really a lie. I was awake, so technically, I was up.

"Well, hurry on downstairs. I want you to see your Grandpa before he goes off to the station."

I picked up my clothes from the floor and put them back on. I'd only worn them for two days, so figured they would be fine. I traipsed down the narrow stairs and straight for the bathroom. My grandparents would be in the kitchen drinking coffee, but there was some immediate business for me to take care of.

Leaving the bathroom, I went to the kitchen. It was the hub of the house. Of course, food was cooked there, but unless company came, we ate there. After dinner my grandma and grandpa would sit there and talk or play gin rummy or cribbage. I walked in and plopped into my usual chair. They had already eaten, but set a small plate for me with two sausage biscuits and a glass of milk.

Nobody was saying much until my grandpa reached behind his chair and handed me a long package. I had no idea what it was. It was about three and a half feet long and wrapped with butcher paper and string. My grandpa simply said, "Open it."

With no finesse and little care, I ripped the paper off. Inside was a Daisy No. 25 pump-action BB gun. This was the gun that every little kid wanted. It had a magazine that held fifty BBs, a wooden stock and grip, a front site and adjustable back site. I just held it in my hands and looked at it.

Clearing his throat, my grandpa said, "Happy birthday, Rabbit. I heard you talking to your cousin Wesley about a BB gun, so I called your dad and mom to see if it was okay to get you one. What do you think?"

Grandpa wasn't much of a hugging guy, but I got up and hugged him anyhow. "Thank you, Grandpa. This is great. Shoot, Wesley only has a Red Rider BB gun. It ain't nearly as good as this one."

"Well, I'm glad you like it. Your dad only asked that you let Virge teach you how to shoot it. You probably don't know this, but Virge is the one who taught your daddy. All he's got to shoot now is his old .22 bolt-action rifle, but he's about the best shot around. He'll teach you good."

My chores for the morning were to gather eggs, pick beans and cucumbers that were ready and pull bugs off the tomato plants. I finished in record time and headed up to Virge's with my new BB gun and a tube of 250 BBs.

Grandpa must have told Virge I was coming because he was ready for me. He had stacked three hay bales on top of one another and on the top bale, he attached a white cardboard target. With red paint, four concentric circles were drawn from large to small. The largest circle was about eighteen inches. The smallest, central circle was about the size of a silver dollar.

As he saw me approach, he smiled and said, "Hey, Rabbit. I heard you got yourself a new gun." I showed it to him with pride.

"Hoo-wee, this is a good one. Are you ready for me to teach you how to use it?"

"I'm ready, but I already read the instructions. It's got fifty BBs in it and I'm ready to go."

"I'm sure you are, but I promised your grandpa that I would teach you right. The first thing you need to know is that this is called a BB gun. It ain't called no BB toy. You've already done one foolish thing."

"What, what did I do?"

"Well, the first time you showed me the gun, you pointed the business end at me. That's something you don't ever do with a gun. That there gun could easily put an eye out. I only got two eyes, and one of them ain't doing too good. You could have put old Virge in a world of hurt."

"I'm sorry. I didn't even know I did it. Maybe I was just excited and ready to go."

"Alright then. That's a good first lesson. Don't be in a big hurry around guns. Now bring it over and let's take a look.

Virge took the gun and showed me how to cock it to engage the first BB. Any time he showed me something, there was always a lesson. "You got to be real careful to point the gun toward the ground when you pump it. You also got to watch out for your fingers. If you ain't careful that slide will pop back and pinch you bad."

Virge had placed two additional hay bales about thirty feet from the target. This was to be our platform for shooting. "Okay, Rabbit, since you is right handed, put that hand around the grip here. Put your left hand up on the wooden handle. Rest your arm and gun on the hay bale. Now, tilt your head to look down the rear sight and close your eye which is furthest away from the rifle, and leave the other eye open. Now center the sight at the front with the notch in back toward that target. When you feel comfortable, take a shot."

It sounded easy enough. I did what he said and took my shot. Virge's response told the story. "Hey, you done pretty good; you hit the hay bales. Let me show you one time and then you try again."

Virge lined up and did exactly what he asked me to do, and took his shot. The difference was that there was a BB hole right in the center of the innermost circle.

"How did you get to be so good?"

Chuckling, Virge said, "When I was a little boy, we couldn't afford many bullets. Every time I shot, my daddy expected me to bring home a squirrel or a rabbit to eat. When you either hit what you're shooting at or go hungry, you get pretty good."

Virge worked with me for about thirty minutes. One of his key points was how to squeeze the trigger rather than jerk it. At the end of that time, I was hitting the target every time and mostly in the inner circles. "You're doing really good. Keep practicing and you'll be a good shot like your daddy. You best be heading home for lunch. Maybe tomorrow, we'll line us up some cans to shoot."

The next morning after chores, I got my gun and rushed back to Virge's cabin. A splash of color caught my sight. A red cardinal landed in a China Berry tree right in front of me. Stopping and breathing slow, I cocked my gun. Lining up like I was shown and slowly pulling the trigger, I fired. Almost instantly, you could hear the impact. The BB striking the bird was accompanied by a small puff of red feathers. Running over and picking up the dead bird, I continued to Virge's.

When I arrived, Virge was sweeping off his front porch. He cheerfully greeted me, "What you in such a big hurry for?"

I opened my hand to show him the bird. "I saw this bird in the tree and I did everything like you taught me. It wasn't a big target, but I got him."

As I looked to Virge, I could see he was not sharing in my excitement. Putting down his broom, he said, "Come on over and sit next to me on the porch."

I did. Virge was silent for a moment before he said, "Put down your gun for a minute." After I did, he said, "Now, put both of your hands around that bird and close your eyes."

I thought this strange, but did what he asked. "Is the bird still warm?"

"Yes."

"With your eyes closed, can you see that bird sitting up in that tree?"

"Yes, I can."

"What was the bird doing?"

"Not much, just flying and maybe chirping a little."

"Well, Rabbit, that bird is called a Cardinal. When they is red like that, they are the daddy bird. So that bird probably had a wife bird and this time of year, probably some baby birds. Just know, that bird ain't never going to fly again, ain't never going to chirp again and ain't never going to see his wife or babies again. You can open your eyes now and see that bird for what he is, dead."

I opened my eyes and opened my hands. My tears ran on to the dead bird. "I never thought about any of that. I was proud of my good shot and now I don't feel too good."

Taking the bird from me, Virge said, "See, it's only your second day with a gun and you done learned another valuable lesson."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy almost nine Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 6
Thinking of You

By bhogg

It was good to be out of grandpa's doghouse after three weeks. When I took his gun out of the sock drawer and blew a hole through the mirror, my Saturday movie matinees came to a temporary halt. He gave me extra chores to do around the house to pay for the mirror. Apparently, last night, Wednesday, I wiped the slate clean.

I missed going to the movies, and now I had an extra reason for wanting to go back. Before, my grandparents would drop my cousin Wesley and me off to go. I know I've mentioned before that Wesley was a pain in the butt. He was at Boy Scout camp for two weeks, so I would be able to go with a real cousin. Her name was Carol.

When I say real, I don't mean to say that Wesley wasn't real. I don't understand cousin stuff too well, but Grandma once told me that Wesley was my second cousin, something, something, removed. My friend, Virge, claimed that most likely, what was removed was brains and good looks.

My cousin Carol had brains and good looks. She lived in Florida, but since her mom was sick, she was staying with her aunt, practically right next door to me. Carol's dad was my mom's older brother. We sat together at church the previous Sunday, and the strangest thing happened. Everyone thought we were twins. She's about two months older than me, so the ages were the same. More than that though, we just looked alike. Both of us had blond hair, green eyes and little freckles that flowed across our noses. Each of us have an identical red birthmark in our hairline. I overheard Ms. Mabel say that she thought we both had the same precocious manner. I don't know  what that means. I guess she thought we were alike.

Anyhow, the next Saturday, I was going to the movies with Carol and not stuffy old Wesley.

The Saturday routine seemed the same. Grandpa dropped us off at Charlie Joseph's for lunch. We both had the usual, a chili-dog and a bag of chips. She had a cola, but I like to save that dime for later.

After lunch, we strolled over to the theater. Carol took one look at the marquee and quickly said, "I've seen the movie. It really stinks. Can't we go somewhere else?"

This stumped me. I never thought about not going to the movies. After just a couple of seconds, I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "Okay. I'm not sure what we'll do. We still need to meet my grandparents at 3:00 PM over at the farmer's supply store."

Carol swept the hair from her face with her hand and smiled. "I bet we can find something to do."

Scrunching my brow, I suddenly brightened. "I know what we can start with. There's something here in town that I bet you haven't seen."

Carol asked, "What is it?"

"Just come on and I'll show you." Walking up a block and crossing the street, we arrived at Kress's five and dime. Stepping through the front door, I looked at her and swept my hand. "There it is."

"Where," she asked.

"Right there in front of you, the moving stairs."

"Unh, they call those things escalators. I live in Jacksonville. We've got plenty of them."

Well, perhaps they are a big thing in Florida, but here in LaGrange, Georgia, they were unique. It was the only one I'd ever seen. I think Carol could sense my disappointment, because all of a sudden, she said, "Let's ride it. I didn't say they weren't fun."

So we did. We did everything you're supposed to do on an escalator and a couple of things not. The people in the store didn't seem to mind us walking up the down stairs. I'm pretty sure they've seen that before. They drew the line when I slid down the center strip between the up and down. I didn't know that was frowned upon. The lady in cosmetics asked, "Where're your parents?" We gave the 'I dunno' shrug of shoulders and left.

Once outside, Carol said, "I know what we can do now."

"What's that?"

"We can walk over to the Sheriff's office. My uncle is the Sheriff."

The County building was across from the town square. I always thought it was a neat building. There was an old, rusty cannon out front and the facade was covered in marble. The corner where you entered the Sheriff's office was in the shade. Sitting on the marble steps in the summer was about as cool a place as you could find. Standing outside the doorway was a tall woman, dressed in uniform. When we got close, she put out her cigarette and said, "Well if it isn't little Miss Carol. I didn't know you had a brother."

"He ain't my brother. He's my cousin Bill. He's staying with his grandma Louise this summer."

"Oh, I know you. You're the one they call Rabbit. Ya'll two look just alike. Sweetie, your uncle's not here, but come on in and let me show you off."

We went in, and there was another woman at the desk and a male deputy walking around. They ooh'd and aah'd over the two of us. It was embarrassing. Finally, they took our fingerprints and took a picture of us. Where they took the picture was the same place where they took pictures of people going to jail. In the background, the wall was marked in feet and inches, so you would know how tall the person was. We both came in a little over four feet. I bet they don't get many criminals that size.

I came to find out that they developed that picture and it's hanging on the wall at the Sheriff's office. Carol had put up her two fingers, 'v' shaped behind my head. It made me look like a devil or something.

After that visit, we walked over to the Army store. It's one of my favorite places. There are all sorts of military stuff. We tried on army field jackets and helmets, both too big. I had to laugh at Carol. The helmet kept slipping down the front of her face. Finally, a big, porky guy walked over and asked, "Are you going to buy anything?" That deserved another 'I dunno' shoulder shrug. We left.

"I guess we should head over to the farmer's supply store. We need to meet my grandparents in about thirty minutes."

It's a fun place to hang out for awhile. They know me there, so gave us a cola and let us walk around. There are always baby chicks and rabbits and stuff to play with. My grandparents got there soon after we arrived.

When we got in the car, Grandma asked, "Did you have fun?"

We replied in unison, "Yes Ma'am." I was glad she didn't ask if we liked the movie.

Carol was going to stay for supper, so we headed back to Grandma's house. When we got there, the two of us went upstairs to a room my grandmother called the conservatory. The room jutted out over the front porch. It was a neat room that had tall windows around three sides. The windows were open, so the room was bright and breezy. We were sitting together on an old coaster bench. The chain links made a noise like, eeenh, eeenh, eeenh, eeenh. I swear, that noise and motion could almost put you to sleep.

Carol finally said, "I had a really good time. It was a fun day."

Smiling, I replied, "We did have us a good old time. I bet we're the only people around here who've been fingerprinted and had our picture taken at the jail."

"I reckon that we probably are." We just rocked for awhile before Carol spoke again. "Have you ever seen a girl's private parts?"

The question took me by surprise. I answered the truth, "No."

"Well, all I've got are sisters, so I've never seen a boy's. Maybe we should take a peek at each other."

All of a sudden, the breeze died. I felt like everything slowed down. Almost stuttering, I said, "Okay."
We both slowly reached for the top buttons of our pants. The magic moment was interrupted by my grandma as she hollered up the stairs, "Are ya'll up there?"

In unison, we replied, "Yes Ma'am."

She continued, "What are you doing?"

Once again, in unison, we replied, "Nothin'."

"Well, come on back downstairs and do nothing."

I saw my friend Virge the next morning. He asked, "Did you and Wesley go to the movies yesterday?"

"No, Wesley is at scout camp. I went with my cousin, Carol. We didn't go to the movies, we just walked around and stuff."

"Oh yeah, I remember Carol. Ain't she your Uncle Chuck's girl? If I recall, she is real cute."

"Yeah, she's Uncle Chuck's girl and she is cute. I think when I grow up, I'm going to marry Carol."

Virge chuckled before replying, "You can't marry Carol, cause she's your first cousin."

"Yeah, so what."

"Well, Rabbit, it's against the law to marry your first cousin."

I had to process this bit of news for awhile. Finally, I said, "Last month, you told me that it used to be legal to own people, that your own momma was a slave. It don't make any sense to be allowed to own somebody and not be able to marry your cousin."

Virge shook his head and spat out a stream of tobacco. "Slavery has been against the law for near a hundred years. Laws are laws. There ain't no law that says they gotta make sense."

I thought it through for a minute and just shrugged my shoulders. "It still don't seem right." What I was thinking though was more profound to me at the moment, Shoot, I guess I'll never get to see Carol naked.

Author Notes

Thanks to pattigirl for the beautiful picture. It does remind me of my cousin. List of characters: Rabbit - young boy almost nine Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 7
To Kill a Fly

By bhogg

My Grandma Louise and Grandpa Horace were going to spend the weekend in Atlanta. Grandpa had to attend a pre-retirement meeting with the rail company. I suppose I should have been happy for them to get away, but I wasn't. It meant spending the weekend with my other grandparents.

Don't get me wrong, my other grandparents, Nan and Pappy, were great. They only lived three miles from where I stayed. Their property was in the country and had many of the things that provide adventure for a young boy. There was a farm, all sorts of animals, a great barn and a wonderful creek to swim in. One small problem; their place was where my older brother John was spending the summer.

I was dropped off at my grandma's. She gave me a big hug and ushered me into the kitchen. Sitting down at the table and sipping on iced tea, we talked a bit. Her first question, probably a good one, "Why don't you and John get along better?"

I chewed on my fingernail before replying, "Grandma, have you ever seen Flash Gordon at the movies?"

With a puzzled look, she replied, "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I figure that wherever John is staying is the planet Mongo. If I'm there, sooner or later I'll have to fight my arch-enemy, and it ain't Ming the Merciless. It's John."

With a smile, she said, "Well, we're just going to keep the two of you apart. You can sleep downstairs in the bedroom next to mine. John is sleeping upstairs."

I believe that my grandparents were the last people on earth who didn't have a television set. I didn't mind one bit. After dinner, we would all gravitate toward the living room. The walls were made up of bookshelves. Since this was Saturday night we would listen to a radio show called Midwestern Hayride. My grandpa, (Pappy), had a radio that was about as big as the television set we had at home. He would turn it up loud for the country music and some of the corniest jokes you'll ever hear. If we behaved, we could stay up and listen to either Gunsmoke or Ranger Bill.

I especially liked Gunsmoke. Lying down with my eyes closed, I could see everything. You could hear the horses clip-clopping, the glasses clinking in Ms. Kitty's bar and the sounds of gunfights. Marshal Dillon was talking to Chester that night and said, "I didn't want to shoot him, but dag burn it, he deserved it." In the semi-darkness, I glared at my brother.

The next morning started out okay, but John and I managed to start arguing before breakfast was over.

Exasperated, my grandmother finally said, "You two are just going to have to quit arguing. I can see why your momma wanted you two separated. I've got a job for you after breakfast that I hope will keep you occupied."

John has always been shifty-eyed. This morning was no different. With a glint, he asked, "What kind of job?"

"Well, you just finish your breakfast and I'll show you."

After breakfast, Grandma led us  to the patio. When we got out, she gave us each a fly-swatter. She explained the job.

"I've got some ladies coming over today after lunch and we'll all want to sit outside and enjoy the shade of the patio. I want you two to kill flies. Each one of you keep your own stack of dead flies. Later on, I'll give you a penny for each fly you kill."

Old shifty-eyed, John asked, "It don't seem like it would do much good to kill one fly. How come you want us to do it?"

"Well, Mr. Smarty, I'll tell you. More than half of the flies are females, and each female can lay 1,000 eggs during her lifetime. More than half of those eggs can become more female flies which in turn will lay 1,000 more eggs. If the fly you kill is a male fly, he can never fertilize any more eggs. Even you should understand that killing that one fly can eliminate millions."

"Okay, if each one can keep millions from being born, it should be worth more than a penny."

"Don't you worry about the math, John. You sit over there, and Rabbit, you sit over there. I'll bring you some ice-water in about an hour to see how you're doing."

I didn't care what John thought. To me, a penny per fly seemed a good deal. It's easy for me to focus on things, especially when there's money to be earned. I was getting into it. Looking at my stack of flies, I counted twenty-five. It was impossible to tell how many John had, but it didn't look like many.

Despite my concentration, it became obvious that the glass of milk and glass of juice I had for breakfast needed to be relieved. I looked at John before saying, "I've got to go in to the bathroom. Don't mess with my flies."

After a few minutes I came back out. A quick glance at my fly pile revealed a crime. With fury, I turned to John and said, "Okay, butt-face, you took some of my flies."

"No I didn't. You must not have killed them good. They just revived themselves and flew off."

With that lame explanation, I swatted the biggest fly on the patio, John. The fight began.

The shouting brought Grandma Nan out to the patio.

"My God, I can't leave you two together for one hour and already you're fighting. What in the world happened?"

"When I went in to go to the bathroom, John stole some of my flies."

With a stern look, Grandma asked, "Is that right, John?"

"No Ma'am. I figure that he just didn't kill them enough and they flew away."

"That doesn't seem likely, but I don't have time to referee. I'm going to just give each one of you a quarter. John, you go down to the old house and help Pappy clean it up. Rabbit, you go to the garden and pull worms off the tomatoes and beans. Put the worms in a can so you can feed them to the chickens."

We both went our own ways. It was better to be up in the garden by myself than around John. The truth be known, I loved working in the garden. When with my other grandparents, there were daily chores for me in the garden. Saving the worms for the chickens was a new one for me though. After pulling just a few worms off and giving them to the chickens, it was obvious that they loved them. It was also obvious why my grandma let the chickens run free range through her garden. There wasn't a single worm low to the ground.

If you looked out across the garden, you could see sun waves rise from the ground. I was about ready to take a water break when the neatest bug possible appeared on a tomato plant. It was a long bug, green in color and had two long, spiked forelegs. It was almost invisible and was faced away from me. It rotated its head backwards and was looking at me with two huge eyes. I whacked it with a stick.

Picking up my find, I rushed to find my grandmother. She was sitting on the patio, flyswatter in hand.

Yelling, I called out, "Grandma, Grandma, I killed a baby dinosaur."

"You what?"

"I killed a baby dinosaur." Holding my treasure out, I said, "Here it is."

"Oh Rabbit, that's not a baby dinosaur. That's a preying mantis. Your grandpa buys mantis egg casings every year and spreads them through the garden. They hatch and then begin to devour insects. Mantises are good things, not something to be killed."

I didn't know. I later found out that my grandparents were way ahead of their time. They were green in the days when people just thought it was just a color.

About that time, Pappy was walking up the hill with my brother, John. One look and you could tell he wasn't happy.

Grandma asked, "What's wrong?"

Shaking his head he said, "Oh nothing much. John was just playing with matches and almost burned the old house down. No real harm. I'll just leave the windows open a few days for the smell to go out."

Looking at Pappy, Grandma said, "Our daughter has raised John, Rabbit and Bob and now has one more on the way. All of this, and she still retains her sanity. We need to call the Pope. She is obviously a saint."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 8
Fighting and Family

By bhogg

When you live in the country, you don't need an alarm clock. The rooster crowed and the cows bellowed. My grandmother, Nan, was banging pots around in the kitchen. I knew I should get up, but wanted to lay there for awhile. After all, it was time for plotting. Today after breakfast, I was going to kick my brother, John's butt. Lord knows he had it coming.

Just yesterday, my grandmother had given us a job that was supposed to keep us out of her hair. All we had to do was swat flies with a fly swatter. She was going to pay us a penny apiece for them. When I got back from going to the bathroom, John had stolen flies from my pile. Of course, he gave Grandma some lame excuse, but we all knew he stole them. I had just had it, had it, had it! Given, he had pretty much beaten me every day one way or another, but today was going to be my day.

It didn't take long for the battle to begin. Right after breakfast, the two of us were standing out on the patio, the scene of yesterday's crime. John piped up, "You know, you're such a tattletale. It's like you couldn't wait to blab your mouth about me stealing your stupid flies."

"It's not being a tattletale when you tell the truth. You stole my flies."

"Yeah, so what are you going to do about it?"

"What I'm going to do is whip your butt. Let's go up behind the barn and get this over with."

John looked surprised. He finally said, "It's stupid for us to go up there and fight. You know if we do, I'll win and you'll probably go blabbing to Grandma."

"Nope, not today. Let's go."

There was a holding pen up behind the barn. It was surrounded by a wood, slatted fence, about five feet high. There hadn't been any cows in it for awhile, so was mostly dry. Georgia red clay dust was mixed with dirt and dried cow poop. John and I slipped inside and got to business. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old pen. Each footfall stirred up puffs of red dust. I felt confident. My armor was much better with long pants and hard leather brogans. John was in shorts and wearing tennis shoes. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him in the shins with my hard leather shoe. He squealed and grabbed his leg. As he did, I hit him in the side of his head. A good thing my start went so well, because it went downhill quickly.

Rushing me, John knocked me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was wierd hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."

John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the house."

John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."

Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."

"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."

Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat your butt his own self. Now, get along."

John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned and asked, "What are you doing here? You live over at my other grandma's."

Virge said, "Your Pappy come by to get me early this morning. He wanted me to fix the pump up at the barn. Maybe you're lucky I showed up."

"I didn't need your help. I was dong just fine."

Smiling, Virge said, "Rabbit, your heart was in it, but you just ain't big enough. You might be someday, but today's just not your day. Why do you always fight with Mr. John?"

"Because, I just ain't going to let him pick on me. If it means getting a beating, that's just the way it is."

"Okay, I understand. Let's just go on back to the pump house and clean you up a bit. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."

We walked to the pump house, behind the barn. He sat me down on a hay bale and went to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always cool. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"

"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."

"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"

"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"

"Now, Rabbit, you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? It's a special day with a Reverend out of Atlanta. Might do you some good."

Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home to my other grandma, I asked. "Can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"

"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"

"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."

Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."

What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill. Virge and I always picked the same kind of dog, the ones that were swollen, split and slightly blackened on the outside.

Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.

Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.

Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher was robed. Swerving, his bony finger leapt out of that robe and I could swear pointed right at my forehead. He practically screamed, "Do you want to go to heaven?"

Well, what could I do? I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.

After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask, "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"

"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"

"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."

Finished with his lunch, Virge filled his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."

"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is the most important thing in life. Your brothers and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"

"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"

With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."

We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in a few weeks."

Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."

Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"

With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge said, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 9
The Way With Chickens

By bhogg

Chickens are really dumb. My chores centered on them, so I got to see first hand. Every day, I fed them, made sure they had water and gathered eggs. Every third day, the poop and straw needed raking and placed in a special place at the end of the garden. When it rained, it was necessary to run out and chase them into the roost. The dumb things would stay out, look up at the rain with their mouths open and drown.

Stupid little boogers. I loved every minute of it.

When you live on a farm, you shouldn't name the animals. There's a good reason. It's hard to eat something that has a name. My favorite was a chicken that I named Ernest. Of course, my friend Virgil told me the name didn't make sense since Ernest was really an Ernestine. I don't know, a chicken is a chicken.

Ernest was my favorite because he was so different. The other chickens actually had an elegant, regal look about them. They'd throw their butts up in the air, hold their heads high and prance. Ernest would just pooch his head back and forth and shuffle around. For some reason, the other chickens hated him.

One day, I came out and found that the other chickens had pecked Ernest around his wing and back. His feathers had been roughed off and you could see flecks of blood on his bare skin. My grandpa had a purple medicine that he used to swab on the mules and cows, so it seemed to be that it would be perfect for chickens. Ernest always let me pick him up, so gathering him up, I applied the purple salve and sent him on his way.

The next morning, Virge and I were picking some figs for my grandma. At the end of the chicken pen was what looked like a muddy lump. Walking over to take a look, it wasn't a lump. It was Ernest. He was dead. Where the salve was applied was now bare, bloody skin. You could see the bones.

Virge knows everything about country stuff, so I asked him, "Why did the other chickens kill Ernest?"

So like Virge, he paused a moment before replying. "Rabbit, sometimes critters kill one another because they're different. It happens mostly when they's penned up. With that purple salve, old Ernest was even more different, and the others just came over and pecked him to death."

"Oh, no, you mean I was responsible."

"No, child, you wasn't responsible. It was going to happen no matter what. We should have culled Ernest out a long time ago. Animals just don't cotton to others that are different, even of their own kind. It's just the way of life."

"Well, that's just stupid. It don't make any sense at all."

"Rabbit, come on over here and sit down on the end of the wagon. Old Virge needs a chew and a rest anyhow." Sitting down, he pulled out his Barlow knife and cut off a plug of tobacco.

"Can I have a chew too?"

"No, just sit down and take a rest for a minute."

Patient as always, he finally asked, "Did you know that your daddy and my grand-nephew Joe went off to war together."

"Yeah, I reckon I knew that."

"They sure did. It's funny, because the only time in my life I left around here was in 1943. I went with your grandpa to take those two boys to Columbus, Georgia. They both joined the Army. Your daddy went to Saipan to fight the Japanese. Joe went to Germany to fight Hitler."

"Virge, I really do want to find out more about my daddy and Joe, but what does it have to do with Ernest?"

"Now, Rabbit, you know that Virge is an old man. I'll get to it if you'll give me a minute." Another pause before he replied, "You thought it was stupid when a chicken killed another chicken, just because he was different?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, it ain't really different with men. Both of the countries that your daddy and Joe fought against was killing people just because they was different. Think about it for a minute. A chicken is a dumb old thing, but something in its blood just makes it want to kill another chicken that's different. It's troublesome. Why do you suppose a man wants to kill another man, just because he's different?"

"I don't rightly know. Why?"

Spitting a stream of tobacco, Virge said, "I reckon it's in a man's blood too."

Author Notes

Shorter than normal, but the ending seemed right. List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 10
Laughter Among Friends

By bhogg

When I went to bed last night, I had two brothers. This morning, when I woke up, my grandma said, "Congratulations! You now have a sister to go with those two nasty brothers." How about that? I wonder if it will be any different having a girl in the house. I didn't have to wait long to find out.

My day was pretty normal. I did my morning chores and then went with my friend Virge to hunt for arrowheads. It's a good day when you find one arrowhead. We found two.

Lunch was even special. Grandma put out some cold fried chicken and left-over potato salad. There were fresh sliced tomatoes on the side. Looking me in the eye, she said, "Grandpa and I are driving over to Alabama tomorrow. Your dad will need some help, and then when your mom comes home with your sister, she will need some help. It's too early for you to visit them, so we're going to leave you here."

I'm pretty sure she could see the disappointment in my face. "Now, Rabbit, I know you're anxious to see your new sister, but it isn't a good time."

Actually, she read the disappointment right, but it wasn't about my sister. I figured for sure that I would have to go over and stay with my other grandma, which meant, time with my brother John.

I breathed a sigh of relief when she said, "This time, we're going to let you stay here. Miss Erin, from our church, will be staying with you.  Two summers ago, she was playing piano for us. Lately, she's been off in college. In a few weeks, she is going to Macon to teach school. Do you remember her?"

"I think so. Does she have red hair, freckles across her nose and wears braces and glasses?"

"Well, I think you've got the right girl, but she doesn't wear braces anymore. Do you think you'll be alright with her?"

"Sure. I'll still be able to visit with Virge won't I?"

"Of course you will, honey. Erin will be coming by tonight, so let's go straighten up the guest bedroom."

Erin came by after dinner and we got re-introduced. I was a little tongue tied, because she was beautiful. Those freckles seemed to smooth out a little and her hair wasn't put up like it used to be. It flowed free. It was a beautiful red and curly. No braces and no glasses either. I stammered, "It's nice to meet you again, Miss Erin."

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Rabbit. Don't you think we ought to just call each other Erin and Rabbit?"

It did make sense. Mr. Rabbit sounded pretty stupid.

She went on, "This is going to be a grand adventure for us both. I grew up with two sisters, so never had a brother. You've never had a sister, so now we can learn together."

When she smiled at me, I knew everything was going to be okay.

The next morning, my grandparents loaded up their Plymouth station wagon and headed to Alabama. Erin and I stood together on the front porch and waved goodbye. She looked down at me and said, "Your grandma told me that you have chores every morning. Would you like for me to help you?"

"You could, but they're  not hard. It's just taking care of the chickens and seeing if any beans or tomatoes need picking. Plus, I don't see you helping me dressed like you are."

She paused for a moment and then laughed. "I guess you think I'm a silly city girl. I don't suppose that a sundress and sandals are the best thing for farm wear. I do have some jeans and tee shirts. I'll change."

As I was brushing my teeth, I heard Erin cry out, "Ouch, ouch!"

Running in to her room, I practically shouted, "What's wrong?"

"I was just raising my window and I got stung by two huge hornets. I didn't know it would hurt so bad."

The guest room wasn't used too often. I walked over and could see some agitated wasps flying around a small nest at the corner of the window.

"Erin, let's go out to the kitchen. Those old wasps will calm down after awhile and I can spray them. For now, I can help ease the pain for those big stings on your arm."

On the way to the kitchen, I grabbed a package of my grandpa's chewing tobacco. I sat her down in a chair and cut a small plug of tobacco off. Putting the tobacco in a coffee cup, I poured a small amount of water on it and mashed it down with a spoon. When it formed a paste, I applied it over the sting area.

She was looking at me with a puzzled look the whole time. Finally, she said, "You know, that really works. The pain has gone away. Who taught you how to do that?"

"My friend Virge Gates taught me this summer when I got stung by a bunch of yellow jackets."

"Is Virge a boy that lives nearby?"

"He lives nearby, but he ain't no boy. Virge is almost ninety years old. You can see the corner of his cabin from the front porch. It's not even a half mile away. He helps my grandma and grandpa out around the farm. You can meet him today. He was going to come by and take me fishing. Would you like to go?"

Smiling, she said, "I'd love to go. I've never been fishing and Virge sounds like an interesting man. Sounds like a real adventure."

Virge came by at two in the afternoon. I made the introductions and wasn't surprised that Virge knew her. He at least knew her daddy and grandpa and remembered her as a little girl. Within minutes, it was like they were the best of friends.

Halfway down to the lake, Virge suddenly stopped. "Oh my goodness. here's a treat for both of you.  Close your eyes and open your mouth for a big surprise."

When our eyes were closed, Virge put a green persimmon in each of our mouths and said, "Take a bite."

For a minute, think about putting the bitterest lemon you've ever had in your life in your mouth and taking a big bite. Think about how your face would scrunch up and you almost suck your lips back in your mouth. If you have that picture, know that the green persimmon was ten times worse. I heard Erin screech, "ugh" and then she spit it out. I did the same.

All the while, Virge was laughing. I could see that Erin was smiling, but I was mad. I never yell at Virge, but I did this time. "That ain't funny at all. That thing tastes terrible."

"Rabbit, I couldn't help myself. That's something that my daddy did to me about eighty years ago. I never thought about it till we walked by that tree. You might have thought it funny if you'd have seen the look on both of your faces. Plus, you know how old Virge likes to give lessons and I reckon there's a lesson in this one too."

"Yeah, I learned the lesson alright. Trust no one."

"No, the message is much simpler than that. It's, don't never close your eyes and open your mouth."

Virge started laughing again and this time, Erin was joining in. Not me, I was still mad. "I still think it was mean."

"Well, it would hurt me to have you mad at me. Would it be better if I took a big old bite of a green persimmon for you?"

I thought about this for a moment before I replied, "Yeah, I reckon that would be better."

True to his word, Virge pulled a big green persimmon off, closed his eyes, opened his mouth and took a big bite. The effect was almost immediate. His cheeks pooched in and his mouth formed a tight little O. I have to admit that I laughed. He looked wierd.

Virge asked, "So now you think it's funny?"

"I sure do. You should have seen the way you looked. Your face normally looks like a prune.  Now it looks like a dried up old prune with wrinkles."

With that, the three of us just howled. After Virge caught his breath, he said, "You know that there's another lesson in all this?"

Erin and I looked at each other puzzled. Finally, she asked, "What's the lesson?"

Virge smiled and said, "When friends laugh together, there ain't no room for anger."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother Erin - Friend of grandparents, a live in babysitter for Rabbit *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 11
Ch. 10, Part 2. Fishing

By bhogg

I started out being mad, but once Virge had Erin and I giggling our heads off, it was all over. We just headed down the hill to the lake to go fishing.

My grandparents' lake was beautiful, though on the small size by design. When built twenty years ago, the contractor wanted to make it larger. Given its location at the bottom of a natural basin and being spring fed, the contractor said, "We can make it as big as you want. It's a natural site." They made it five acres, large enough for lots of fish, but small enough to comfortably canoe around.

Many of the lakes in those days were fed by natural wash. This one, fed by two different springs, tended to be colored shades of green and rarely stained. One of the springs even had a name, Little Blue.  People in the county would come by and fill jugs with the cool and pure water.  A spring in the next county was named, Blue Springs.  Owned by a millionaire and developed, it made Little Blue seem a size appropriate name.

Virge gave Erin some of the history. Our fishing trip ended when he told her, "Rabbit and I cleaned out around old Little Blue last week. It was so hot, we just went over and soaked our feet in the spring. It don't matter what time of year it is, that old spring just keeps pumping out water at sixty degrees."

Being cool in the middle of a hot Mid-West Georgia summer, made it special. In winter, you could see steam rising, because at sixty degrees, the temperature tended to be warmer than the outside air. Erin almost squealed when she asked, "Can we just soak our feet first?"

What could Virge say? I've already told you she was real cute.

Anyhow, we headed over to the spring. Over time, it had been lined with rock. There were two large ones that you could sit on. We all went over and took off our shoes. Trying to be a gentleman, I reminded Erin, "If you want to take a drink, you might want to before Virge and I stick our feet in." A metal dipper hung on a post for just that reason. We all took a big drink before sitting down. There might be better tasting water somewhere in the world, but I sure ain't found it.

As we settled in, Virge asked Erin, "Did I ever tell you about the first time that me and Rabbit went fishing?" I just looked at Virge. How could she have heard? He just met her twenty minutes ago.

Politely, she said, "No, but I wish you would."

"Well, Missy, you just sit back and I'll tell you the story. It's a good one."

"When Rabbit was six years old, he asked me to take him fishing."

Erin interjected, "Wait, first you have to tell me how he got the nickname."

"I gets to take all the credit. The first time I saw him sitting on the front porch, it came to me. He was just sitting there. Those big old eyes was looking all around and them big old ears was moving side to side. He wasn't saying squat. I told his grandma that he was like the rabbit. He was just taking it all in. Ain't nobody going to get one by the Rabbit. Anyhow, it just stuck."

Erin smiled. "Okay, let's hear the fishing story."

Alright, here goes. I told Rabbit that the best bait was worms, and the best place to get them was his grandma's garden where she kept her compost pile. We got us a couple of cans and headed over. I handed Rabbit a shovel. I told him to brush the stuff off'n the top of the pile.

He's a pretty good boy and generally does what you ask. All of a sudden he piped up and said, "Virge, that ain't stuff. That's cow poop. That stuff is nasty."

I told him, "Now Rabbit, ain't nothin' God made nasty. Let me show you something."

I brushed the top off the pile and worms started going everywhere. We scooped them up and put them in the cans. Looking at Rabbit, I explained to him, "God is pretty smart. Them cows poop and your grandma throws it here with all dat other stuff. Them worms then eat it all up and den dey poop too. It becomes that dark ol dirt you see right there. Your grandma take all that dirt and spread it around all her vegetables. It makes em grown big and strong."

He looked at me and said, "That still sounds nasty."

I had to ask him, "Did your grandma make you one of her mater sandwiches for lunch, one of those good un's on loaf bread, slobbered up with mayonnaise?"

Of course, he looked puzzled, but asked, " How did you know?"

I told him I wasn't no mind reader. The proof was on the front of his shirt!

I then told him the science of the whole thing. "Rabbit, through that mater and down through dat dirt, through dem worms, and through all that other stuff, you done et some of that cow poop!"

After a bout of laughter, Erin asked me, "Rabbit, do you remember that."

With a sheepish grin, I replied, "I do remember. It seemed a bit dumb to me, but Virge doesn't let me down on nature stuff. Listening to him, it actually made sense."

Virge interjected, "What else did I teach you that day? I know you ain't forgot, because I see you practice what I taught you all the time."

I smiled before replying. "Virge told me that I wasn't fishing, I was feeding. I used to take the whole worm and sometimes two, and wad them all up on the hook. I couldn't figure out why Virge always caught more fish than me. He showed me how to break a single worm into thirds and string just the small part over the hook rather than a big old blob. That way, when the fish smelled the worm, he'd take a bite and most likely get a part of the hook."

"And what else did I tell you?"

Rolling my eyes, I said,  "I really do listen to you sometimes. You told me that fishing was a good lesson in life. Don't matter if it's bait or fish, don't use more than you need."

Virge smiled at Erin and she gave him a big one right back. She finally said, "When I get to that school in Macon, I hope I can be half the teacher as your are, Virge."

We all talked some more and at the end of it, didn't do any fishing. I didn't mind just sitting around. When Virge is in storytelling mode, it's worth just sitting back and listening.

We headed back up the hill, and Virge split off to his cabin and Erin and I back to the house.

When we got back to the house, Erin said to me, "That was great. I hope you didn't mind not going fishing. It was just so interesting to hear Virge tell his stories. He's very fond of you. You two made me all sweaty with all that walking around. I'm going to take a bath. Give me twenty minutes and I'll make us some supper."

We split ways, me going upstairs to my bedroom and Erin to the downstairs bath. I hung out up there for awhile and then headed back down the stairs. When I got near the bottom, I noticed that the door to the bathroom was partially open. Looking through the crack of the door, I froze in my tracks. My line of sight was to a mirror, but in that mirror, I saw Erin. She was buck naked! Her leg was up on the edge of the bath and she was drying it.

I can't explain it, but I had a strange feeling. I didn't want to keep going downstairs and I didn't want to go back up either. The sight before me froze me. All of a sudden, she looked up in the mirror and saw me. Taking a step toward the door, she closed it.

My older brother, John, tells me lots of stuff. Most of it is trash, but he did tell me there was a certain way you could tell a girl's true hair color. He is often wrong, but maybe not this time. Erin was a red head.

I hustled into the kitchen and started setting the table. In a few minutes, Erin walked in. She was dressed, with her hair wrapped up in a towel. She paused for a moment before asking, "You weren't peeking in on me were you?"

I know I blushed when I replied, "No, but I should have told you that this is an old house. It's done settled and relaxed over the years. That bathroom door is going to spring open every time unless you latch it."

Erin smoothed her hair out with her hand. "I believe you, Rabbit, so I should just apologize for embarrassing you."

"You didn't embarrass me."

"I didn't?"

"Well, no. You were the naked one."

Erin laughed. "Get on over here, Rabbit, and finish setting the table."

We spent three more days together. It was really fun having me an older sister. I believe it was fun for both of us. If you ain't never lived on a farm, you just ain't lived. We did it all. Virge even let her ride one of the mules. I was glad to see my grandma and grandpa get back, but sad too. I knew Erin would be going to Macon.

The day they got back, Erin and I helped get things re-organized. We then packed up her car. Standing beside it, she said, "I told you when I got here, I was going to enjoy having a little brother. I got more than that. I found a person who was willing to include me in his life and be my friend. We can't really be brother and sister, but can we always be friends?"

I had to pause for a minute, smile, and just let life catch up with me. "Erin, I would be honored to be your friend for the rest of my life. You just need to know one thing."

With a puzzled look, she asked, "What's that?"

"Well, you could never be my teacher."

"Why's that?"

"Because, standing in front of that room, it wouldn't matter what you said or how smart you were. I'd always remember how you looked naked."

I believe that Erin was taken back. At least, she stepped back and kind of squinted at me. We then played blink..... I lost, I blinked first. Actually, it wasn't a blink. It was a wink which I combined with the widest, white tooth smile I could conjure up.

She broke up in laughter and tousled my hair. "You know, Rabbit, I wish you were fifteen years older."

"Me too Erin. Me too."

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother Erin - Friend of grandparents, a live in babysitter for Rabbit *** This is a novel, so if some things don't make sense, please be aware that there are previous chapters. I wish I could make each chapter a stand alone masterpiece, but ...

Chapter 12
Chapter 12, Part One, Snakes

By bhogg

You don't need alarm clocks on a farm. The rooster had started his loud pronouncement about ten minutes earlier. I wasn't in a hurry to get up. My grandparents' house has only one bathroom. I'd been there all summer, so knew the routine by now. Grandma gets there first. Even though they have indoor plumbing, they still have a thunder bucket in their bedroom. The first sound I hear is the sound of that bucket swinging, eeeenh, eeenh, eeenh, and then I hear her dumping it. She then does her routine, which is pretty quick. Grandpa's turn is next and God is he loud. There's all sorts of grunting and groaning. It seems strange, but he always clears his throat, hawks into the toilet then pees. He shaves with an old fashioned straight razor. He strops it before each use, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. Once finished, he splashes on Old Spice ® and utters, "Ahhhh." When I smell the after shave, I know it's about my time.

It was kind of a sad day, to start a sad week.  There were only six more days before I'd be heading home to Alabama. To me, the summer seemed to disappear. As bad as the week was for me, little did I know it would be even worse for my grandma.

Of course, I'd be able to see my new baby sister for the first time. My grandma showed me a picture and asked, "Now, isn't she the cutest thing?"

I've been told I'm a sensitive person. Maybe I am, because I replied, "Yes Ma'am, she sure is." All the time, I was thinking she looked like a shriveled up frog.

The bathroom was finally free. My turn was next, which was a good thing. Finishing up, I headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Almost rounding the corner from the dining room to the kitchen, I stopped. Grandma and Grandpa were arguing, which was very unusual. Grandpa thinks he's the boss, but as far as I could remember, he ain't never been right.

I stopped. Not that I was eavesdropping, but it didn't seem right for me to keep going. I heard my grandpa say, "Hell no, I ain't jealous. It's just that I found that note about your boyfriend."

Loudly, my grandma asked, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Now Louise, I'm not stupid, I found the note. It said, 'Don't forget to pick up Curly Kale.' So, I want to know. Who the hell is Curly Kale?"

I couldn't help myself. I started snickering. From around the corner, I heard my grandma say, "Alright, Rabbit, I know you're in there. Come on around the corner."

Glaring at Grandpa, she said, "Even Rabbit knows about Curly Kale."

"He does? Who is he?"

Giggling, I said, "He ain't no he. It's more like an it. Curly Kale is that green stuff that Grandma makes that's like turnip greens, only better. We had it two nights ago with cornbread and fried pork chops. Between you and me, we ate it all up."

With a sheepish grin, Grandpa said, "I knew that. I was just clowning around." He took another bite of eggs and biscuit. Grandma just rolled her eyes. She did pat me on the head.

When Grandpa left to get ready for work, Grandma sat next to me. She brought her coffee and fixed one for me. Well, I call it coffee, Grandpa calls it cream and sugar with a little coffee for flavor.

"Well, Rabbit, it's your last week here on the farm. We sure are going to miss you."

Her eyes were red and a little misty. I guess she was a bit sad. I felt pretty sad too, but I wasn't going to cry. I'm pretty sure my eyes were red, but I get real bad allergies in late summer, that's all.

"You know, since it's your last week, you don't have to do your chores. I want you to know I've been proud of you all summer. You do your chores each day without complaining or putting them off. You've been a joy."

I sniffled through my allergies before saying, "I want to do my chores. It's what I do, plus I've gotten used to those dumb old chickens. You reckon they're going to miss me?"

With a big old smile, she said, "I reckon they will."

I went out to my job, first feeding the chickens and gathering eggs. I checked in on the brooder room. There were some new chicks I wanted to see. What I saw was strange. The chicks were gone, or at least mostly gone. There were a bunch of feathers and a half of one chick. From their nest, a head backed out, a big old snake head. Rushing out and looking behind the shed, there was a huge snake coiled up. He just looked at me and flitted his tongue in and out.

Running inside to get my grandmother was troublesome. Even though she lived in the country all her life, she was deathly afraid of snakes. They were her chickens though, so I thought she should know. I explained the situation and she came out. It was like though, she had one foot back so she could turn around and run if need be. We crept around to the back of the pen and there that old snake was. It was like he was in no hurry, just sunning himself and looking proud.

Keeping that foot back seemed to work for her. She shrieked, "Good God!" Turning back, she almost ran me over. When we got around to the front of the shed, she said, "Go get Virge to come and kill this snake."

I said, "Grandma, I can kill it if you want. I figure a shovel ought to do the trick."

She quickly said, "No, I want you to go get Virge. He'll know what to do."

I shrugged my shoulders and went to get Virge. His cabin was about a quarter mile away. I ran, which was pretty much what I did all the time anyhow. Virge was on his front porch in his rocking chair. He saw me and said, "Hey, Rabbit, what you in such a big hurry for this morning?"

Catching my breath, I blurted, "A big old snake has gotten into the brood pen and killed some chicks. Grandma wants you to come kill it."

"Rabbit, slow down a bit. Go on over to the hand pump and get yourself a drink of water."

Filling the dipper, I had a nice cool drink.

"Okay, come back and sit on the porch and tell me about this snake."

Sliding my butt onto the step and taking a breath, I began, "It's a big old snake. I bet he's as long as I'm tall."

"Okay, let's talk about what that snake was like. Was his head big and shaped like the head of a shovel?"

"Virge, I gotta tell you, I don't know if it was shaped like a shovel head or not. It was a snake head and it was connected to a snake. Who gives a shit what his head looked like?"

Virge tapped the ashes out of his pipe before sharply saying, "Now, Rabbit, you know that "S" word ain't something you use. I'm just trying to get a feel for what type of snake you got down there. Let me ask you something else. Was he colored up like the ground and leaves, or what?"

Scratching my head, I answered, "He wasn't colored like leaves at all. He was black and had white stripes."

Virge smiled before replying, "That's great. What we got us is an Eastern kingsnake. As far as snakes go, they don't come no better."

"Well, are you going to go down and kill it?"

"No, I ain't going to kill it. God's got a plan for all of his critters. They've all got a place in this world. I've known your grandma all her life and I know she's scared to death of snakes. Her brother played a mean trick on her when she was about six years old. He put a dead snake all coiled up in the outhouse where he knew she would see it. I could hear her scream all way up at my house. I ran down and removed it."

"Did her brother get in trouble?"

Virge laughed. "He sure did. I whopped him with a switch. He ran off and told his daddy. He came out and asked me for my switch and he whopped him too. Maybe the two of us beat some sense in him. He wound up being a pretty good boy."

"What we're going to do is go get that snake. Old Virge would like to have him as a pet. Kingsnakes are smart. Down there, he's eating chicks which ain't good. I'll put him underneath my house. He'll eat rats and mice. They even eat copperheads and other poisonous snakes."

"What you going to do when he eats up all the mice and rats? I don't believe you got a whole bunch of snakes up there."

"That's a good question and I got a good answer. I'll go catch him some rats or mice. The barn is full of them. Shoot, I might even let him sleep over at the barn some time."

"Virge, you say that God's got a plan for all critters, but rats and mice are pretty worthless aren't they?"

"No, they ain't, Rabbit. You just got to understand the circular nature of life."

"I don't get it. How can a rat or mouse be important?"

Virge smiled before replying, "Well, a snakes gotta eat."

Chapter 13
Snakes, Part 2

By bhogg

Hanging around Virge was always fun. You never knew when you were going to learn something new. It looked like today, we were going to catch us a snake.

"Okay, Virge, I reckon a snake does have to eat. How are we going to catch it?"

Virge smiled before saying, "We. You make it sound like you're going to help old Virge."

"Sure, I'm going to help. I might as well learn how to catch one. You never know when I might have to catch another. We better get going though. I think Grandma was pretty anxious."

We headed back down to the big house. About half way there, Virge stopped by a scrubby persimmon tree. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his Barlow pocket knife and whacked a branch off. He trimmed top and bottom and then held it out and looked. "I believe this will be about right."

What Virge had was about a three foot limb that was straight, but had two trimmed off branches on the front end that formed a "V". It was maybe one inch wide at the base and tapered just a little on the "V" end.

As we walked on, Virge started his teaching. "Rabbit, what we got here is a snake picker-upper stick. The snake ain't poisonous, but he can bite. His teeth are small and they can't really hurt you, but you never know what's been in his mouth, so this here stick will keep him away from my hand. I'll trap his head underneath the "V" end and then just pick him up. That is, unless you want to do it."

"No, I don't believe I'll do it this time, probably best to learn how first."

"Virge said, "Yeah, it probably is best for me to do it this time."

As we got near the house, we saw my grandma. Dressed as always in her cotton dress, she was standing by the henhouse and pointing to the ground. "That damn snake is still there. I'm going in; do you want me to take the boy in with me?"

"No, ma'am, I'll keep him here with me."

"You are going to kill that snake, aren't you, Virge?"

"Well, Miss Louise, I'm definitely going to get rid of him for you."

She said, "Okay," and headed back toward the house. I was glad I wasn't directly between her and that house. I believe she'd have run me down.

As soon as she was out of sight, Virge approached the snake. Sometimes I can't believe how much he knows. Things went exactly like he said they would. Extending the stick, he trapped the snake's head and then reached down and picked him up right behind the head. The snake immediately curled back up around the stick. Once he wrapped around that stick, Virge trapped his tail end down with his other hand.

I practically yelled, "Virge, that is slicker than snot. You caught that snake, just like you said you would! How come he wrapped back up along that stick?"

Smiling, Virge explained, "A kingsnake is what's called a constrictor. He'll wrap himself around whatever he's after and squeeze it until its dead. Just think Rabbit, he's probably laughing and saying, lookee here, I done caught myself a big old Negro."

With a big grin Virge, asked, "Do you want to touch him?"

"Sure I do. I helped catch him after all." Walking over, I touched the snake. It didn't feel like what I thought it would. First, it was very warm. The skin was dry to the touch and you could feel the muscles moving beneath the surface. The black color accented by bands of white was striking.

"Virge, he's a beauty."

"Yeah, he is. Since I'm going to take him home with me, we ought to give him a name. What do you think?"

"Well, you got yourself a snake on a stick. It would sound kind of dumb to name him snake, so why don't we just name him Slick?"

"I like that, Rabbit. Just know he's your snake too. You go tell your grandma that I got rid of the snake. I don't see no good reason to tell her I took it home and put it under my house. You make sure you come by and see me before you go home to Alabama."

"You know I will. I'll have to check in on Slick." It seemed strange watching old Virge walking back to his house. It's not every day you see someone walking around with a snake named Slick, choking a stick.

*****

I told you earlier that it wasn't a great week for my grandma; first the snake, and now her new dog King.

My dog, Skippy, died earlier in the summer. I suppose he wasn't really my dog, since he lived there all the time, but he did seem partial to me. To most folks, the way you view a dog is related to its personality. Skippy had one in spades. We were both sitting on the porch one morning and I accidently rocked over his tail. It didn't make sense to apologize or nothing. It made more sense to run. Skippy chased me until he was able to bite my butt. Once he caught me and bit, it was all over. Justice had been done.

Skippy did have a bad habit. He would position himself in the ditch in front of the yard and bolt upright when cars came by. With a frantic yelp, he would chase the car for a few yards. Well, one day he caught one and was killed.

Grandma, finally found a replacement, who she promptly named King. He was a mix between a Boxer and a Golden Retriever. Grandpa and I both agreed, that rather than King, he should be named Peasant. My Grandpa called him piss-ant, which I suppose is French for Peasant .

King had a problem with cars too. He didn't chase them out on the main road, but when my grandma would back her 1949 Plymouth Deluxe Coupe out of the driveway, old King would bite at the tires all the way out of the driveway. She was afraid that she would run him over. He wouldn't chase Grandpa's truck, just the Plymouth.

Like my friend Virge Gates, my grandpa knew a lot about everything. He told me one day that King wasn't chasing the car at all. Seeing his behavior, I had to ask, "He isn't? It sure looks like he's chasing cars."

"No, Rabbit, you just got to understand dogs. He ain't chasing the car, he's chasing the full moon shaped, chrome, hubcap and biting at his reflection . I know how to get him to stop."

"What are you going to do, Grandpa?"

"It's really very logical. I'm going to tamp a towel behind the hubcap. When he bites at his reflection, he'll reach out and bite that towel. When he grabs it, he will be shook to hell and back. It'll teach him a lesson and he'll never chase another hubcap."

Grandpa set his experiment up. He got one of grandma's kitchen towels and tamped it in behind the hubcap. "Okay, Rabbit, you just watch what happens when I back up."

He got in the Plymouth and slowly started backing out. King burst out from under the house and started chasing the car. Grandpa gave it a little bit of gas. It looked like he was right, because King started biting at the hubcap. All of a sudden, his teeth engaged the towel. With a little growl, he hung on. His body did about a half twist, but his head pretty much did a full twist. Grandpa stopped the car, got out and took a look at King. He wasn't moving. Grandpa went over and touched the dog's neck. He was deader than a doornail.

Grandpa looked up and me and said, "Gosh darn it, we're going to have to tell your grandma that King is dead."

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "What do you mean we, Grandpa? It wasn't my idea, and I wasn't driving. I was just watching."

With a sigh, he replied, "Okay, Rabbit, I reckon it was my doing, I'll go tell Louisee. She loved that stupid dog, so I don't know what in the world I'm going to tell her."

Her name was Louise, but I noticed, at certain times, he called here Louisee. I reckon this was one of those times. He took his hat off and walked up to the front porch. He called out, "Louisee - come on out, there is something I've got to tell you."

After a moment, she walked out the front door. She was wiping flour off on her apron as she said, "What is it, Horace? I'm busy baking some blackberry pies. What's so important that I've got to come out here?"

Shuffling his scuffed shoes, he said, "I've got some good news and some bad news."

Exasperated, she asked, "Okay, what's the good news?"

My grandpa answered, "Well, we're going to save a lot of money on dog food."

All my life people have said that I inherited my grandpa's sense of humor. I'm not sure. That was just wrong.

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother Erin - Friend of grandparents, a live in babysitter for Rabbit

Chapter 14
Going Home

By bhogg

I watched a movie with my grandma and grandpa about a cowboy about to be hanged. News to me, but it appears that the prisoner gets to choose their last meal. This guy had country fried steak, potatoes, gravy, biscuits and green beans. That was the way that I felt this morning.

Not that I was a prisoner, but my summer stay was ending. Late morning, my dad was picking me up to take me home to Alabama. Of course, my grandma's breakfast was everything I loved. She had eggs, country ham with red-eye gravy, grits, biscuits and sliced, fresh tomatoes. I couldn't help but think of that movie. It seemed a last meal.

My grandma was kind of teary eyed. She said, "Rabbit, you don't need to do any gardening work this morning. If you don't mind, just bring in the eggs. Then, you ought to go and say goodbye to Virge."

I suppose that some folks might think it strange. Virge was a ninety-year-old black man, but had been my best friend all summer. To be honest, best friend didn't really describe things. I loved that old man. Part of me wanted to just sneak home and not see him again. It was going to hurt so bad to say goodbye.

After gathering the eggs, I trudged up through the pastures to Virge's cabin, less than half a mile away. As I got near, I saw that he wasn't on his front porch. He was there though, because I could smell his Sir Walter Raleigh pipe smoke. He and my grandpa both smoked the same brand. Walking around the back side of his cabin, I spotted him.

As I approached, Virge gave me the shush sign and waved me forward. Going up to the back porch, it appeared that he was intently staring at the space next to his house. "Come here, Rabbit, and take a look at this."

What he was watching was his kitten, Buttons, stalking something in the weeds. Sidling up next to him, I asked, "What are you looking at?"

"Well Rabbit, this here is just fascinating. I know you got television and stuff, but entertainment don't get no better than this."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Just look at Buttons. He's been a housecat all his life. If he wasn't feeding off his momma's teat, he was getting food from me. But look at him. He's stalking our snake, Slick, who came out from under the house. See how Buttons is creeping up, hiding behind tufts of grass?"

"I see him, but I don't get it."

"The point is, he ain't never been trained to hunt. He's just doing it naturally. Not only that, but look at old Slick. He's agitating his tail among all them leaves so they rattle like a rattlesnake. Now that's not something he read in a book. He just does that naturally too. Do you know why?"

"No, I guess I don't."

"Well, it's called instinct. They don't have to learn it, they's just born with it. There are other types of learning. Do you remember when you used to get Skippy's leash out?

"Yes, I do. He would start doing his dance, because he knew we would take a walk."

"That's right, Rabbit. Old Skippy had learned that when you pulled that leash out he expected to go for a walk. He associated that leash with walking."

"Virge, how do you know all this stuff?"

"When your grandma brought me all those National Geographic Magazines, I read them. Between them and the Bible, I've learned all sorts of things."

"Those magazines came from my house in Alabama. I never read them. I did look at the pictures."

"Well, you goin' home today and I want you to promise that you are going to start reading them. That way, when you come back, we'll have all sorts of things to talk about. Let's go inside and get some iced tea."

We walked into Virge's cabin. He had an old icebox. Pulling out a hunk of ice, he put it into his ice bucket and whacked it into chunks with an ice pick. He then filled two mason jars with ice and tea. We didn't have any lemon, but we did put a couple of sprigs of mint in from his yard. I don't know why, but that chopped up ice always seemed to make the tea taste better. We walked out to the front porch and got in two rockers. The front porch was always in the shade, and generally there was a nice breeze.

For awhile, we just rocked. Finally, Virge said, "I am glad you come by. I know this is your last day here this summer. I want you to know that having you at your grandma's made my summer a heap better. We had us some good times."

"We sure did. I do want to get home, but I'm going to miss being here on the farm."

We rocked some more before Virge said, "How about one more game of checkers?"

Checkers was something that Virge taught me at the beginning of the summer. We played almost every day. I hadn't won yet, but was getting better.

"I'd like that game of checkers. I reckon it's just about time I won a game."

Virge pulled a small barrel between our chairs. The checker board was already there, so it looked like he was ready for a game. I was trying all the tricks he taught me over the summer and was doing pretty darned good. For awhile, I thought maybe Virge was letting me win. I took a peek at him though and suspect that he wasn't. His eyes were scrunched up more than usual. It looked like his wrinkles had wrinkles. He was trying hard.

Right when I thought I had him, Virge made me jump into a sucker play. He wound up getting one of my kings and two other checkers. It was all over. Pushing the barrel aside, Virge said, "Rabbit, you done real good. I've been playing checkers all my life and you durn near beat me. I compliment you on your play and also your attitude. Your brother John gets madder than a wet hen when he loses."

"Well, it may not have been in that National Geographic about learning, but there was something that you taught me earlier in the summer."

"What was that, Rabbit?"

"You taught me that if you try your best and things don't work out, just walk away with your head high and a smile on your face. I tried my best and almost beat you. Maybe next time I will. Anyhow, I'd better be getting back to the house. My dad will be there soon to pick me up."

As I got ready to leave, Virge said, "Now wait just a minute, Rabbit. Ain't you going to give old Virge a hug?"

Smiling at Virge, I said, "Guys don't hug. What if we just shake hands?"

He stuck his hand out and I reached out to shake. Of course, he tricked me a bit and grabbing my hand, pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back. He's an old man and don't get too many hugs.

As I left and got near the side of his yard, I turned around and hollered, "Virge, do you keep your Sir Walter Raleigh in a can?"

With a puzzled look, he replied, "I sure do, why?"

"Well, it's about time you let his ass out!" I could hear his deep from the gut laughter as I ran toward home.


 

Author Notes

List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother Erin - Friend of grandparents, a live in babysitter for Rabbit

Chapter 15
Life Goes On

By bhogg

When you're used to getting up in the morning to the sound of a rooster crowing, it's tough to just get on up without it. Now that I am home in Alabama, the new day was announced by my father yelling up the stairs, "Awake, awake, the dawn is here, the air is full of atmosphere." I wish he'd just yell, "Cockle, Doodle, Doo."

Not a day goes by when I don't miss the farm in Georgia. I bet I've asked myself a million times, "I wonder what Virge is doing?" We used to visit my grandma's pretty often as it's only a ninety minute trip, but with my new baby sister, Mama doesn't want to travel. My dad says maybe we'll go for Thanksgiving.

When I first saw my sister's picture, I thought she looked like a frog, but now I think she's pretty cute. She takes to me more than my two brothers. She must be smart. That's been a big change for me, but a fun one. I don't have chickens and a garden to take care of, but helping take care of my sister, Carolyn, is fun. My mom actually gave me a big hug the other day, because I changed Carolyn's diapers. She said, "You're one up on your brothers and tied with your dad."

I just had to smile before I said, "Mama, there are a lot of things in life worse than baby poop. I shoveled and moved around worse stuff all summer." That got me another hug.

I suppose that life was back to normal. School seemed even more fun than last year. Bobbie Joe Herlong told me she wanted to be my girlfriend. Funny though, she said, "I don't want to call you Rabbit. It sounds so baby-like. Can I call you Billy?"

I smiled, batted my eyes, and said, "You can call me anything you want."


When my dad came home from work, I don't think I've ever seen a longer face. He doesn't hug much, but he asked me to come over to where he was sitting. He gave me a hug before saying, "Rabbit, I'm sorry I've got to bring you some bad news. Our good friend Virge is dead."

School was in session, so my parents decided that Mom would stay home with the baby and my two brothers. Dad and I would go to Georgia for the funeral. Mom had to give me my older brother John's 'go to stuff' suit. I had outgrown mine. We packed up and headed to Georgia.

Travelling down the road, we kept our thoughts to ourselves. I finally asked my dad, "What did Virge die from?"

"Well, Son, you'd think that Virge just died of old age. He just turned ninety-one, but that wasn't what caused his death. The old coot climbed up on top of his roof to sweep some leaves off. He fell and broke some ribs. They got him to the hospital and patched him up. Everybody thought he was going to be okay, but he developed pneumonia in his lungs and just died. At least Carrie and Joe Leslie were with him. Carrie was the one who called me."

"I wish I had been there. I'd have climbed that roof and knocked those leaves off for him."

Dad smiled before saying, "I know you would have, Rabbit. We just have to accept it was his time. I've known Virge my entire life and have to admit that things won't seem the same without him. I was thinking last night of the last time I saw him this summer. He didn't look any different to me than he did when I was your age. He's been old forever. He's had a pretty good ride."

We just sat there quietly for the rest of the trip. When we pulled onto the dirt road that went to my grandparents' house, we drove right by Virge's cabin. It was the first time I cried. I wiped my eyes and looked at my dad. His eyes were red and puffy too.

I got out and opened the gate to the house. Grandma came out of the house to greet us. Without saying a word, she gathered me up in her arms and gave me a big hug. She stepped back and I could see tears in her eyes. She finally said, "I'm sure glad to see my two boys though I'm sorry it is under such sad circumstances. Ya'll come up and sit on the front porch. I'll bring you some iced tea."

We sat there for a while, rocked, drank some iced tea and took turns telling Virge stories. They laughed like crazy when I told them about the yellow jacket war. Grandpa finally got home from work. We all went in to dinner. It was strange, because it was all left overs. There was a fresh pot of collards and a platter of fried pork chops. I asked Grandma if we were going to have that for dinner. She smiled and touched my face before replying, "No, honey, you and your daddy are going to bring that by Virgil's Church tomorrow. They're going to have some food after the service."

"You could bring it. Ain't you and Grandpa going?"

She brushed some strands of hair away from her face before replying, "No, Rabbit, Grandpa and I won't be going tomorrow."

It took me a few moments to reply because I was confused. "Grandma, Virge has been around you since you were a little girl. How come you aren't going to the church?"

"Honey, your grandpa and I have never been to a Negro church. It just wouldn't be right."

I started to say something, but my dad pinched my leg beneath the table. I just shrugged and shut up. Later, I was even more confused when I found out that my grandparents paid for Virge's hospital stay and for his funeral. I don't know. There's just a lot of stuff I didn't understand.

Dad and I got to the church early. Some of the people came by to speak to him, but more came my way. I don't think Dad knew that I'd been to that church about six times that summer. Even the preacher from Atlanta came over. He shook my hand and said, "I remember you. You're Rabbit, the young man who professed to the congregation that you wanted to go to heaven. Just know that old Virge will be there before you. He'll be waiting for you."

"Yes Sir, I reckon he will be, and I'll be glad to see him. I've got to tell you though, I ain't in no hurry."

He laughed and said, "Indeed, young man, indeed."

My dad introduced himself. When the preacher left, Dad turned to me and winked. "Son, you never cease to amaze me."

Before the service, we were sitting down near the back. Carrie had tried to get us to sit with family, but my dad said, "Son, we should just sit in the back." He leaned over and whispered to me, "Son, it's an open casket. Do you want to go up and see Virge one last time?"

I blinked back a tear before saying, "No, Sir, I don't need to do that. That's not Virge up there in that box. He's dead and his soul is in heaven. If I want to see Virge, all I have to do is close my eyes."

My dad pulled his handkerchief out and wiped his eyes. I reckon he was hot.

In a few minutes, my favorite time at Virge's church started. The back doors opened and the choir came in. They don't just walk in, they dance in. They're swaying to the music, clapping their hands and swaying side to side. They were singing one of Virge's favorite songs, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow'. I remember sitting on his front porch and him playing his harmonica, singing this song. I don't remember all of it, but remember this part:

"I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."

It was a great service. Lots of people went up front and told stories about Virge. I knew him about as well as anyone outside of my family, but learned all sorts of stuff I didn't know. It seemed strange to me to learn that Virge learned to read and write when he was sixty years old. I thought you learned this early in school. The person telling this story was Carrie's son, Joe Leslie. He gestured to the congregation and acknowledged my father, saying, "It was Mr. Jack and me who taught him."

After the service, I was standing around a picnic table set up outside. I was picking out all of the fried chicken wings. I looked up as Virge's niece, Carrie, walked over. I greeted her with a big old smile, which she returned. I'm glad she didn't really know why I was smiling. Carrie had an unusual build. She was mostly normal up top, but below the waist, she had the biggest butt I'd ever seen. Virge used to call her Sugar Butts. Another reason I smiled is on my last day with Virge he encouraged me to read the National Geographic Magazines that we gave my grandmother. I started, and would have loved to tell Virge that I read a story about some tribes in Africa. It was natural for some black women to have big butts. I wanted to tell him that it was in their genes. Apparently it went way back in time. In times of famine and drought, having a big butt kept some folks alive. I reckoned that if a drought would come, Carrie and my cousin Wesley would outlive us all.

When Carrie got there, she gave me a huge hug and said, "Hey - Rabbit. I sure am glad that you and your daddy could come. Virge would have liked that. I got sumpin for you." She handed me a small package wrapped in a red bandana. Inside, a small square box and a note. The note was hand written. In large script was this note, "Hey Rabbit - I guess you know I'm dead. Remember that first time we went fishing. You was worried about them worms eating cow poop and then getting through nature to Grandma's tomatoes. It's time for them worms to get to ol Virge. Don't you worry though, I'll be a long way from them tomato plants. HA HA! I want you to do 2 things for me. First I want you to take care of my Barlow knife. It's in the small box. Second, I want you to think about ol Virge with a smile on your face. We had us some good times."

Virge taught me many, many things, only one of which was the importance of telling the truth. I lost your knife Virge, probably within five days. I do think about you though and with a big old smile.

Author Notes

This is part of a novel, so isn't really stand alone. There are some earlier chapters that would explain some of the things going on. Hopefully you'll read them! List of characters: Rabbit - young boy nine years old Grandma Louise (on the father's side) Grandpa Horace (on the father's side) Grandma Nan (on his mother's side) Pappy (Grandpa on his mother's side) Virge Gates - 87 year old black man, Rabbit's good friend Sugar Butts - Virge's nickname for his niece, Ms. Carry Joe Leslie - Carrie's son Wesley - Rabbit's cousin John - Rabbit's older brother and constant nemesis Carol - First cousin, daughter of his mother's brother Erin - Friend of grandparents, a live in babysitter for Rabbit

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