Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set

by Richard Mason

  When John Clayton came back, I reminded him of what Miss Tina had said about roaches at the church, and how she nearly died yesterday when that roach ran out from under the breadbox.

  “Yeah, Richard, that woman shor can’t stand roaches. We need to put a big roach on her.”

  “Well, what ’bout if there were fifty or maybe even a hundred roaches, and she and Doctor Carl were right in the middle of ’em?”

  “Wow, that’d be great, and I’ll bet them two would just go crazy, but how are we gonna do that?”

  “Okay, John Clayton, this is the plan: Tonight instead of goin’ frog giggin’ we’re gonna go to the city garbage dump with a paper sack and some wet white bread, and we’re gonna catch a whole toe sack full of roaches―maybe as many as a hundred. Then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get them roaches, Doctor Carl, and Miss Tina together.”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” hooted John Clayton, “that’s it! What a plan! Dang them anyway, gettin’ us switched three times for nothin’. We’re gonna get even!”

  We were just going on and on just laughing and hollering as we plotted about getting them roaches, when: “Hey, you little thieves! Been in anybody’s watermelon patch lately?”

  It was old man Odom, who had walked up behind us while we were talking about roaches. John Clayton jumped like he’d been shot, Sniffer howled, and old man Odom laughed.

  “Boy, that’s the way y’all gonna jump when I lower that shotgun down on you. Ha, ha, ha. Y’all come on by the patch; I need some target practice,” he hooted. “You little thieves!” And old man Odom sneered at us as he walked on by and went into the grocery store.

  “Dang, that sorry, old man; he scared me half to death,” said John Clayton. “He’s mean as a snake. I wish we could do something to get back at him.”

  “Heck, this is the perfect time to teach him a lesson. Remember, we talked ’bout it last week. He’ll be in the store for at least forty-five minutes. Let’s raid his watermelon patch right now.”

  John Clayton jumped up and gave me that “let’s get even” grin and hollered out, “Okay, Richard, let’s go! That old man is so mean he deserves to have his patch raided!”

  “Here, Sniffer, come on boy, let’s go,” I yelled as I jumped off the breadbox.

  We dashed down the road and in about fifteen minutes we came to a dirt lane that went down beside old man Odom’s farm. The lane would take us to a wooded area behind his watermelon patch. We’d slip from the woods into his corn field, and then crawl right up the edge of the patch. We quickly made it from the woods to the corn field, and then we slipped up to the edge of the melon patch.

  “Look, John Clayton, over near the house! There’s one of them big ones.”

  “Yeah, let’s go get it.”

  “Okay, but hold on a minute. Let’s check things out.”

  We looked the house and yard over, and it was so quiet that we just knew no one was home, but I had a kinda uneasy feeling.

  “Wait a minute, John Clayton. If we steal this melon all hell’s gonna break loose, and old man Odom is gonna go absolutely dog crazy. Are we sure this is what we want?”

  “Dang it, Richard, we gotta do something. That old man is just raggin’ on us all the time, and we need to teach ’em a lesson.”

  “Yeah, I know, but we’re already in ’nough trouble as it is, and I don’t think I can stand Curly comin’ after me for stealin’ a watermelon.”

  “Heck, Richard, they won’t be able to prove nothin’.”

  “I know, but maybe we oughta do something to let old man Odom know we could steal one of his watermelons if we wanted to.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ve got an idea. What ’bout takin’ that big one over there and puttin’ it on his front porch? Then he’ll know we could’ve stolen it if we’d wanted to. Shoot, that would do it, and we couldn’t be charged with stealin’ a watermelon, if we just moved it to his front porch. He’ll have a duck dyin’ fit when he sees that watermelon sittin’ there when he gets back from the store.”

  Well, John Clayton liked the idea, and we slipped out into the patch and picked the biggest watermelon we could find, hauled it around his house, and put it on his porch right in front of the screen door.

  “Let’s go. Here, Sniffer.” We sprinted outta the corn field and through the woods, and in less than ten minutes we were back downtown. We were back on the breadbox before old man Odom even made it out of the grocery store. He’d been in the back talking about feed with Mr. Echols for about thirty minutes, and Mrs. Echols was just making out his charge ticket when we got back to the breadbox.

  “John Clayton,” I whispered, “when old man Odom walks by and mouths off at us, just smile the biggest smile you can and don’t say a word.”

  “Okay, Richard.”

  In a couple of minutes he walked out of the store and looked over at us sitting there on the breadbox. We were smiling to beat sixty, and he was just about to say something to us when a thought hit him.

  “What the hell are you little thieves smilin’ ’bout? Uh, oh, my god, you better not have been in my watermelon patch!” He ran over and got in his pickup truck and headed home with his tires just a-squealing.

  “Let’s get outta here. I don’t wanta be on this breadbox when he comes back lookin’ for us. Maybe he’ll cool down in a few days,” I said.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” said John Clayton. “I’ll meet you at eight o’clock at your house, and we can go get them roaches. Heck, I’ll bet we can figure how to get them sorry people and the roaches together.”

  Me and Sniffer got home about an hour before supper, and I plopped down on the front porch to read a funny book before Momma called me in. It was another one of them silent suppers where we just sat there and ate. Momma and Daddy never said a word to each other.

  “Richard! Richard!” John Clayton called.

  “Momma, it’s John Clayton, and we’re fixin’ to go frog giggin’.” Momma just nodded her head. Lately, since she and Daddy started having problems, she seemed so sad, and she didn’t care about nothing. Heck, I could’ve told her I was going to go jump in the river, and she’d have just nodded her head.

  “Here, Sniffer, here, boy.” Sniffer bounded out from under the house, we headed out, and in a few minutes we were standing at the city dump with our headlights, paper sack, wet bread, and toe sack.

  “My lord, Richard, look at all the dang roaches; there’s hundreds, maybe thousands. We ain’t gonna have no trouble catchin’ all we want.”

  John Clayton was shor right about that, but right then the whole get-even trick started to get plum outta hand. We’d put the big paper grocery store sack with the wet bread down and walk away, and in a few minutes we’d come back, close up the top of the sack, and then pour the roaches from the paper bag into the toe sack. Two hours later we were still dumping roaches in the toe sack. Heck, I guess we just weren’t a-thinking of how many we were catching because they was so easy to catch―big mistake―a really big mistake.

  “Hey, Richard, how many do you think we’re catchin’ each time?”

  “I don’t know, maybe twenty-five to fifty. Heck, we’ve sure dumped a whole bunch in this toe sack. It feels like it weighs, oh, maybe ten pounds. Say, how many roaches does it take to weigh ten pounds?”

  “Well, let’s see; I’ll bet it would take, maybe three hundred to weigh a pound, and you think you have ten pounds. Hummmm, that’s over three hundred roaches. No, wait, yes, it’s over three thousand. Dang, Richard, that a lot of roaches. Maybe that’s too many?”

  Well, when ten pounds of roaches is in a sack it don’t seem like many, but, as we found out later, it’s a whole bunch when they start running around. Heck, if we had just stopped then we might have been okay, but I kinda sneered at John Clayton and said, “Too many? You chicken! I guess you’ve forgot ’bout them switchings, huh?”

  “Naw, I’m not no chicken. Here’s another sack full.”

  Well, pretty soon, uh, well actually after abou
t another three hours of catching roaches, the danged toe sack got heavier and heavier until I called a halt to the roach catching. When I picked the sack up I knew right then we’d overdone it―big time―but then I rubbed the back of my legs where I’d gotten the last switching and thought, They’re sure gonna regret tangling with me and John Clayton. This’ll teach ’em.

  Then I tried to pick up the sack by myself and I realized we’d put a whole bunch more in than we’d intended to. Heck, I could hardly lift it. Is this thirty-five―forty-five pounds of roaches―too many? You know, right then I knew durn well it was way too many, but there’s something about me that makes me do things I ought not to do. Dang, maybe fifty or even a hundred roaches would’ve been enough, but we probably had six or seven thousand in that toe sack by the time we quit.

  “Come on, Sniffer, let’s go.” I picked up the sack and we started back toward town.

  “Dang it, John Clayton, this sack’s heavy. I need some help.”

  As we carried the sack back into town I begin to think that thirty-five pounds was a little light and maybe we had forty or fifty pounds of roaches. Do we have eight thousand or maybe nine thousand roaches in this toe sack? What will happen if some way we could get all them roaches in a little twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot office? Huh? It’ll be wall-to-wall roaches; yep, a roach carpet. Well, I started giggling just thinking about it, as I walked along and thought about Miss Tina being a-scared of roaches. We finally made it back to town, and since it was still early we were looking for something to do.

  “Hey, why don’t we hide this sack of roaches and do a little window walkin’? We’re not far from Miss Simpson’s house,” said John Clayton.

  We had accidentally started window walking last year while we were frog gigging. Window walking ain’t exactly something you talk to your folks about. Anyway, it gets really hot during the summer, and most folks put in big attic fans to pull in the cool night air through their open windows. Last summer we walked by Miss Simpson’s window on our way from one frog gigging pit to the next, and we just happened to glance in the open window, and there stood Miss Simpson, and she didn’t have a stitch of clothes on from the waist up. Well, after a while, we went on about our business, which was supposed to be frog gigging. However, after seeing Miss Simpson we started doing more of what we called window walking than frog gigging.

  “Heck, John Clayton, we’ve been by her window a hundred times since last summer, and we haven’t seen one little thing. We’re wastin’ our time.”

  “Shoot, Richard, it’s right on the way home, and you never know, we might get lucky again.”

  John Clayton put the sack of roaches in an old culvert beside the road, and we turned off our headlights and headed for Miss Simpson’s house. Soon we were crossing the open field beside her house, and in just a minute or so we were hiding behind her big azalea bushes.

  “Another big zero,” I whispered to John Clayton, “she’s not even home. The house is completely dark.”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  We started back toward the street passing the bedroom window where last summer we’d seen Miss Simpson, when I heard something.

  “Shusss, listen.”

  We could vaguely hear two people talking. I heard a man say “Helen,” and then Miss Simpson said, “Oh,” and then they both laughed. Something was familiar about the laugh of the man.

  “John Clayton,” I whispered, “what’s goin’ on?”

  “Sounds like Miss Simpson is foolin’ round with somebody.”

  “Yeah, let’s get outta here before they hear us,” I said.

  “Heck, Richard,” John Clayton whispered, “let’s listen some more. Shoot, you never know, they might turn on the lights.”

  “No, I’m leavin’, and right now.”

  I was really getting uneasy because that laugh was too familiar, and if I stayed around much longer, I just knew we were gonna hear Miss Simpson say, “Jack,” and I didn’t want John Clayton to know. Me and Sniffer made it home in a few minutes, and I walked back to the kitchen table where Momma was listening to the radio.

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “He went to town for some cigarettes. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  I shook my head as I walked into my bedroom. It was hard falling asleep that night after adding Daddy to the top of my list of things to worry about.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Roach City, USA

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  “Dang, stupid clock,” I muttered. It was hard to get up, and before I knew it I’d dozed off. I woke with a start and looked at the clock.

  “Oh, my gosh—it’s five-thirty! Doc’s gonna have a fit.” I pulled on my shorts and ran outta the house calling for Sniffer. I ran almost the whole mile to the newsstand, thinking as I ran of a good excuse. I burst in the door yelling.

  “Doc! Doc! Somebody has been in our barn again and both our mules are out. Me and Daddy has been chasin’ ’em for ’bout an hour, and I’ve gotta go back and help him as soon as these papers are delivered. Hurry, hand me my bag.”

  Well, Doc looked shocked, but before he could quiz me about the barn door being open and the mules getting out I was out the door with my paper bag. Heck, if I’m thirty minutes late, without a good excuse, Doc will deduct fifty cents from my route money, and I’ve had a couple of weeks where I delivered paper for nothing. After a deduction or two you learn to make up good excuses. When I ran back in after I finished, Doc wanted to talk about the runaway mules, and why I was out chasing them at four in the morning, but I put him off saying Daddy was waiting on me, and we’d talk about it tomorrow.

  I knew tomorrow would probably bring another excuse, and if it didn’t Doc would probably forget about me being late.

  After my paper route, while it was still almost dark, I picked up the toe sack full of roaches and drug it over to a big patch of weeds across from Doctor Carl’s office, where it would be real handy. Later that morning me and John Clayton sat on the breadbox trying to figure out how to get them roaches, Doctor Carl, and Miss Tina together.

  “Well, we dang sure can’t just run into the office and dump the toe sack on the floor. Man, they really would have us arrested. We gotta do it in secret, where nobody can see us, and if nobody sees us, then they might think it’s us, but they can’t prove it, and even in Vermont they wouldn’t convict you just because they thought you did it,” I said.

  “Yeah, you’re right, Richard―Hey, let’s go over across the street from Doctor Carl’s office and hide in the weeds by the railroad track, where we can watch the office and see Miss Tina through the plate glass window.”

  “That’s a good idea.” We walked down the sidewalk to where we could see into Miss Tina’s office. In a few minutes she escorted a patient back to see Doctor Carl, and we ran across the street and hid in the weeds beside the tow sack.

  “Sit, Sniffer.” Sniffer plopped down in the weeds beside us, and in a few minutes he was sound asleep. We watched and watched, and finally we figured it out. Miss Tina sat out in her office when she had patients in the waiting room, and when Doctor Carl buzzed her, she’d escort one of them back to his office. When she didn’t have any patients in her office, she’d go back into Doctor Carl’s office and wouldn’t come out until a patient came in and dinged the little bell on her desk. Heck, it didn’t take me no time to come up with a real good plan.

  “Okay, John Clayton, this is how we’re gonna do it: When that last patient leaves, and Miss Tina goes back into Doctor Carl’s office, and if the street is clear so we won’t be spotted, we’re gonna run across the street with this toe sack, you’re gonna open the door, and then I’ll slip in and dump the roaches over behind Miss Tina’s desk. After I run out the door you close the door and jam this board under the door. That’ll make them stay with the roaches a little longer.”

  “All right, Richard, but you better get ready ’cause the last patient in the waitin’ room just went in.”

  Evidently that last patien
t didn’t have much wrong with him because it weren’t ten minutes until he left Doctor Carl’s office, and Miss Tina stood up and slowly walked into the back office.

  “Now―let’s go, run, run!” I whispered.

  We dashed across the street, stopping at the office door to look around, to be sure nobody could see us, and as John Clayton held the door open, I ran in and dumped a bunch―oh, I don’t know, maybe about thirty-five or forty pounds―of roaches on the floor behind Miss Tina’s desk. Wow, them roaches was so glad to get outta that sack, that they were scurrying all over the office, climbing up the desk legs, and fanning out all across the floor by the time I got back to the door. I closed the door real softly, John Clayton jammed a flat piece of wood under the bottom of the door, and we started back toward the patch of weeds.

  “Hey, John Clayton,” I hissed as we ran, “I’ve still got quite a few roaches in this sack. I guess some of ’em held on to the sack when I tried to dump ’em out.”

  “Richard, look, that’s Doctor Carl’s car! See if it’s unlocked!”

  “It’s unlocked!”

  “Dump the rest of the roaches in the car.”

  I opened the car door of that big old Buick and shook the toe sack real good. Shoot, there were a whole lot more roaches in that sack than I thought, and before I could shut the door they was scurrying all over the front seat and even crawling up the dashboard. I shut the door, hurried back to the patch of weeds, and waited for Miss Tina to come back to the front office. In a couple of minutes roaches started climbing up the window and door facing, and even though we were across the street crouched down in a patch of weeds, we could see roaches all over the office. Then it just hit me like a brick: “Oh my god, John Clayton, there’re too many―way, way too many! They’re everywhere! I told you thirty-five pounds of roaches was too many!”

  “What? No, you didn’t. In fact, I had to stop you, or we’d have had forty or fifty pounds of roaches.”