So, I’m writing this book and need to do some warm up writing exercises. You know. To get the brain working. So instead of a word vomit, I’m trying something different. A story. Come along!
This is a tale of a boy. A boy in a rural town. Now, this particular story is not how the boy was abandoned by his mother at a young age or the rough childhood he had growing up. No, this tale it about a boy free from beatings and terrorizing cousins. This tale starts after he turned 13, but before he was a man.
This boy was out on his Step-Father’s farm with his trusty farm dog, Buck the Wonder Dog. This dog was infamous in the county for reasons that do not pertain to this particular tale. But few things he was famous for was the following: being a hunter, a chaser and a fighter. The dog, though small in stature, could jump a six foot fence no problem. He was Buck: The Wonder Dog! And he was mighty.
Now, back to the boy. He was out in the field with Buck, fixing a tractor when he heard barking. That in of itself was not unusual. It was the duration of the manic barking that concern the lad. So, he wanders over to the tree stump Buck was preoccupied with. The tiny blue heeler was jumping all around the ancient wood, looking for something. So the boy, naturally curious, looks into the hole that was there. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew that there was something there. After all, Buck wouldn’t stop barking.
So the boy did what he considered was the next logical step to asserning what was in the tree. He reached in the dark, damp, rotten hole with his bare hand. Much to his astonishment, something bit him! The boy was very upset that a mysterious critter had the audacity to bite his hand. He was going to teach it a lesson.
To the surprise and horror of the boy, whatever was hiding deep within the trunk of the tree did indeed bite him and bit so hard that it punctured the work gloves he had put on. The boy, with a shout loud enough to startled Buck, pulled his arm forth from the mouth of the wooden creature to reveal his advorsary and criminal of bites…. a woodchuck.
This critter was longer than his forearm and stronger than anything he had wrestled with before. The sharp teeth pierced the tender spot between thumb and forefinger deeply. He attempted to swing the beastie off his hand, but the rodent refused to let go. Whether it was due to the boy disturbing it’s home and wishing to punish him, or because Buck was excitedly jumping up and around with snapping jaws, the woodchuck would not let go.
The boy, frustrated and flustered, tried to get the dog to calm down long enough pry the jaws off his hand. Yet, Buck refused to be placated. He had other ideas. Using his tiny legs, he used his human companion as a springboard and only let up once the boy began to threaten to strike him.
Finally, the boy was able to swing his arm hard enough to dislodge the rodent from his hand. The massive woodchuck flew up into the air like a firework. Underneath it danced the one and only Buck. Shimming to the left. Then shuffling to the right. Only to return to the left just to get the perfect angle on the flying quarry. The boy stood to the side, mesmerized at the show before him.
Much too soon for the woodchuck and not soon enough for the dog, the rodent hit the highest point in it’s arc. Then time stood still for the boy. He watch in horrid fascination as the animal began its descent to earth just as Buck leapt up into the air. As the boy would later describe to his daughters in the future, the sound from the two animals colliding in the air was akin to screeching tires on the freeway. Then Buck dropped harder than a meteor strike as he reaffirmed that he was a born hunter.
From here, you can use your imagination. As long as it ends in one satisfied dog, a dead rodent, and a boy who learned a valuable lesson on the farm. Don’t stick your arm down random holes, no matter how much your dog barks at it. Nothing good will come from it.
if you made this far, allow me to tell you that this is a true story from my father’s childhood. it never fails to make me laugh when he tells it.
Theresa's Life 