Saturday, January 17, 2009

It's Coming

Little, what is that? I can’t see it from up here on the deck.

It’s a dead coyote.

What?  That close to the back fence?


Well quit pokin’ at it and get the dogs away from it.

OK.  Sadie!  Fred!  Get!

Does it smell?

No, but the maggots are all over it.

Damn, Boy, this ain’t Bones.  Get away.  Chase, you too!  I mean it.  Chase, drop it! Don’t you dare drag that off with your bare hands!

Sugar, I got it.

You’re gonna pull the tail off.

Sugar, I got it.

Your Momma is gonna kill me if you get some kind of hideous disease from throwing that thing over into the timber. …Aw, there you go anyway. 

Sugar, I got.

I’m gonna slap you sideways and your Momma will thank me for it. At least make sure you wash your hands!

We still don’t know how it got there.   Big, Little, Chase, and BD all agree that the idiot neighbor boy got it with his .22 and it crawled up to the fence row and died.

I disagree.

I think something more sinister is afoot.  I feel it my bones.  I smell it in the air. I’m breaking out into cold sweats.

Have you heard of The Jersey Devil-The Iowa Grass Monster-The hideous, yet fascinating train wreck that is the Chupacabra?  

I’m telling ya.  It was some kind of dark creature that laid waste to that poor coyote. 

Lock up your dogs.

Put the livestock in the barn.

Turn on the flood lights and baton down the hatches.

Momo is back and he’s got a thirst for blood!

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