Newspapers & Foghorn Leghorn

            With the current state of the labor market, people have begun to take jobs that they would not have considered years ago. PhD’s are asking “would you like fries with that?” People with MBA’s are reminding us, “Remember, that movie is due back by Tuesday.” With this in mind, I thought I might pass along some lessons I learned as a child, while working at an occupation that many adults might now, find themselves grudgingly filling.

At about fifteen, I was offered the opportunity to take over the newspaper delivery route that had previously been serviced by my friend Steve. The papers were to be delivered in the afternoons, but for some reason, he suggested … in fact insisted, that he show me the route in the morning for two days. He said that after two days, he would give me a comprehensive map and set of instructions and assured me that I would do fine. I couldn’t imagine why he insisted on training me as he did since it meant that for two days he had to go around once in the morning to show me and once in the afternoon to actually deliver the papers. I couldn’t figure it out, that is, until exactly three houses into my first day delivering alone. My papers were dropped to me on time. I folded them, put them in my delivery bag and started on my way. My tosses to the porches of the first two houses were dead on target … plop, right on the porches. The next house, the Waters house ... wanted their paper placed inside the screen door. As I peered into my delivery bag to fish out a paper and unfold it, I became vaguely aware of a sound that resembled the sound of a chain being dragged down the road. I looked up and to my right, towards the source of the noise, only to see a sight that challenged my bladder control like a 64oz soda followed by a bumpy car ride. There, charging towards me at approximately the speed of light was what I shall euphemistically refer to as “a dog”. Based upon his toothy sneer, he was either very pleased with his new bridgework, or very displeased with my presence on his territory. I believe that you would refer to this … colossus … as a German Sheppard, but you won’t convince me that it was anything but a grizzly bear with a black and brown fur coat and pointy ears. I mean to tell you that this dog was so immense that he had his own zip code. Needless to say, the paper was delivered to the driveway that day … next to the wet spot.

Over time, much as alcohol does for grown men, the chain buttressed my courage. I even learned the dog’s name. I have often theorized that he came to be a creature of such foul disposition because someone had the temerity to name him Sweetypie. Nonetheless, I gradually built up my nerve. Each day, I would tentatively walk past Sweetypie and to the porch where I put the paper inside the door. Now although I became more comfortable with things, Sweetypie did not. Every time I walked past him, he hunched his gargantuan shoulders and tore out after me with a growl that bore a strong resemblance to the sound of one of those big land-moving machines. Thing is, I was about forty feet away and his chain was about twelve feet long. As vicious as Sweetypie was, he was dumb as a stump, and every day, he would get up to full speed at about eleven feet. At twelve, he'd hit the end of his chain and his rear feet would come whipping out beneath him just like the dog that Foghorn Leghorn always tormented in the cartoons. When he hit the end of that chain, the back wall of the garage (to which he was affixed) would shake like a Yugo doing 65mph. Oil cans and tools fell to the floor and the poor, stupid dog damned near strangled himself.

So as the days went by, I got cocky (not a good thing). I would mock him and taunt him as I walked past. After all, he was chained to a wall. Perhaps now is a good time to tell you about how when subjected to repeated stress, the threading on screws can eat away at the wood that holds them in place. When the wood on the back wall went “pop”, there was a delay. My eyes saw what happened, but for some reason, my mind did not process it as quickly as I would have liked. I am unsure whether my neurons were just that slow, or if my mind was attempting to reject the reality that it was given and substitute it’s own more acceptable reality. Either way, I figure that the delay cost me about 1.2 seconds. In case you were wondering, a demonically possessed, ferocious dog can cover approximately twenty-three feet in 1.2 seconds. This left about five feet of separation between me … and a grisly death. Fortunately, when he closed that last five feet and slammed his vice-like jaws shut, they clamped shut on my delivery bag. This left me just enough time to shed the bag and scurry up the small tree in the Waters’ front yard much like a frightened chipmunk. There I waited patiently for about a half hour until Mr. Waters arrived home from work. As I sat in that tree, it dawned on me. In every one of those cartoons where Foghorn Leghorn tormented the dog … the dog always got loose.

Reviews

[Kristina Moulaison]

"a sight that challenged my bladder control like a 64oz soda followed by a bumpy car ride. There, charging towards me at approximately the speed of light was what I shall euphemistically refer to as “a dog”."...HILARIOUS!!! This is the kind of writing I love the best from you. I want to see you with your own column somewhere, speaking in your own voice with clever anecdotal truths and real world wisdom that speaks to current events. I would love to have had you tie this up with a bow at the end and draw our minds firmly back to our current circumstances. I know that's what the last sentence was there for, but for the dim-witted, like me ( note me borrowing your self debasing reviewing and relational style here ) I would have enjoyed it being spelled out for me. Maybe I'm wrong and that would detract from the clever ending, I don't know. This is a great story!

Your writing always facinates me as well as keeps me wanting more.. Keep up the great work.

[Emily B]

hard lesson learned :)

[Gracie-San]

This story was a good narrative, not to mention quite humorous, too. You could be a really great satirist with your metaphors and similes.

[J. Hampton]

Lol...
Excellent write
a very narratable piece ..would make a great short film festival script
I like

[Ferg]

Great writing. Good Lesson.....oh to be young and agile enough to climb a tree in so little time! Hope this means you are feeling a bit better! (though the whole clown thing is creeping me out!)

[Doreen]

This is an amazing read! I loved it! I wonder if you ever watched the movie, "The Sandlot." If you haven't, I highly recommend it. You tell a story quite well. Thank you so much for sharing!