ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT
AND SOME THAT AIN'T
Howdy folks! This here's ol' Pete and Rosebud comin' at you again!
I don't know if you remember, but last time I was tellin' about how me and my mule Rosebud got woke up out of a sound sleep by somebody bangin' on the front door. I ain't sayin' that I ain't never been woke up like that before, but even if I have, I still don't like it. It's kinda scary, you know, bein' roused up out of a sound sleep like that, not knowin' who's out there or what's goin on.
We couldn't tell who it was since they was out there in the dark. Not that we'd have been able to tell even if it had been broad daylight. You can't see through a wooden door and whoever it was took off before we could get a look at 'em. Rosebud started makin' a racket in the livin' room, knockin' over stuff when she woke up, and they heard it and took off. By the time she got out there, they was goin' out of sight.
There's a ol' sayin' about leavin' sleepin' dawgs alone. There's somethin' to that. Me and Rosebud neither ain't gonna leave you alone if you start poundin' on the door and wakin' us up out of a sound sleep. Rosebud got a glimpse of 'em just as they went out of sight and, natcherly, we wanted to know who it was and what they was up to. There wasn't no goin' back to sleep nohow, so we figgered we might as well go see if we could track 'em down and find out what's goin' on.
We started down the road the way Rosebud seen 'em go. The moon was peepin' up over the tree line by then. It was almost a full moon and there wasn't no clouds, so there wasn't no need for a light. You could see as plain as day, but whoever it was had a good five or ten minnit head start on us. We stood on the porch talkin' about it that long. So there wasn't a soul in sight when we started out. Nothin'.
Neither one of us was sayin' anything as we went down the road. I got to listenin' to the sound we made as we walked along, that crunchin' sound my feet made on the gravel, and that kind of soft cloppity-clop sound Rosebud makes when she walks. It seemed like it was a lot louder than usually, but it always does when you're out at night like that. Even if you ain't follerin' nobody, there's just somethin' about the dark that makes you want to be quiet. The little noises you make all the time, the one's you don't even notice in the daytime, seem a lot louder at night.
As it turned out, it wouldn't have made no difference how much noise we made. We could've been a brass band comin' down the road and it wouldn't have mattered. The people we come up on was makin' so much noise theirselves that they never would have heard us.
It'd make a better story if I told you that it was a carload of FBI men and they was shootin' it out with gangsters or somethin' like that. But that wouldn't be so. And I keep a close watch on the truth when it comes to things I tell you about. Got to. You start makin' up stuff and, first thing you know there ain't nobody believes nothin' you tell 'em. But this way, you don't have to try and sort out what's true and what ain't in the stories I tell you. And that's the way I aim to keep it. Anyway, back to this story, the true story.
We come up on this car settin' square in the middle of the road down there by the Tucker ol' place. It was settin' there with it's lights on, radio goin' full blast and with all four doors and the trunk lid wide open. A feller looked like he was tryin' to jack up the back end of the car and his wife was wavin' around a flashlight, tryin' to shine it where he needed it. And there was a gaggle of young'uns runnin' around like a bunch of wild men, causin' all kinds of commotion. Some of 'em was playin' tag, some of 'em was hangin' out the winder and one little feller had figgered out how to turn the radio on and was switchin' back and forth from one station to another. The ol' boy back there tryin' to jack up the car looked like he was about ready to start pullin' his hair out.
It didn't take no rocket scientist to figger out what was goin' on. They was on their way on up the holler past our house to where their kinfolks live for Thanksgivin' when they had a flat tire. While the man and his wife was tryin' to fix it, one of the young'uns snuck off and come up here and knocked on the door. And you know the rest of it. As it turned out, there wasn't no big deal to it. And there usually ain't. Somethin' wakes you up and you start imaginin' all kinds of things. Then you find out what really happened and it ain't nowhere near as bad as you'd pictured it up.
Seems to me that's usually the way it is. Most of the time the things we worry about ain't half as bad as we think they are. And that, my friends, is somethin' we can be thankful for on Thanksgivin'. Best wishes from me and Rosebud and ol' Denver up here in Gump Holler. And may all your emergencies be little ones.
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