Butchy the Chicken Whisperer. Chap 9.

Being a Chicken Whisperer that wears glasses I am often speckling up my lenses. I hate to stop and clean my lenses. It’s troublesome. I have to go inside and hold them under running warm water and moosh in some hand soap. Then rinse them off and dry them off. So to say the least I wait until I can barely see through the speckled spots and blowing chicken yard debris. Therefore I wouldn’t have to do this laborious work if I were a singing cowboy like Roy Rogers or Hoop Gibson. Those guys don’t wear glasses. My older but meaner sister doesn’t wear glasses. Clarabelle the clown doesn’t wear glasses. So, why should I? But my mom told me I had to wear glasses. Dang it all anyway!

Never the less, speaking of soap, I was playing with Jimmy Vasquez a few days ago. Jimmy is in my second grade at school. He lives down at the end of the street near the railroad tracks. So he often comes up to my house to play soldiers. We sometimes push and shove each other. Wrestle each other to the ground. But with wearing glasses they sometimes fall off. And sometimes break. But this time my glasses fell off but didn’t break. So I push Jimmy very hard and he pushes me back very hard. All of which made me very mad. So I called Jimmy a stupid Jackass. My go to word when I’m very angry. However the unfortunate thing at that time my mom was on the porch and heard me say the word, “Jackass.” So she calls out my real name. “Charles Ronald, come inside now!” At that moment I knew I was in big trouble. So Jimmy went home and I went inside.

My mom says I’m going to teach you to never say naughty words. At which point I thought she was going out to the backyard and get a switch off the peach tree but takes me into the bathroom instead. There she takes me to the bathroom sink and turns on the cold water. Then grabs a bar of Ivory soap, commands me to open my mouth, and proceeds to stick the soapy bar in my mouth. ‘I’ll teach you to not speak naughty words, she barks. So I am bubbling and gagging all the while she’s telling me she is washing out my mouth to get rid of the bad words I recently had spoken. “Don’t you ever say that word again,” she continues. “Just you wait until your daddy hears about this.” He’ll whip you good with his belt.” I’d be ashamed of you young man” she rails on. So I am hunched over the sink bubbling and spitting. All the while my glasses are soapy and smudged. Dang! I blurt. I just cleaned my glasses. Now look at them. But before I can pull away from the sink, my mom once again inserts the soap back into my mouth. “Don’t you ever say Dang again. You hear me boy. Bubble, gag, spit I respond. “Now clean up your mess young man,” she insists.

Jumping jingle bells! Have you ever eaten a bar of soap? If you had, you must have said something bad yourself. Right?

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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