Note: The large print paperback edition of this book is a great gift for Fathers Day, especially for vision-impaired. It's also available in audio book format.
How do you handle a crazy jackass? Eddie knows. If you ask Eddie, he'll tell you pigs can fly and show you where to find real mammoth bones. Take his word for it when he tells you always to bet on the bear. These are things he learned while dreaming of becoming a cowboy in West Texas during the Depression.
Through Eddie, the hero of "Tales of a Texas Boy," we find that growing up is less about maturity and more about roping your dreams. Hold on tight. It's a bumpy ride. A wonderful read for anyone who enjoys books like "Little House on the Prairie" or "Tom Sawyer." A great bit of nostalgia for seniors, too.
Excerpt
No Angel
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. So goes an old saying. A boy with nothing much to do can sometimes find the worst possible things to escape boredom.
From what you've heard about me, you might come to the conclusion I was a well-behaved child. Well, I don’t mean to give you a false picture of what I’m really like. I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes I did stuff that was not exactly admired by my Ma and Pa. I wasn’t exactly the devil, but I weren’t no angel neither.
Ma and Pa liked to go to town, that bein’ Hereford, on Saturday nights. They’d visit friends and sometimes eat at the diner. They left me home to take care of my sister Dorothy. Generally, we behaved ourselves as we knew the consequences if we didn’t. One of them Saturdays, I was outside not doin’ much of anything. You know, just watchin’ the clouds and throwin’ rocks and so on.
I noticed a flock of blackbirds lit on Ma’s clothesline, so I went in and got the shotgun. I loaded it with smallshot and snuck around the side of the house so’s not to scare the birds. I figured I could get the whole flock of birds if I shot straight down the clothesline from one end to the other.
I had to be real quiet, so’s I thought I’d sneak up on ‘em like I was a Comanche. I got down on my belly and rested the shotgun across my arms. The grass was high enough so I’d not be seen. I dug in my elbows and pulled myself real slow around the corner of the house. When I got to the lilac bush, I got up behind it and checked if the birds had a notion I was there. They just sat on the line and didn’t even look my way, so I hunched over and ran lickety-split to the oak tree. From there, I was right at the end of the line and no more’n ten feet away.
I leaned around the tree trunk and eyed the line. Yep, I could see right down it. My hands aren’t big enough to span both triggers, so I have to pull them one at a time. I figured I’d shoot the first barrel and then real quick-like, fire off the second. That way, I’d get to hit the flock twice.
I eased the shotgun up to my shoulder and pulled back slow on the left-hand trigger. The first shot blasted off and knocked me back a few feet where I landed on my rear-end real hard. I still held the shotgun in my hands, but I wasn’t in any position to fire off the second barrel. When I sat up and looked to see how many birds I got, I was in for a shock. All that noise and not one feather to show for it. But Ma’s clothesline . . . now that’s a different story. The durn thing looked like a dead snake layin’ there.
I knew right away Ma would not be pleased with this.
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Buy or borrow the book to find out how Eddie survived this disaster.
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