The Norphlet Mafia post # 2 Chapter one

They were snapping at my ankles, and then it got real serious-you know, like when two rows of little teeth clamp down on my bare foot. I yelled like bloody murder, and then I thought maybe those danged dogs were like a bunch of them fish from South America, which are about the size of a big sunfish but have sharp teeth just like Chihuahuas. And those fish will plum eat you up. I guess right about then was when it got serious as I felt two more sets of little teeth clamp down on my leg. Wow, I hollered like a stuck pig and kicked one of those danged dogs like a football. That was a stupid thing to do ’cause it was like blood in the water. Heck, it was the momma dog, and she howled like she was dying—’course she wasn’t, ’cause she just rolled a few times—and then all 10- of them worthless dogs came after me with blood in their eyes. (Guess they didn’t like me kicking their momma.) Wow, suddenly those danged little dogs were everywhere, and little teeth were snapping at my ankles. And about that time one of them tied onto my bare big toe. Those worthless, little rat dogs were howling like a pack of super, tiny wolves, and that’s when I started doing what I later called my Chihuahua Dance. It goes jump, kick, jump. Shoot, it was getting real serious and I started thinking, What if I fell down and the whole pack jumped right on top of me and cleaned my bones like those South American fish do? Heck, the headlines in the newspaper would be terrible: Norphlet Paperboy Killed and Eaten by Chihuahuas. That would really upset my momma and daddy, and Rosalie would probably never speak to me again, Uh, yeah, that’s right, since I'd just be a pile of white bones. So right then and there, I decided to hightail on down the street, skipping and jumping and doing the Chihuahua Dance to keep from being nipped to death. But it wasn’t all that easy. You see, if a dog gets after you, the worst thing you can do is take off running. That’s right; ’cause the dog, or in this case dogs, will think they’ve got you whipped, and when they catch you, you’ll be dog meat. Anyway, after a couple of hops and a rabbit like jump, I broke out of the circle and started to hightail it out of there. But, look out, the momma dog made a leap at me, grabbed my paper bag and hung on. Well, I could still run pretty good even with a Chihuahua hanging on my paper bag, but before I could really get going another one grabbed my pants leg, and a second one latched onto my paper bag. Yeah, right then, I remembered seeing a Tarzan picture show down at the Ritz Theatre where a whole pack of lions jumped this huge water buffalo, and the lions kept piling on until that water buffalo went down in a pile of hungry lions. Naw, I wasn’t about to be a buffalo, so I went to really loud screaming and hop-kicking. “Ahaaaaaaa! Get! Get! Yhaaaaaa! Get!” Naw, I wasn't just yelling, I was kicking and jumping like a wild boy, and I managed to push the two sorry dogs that were hanging onto my paper bag into a mailbox pole.“Hope that broke y’all’s sorry necks!” I yelled, slapping the other dog who was hanging on my pants leg until it turned loose. Shoot, I really turned it on then, but they had me on the run, and I jumped and skipped down the street with that pack of little dogs nipping at my heels. It wouldn’t have been so bad, I guess, if that was all there was to it. But, no, not on your life. Right down the street from the Chihuahuas’ house lives Rosalie, and you might know, her daddy had just sent her out to get the paper when I came skipping by chased by 10 snapping, snarling little dogs. Plus, I was still trying to throw papers, which was danged hard to do, since I had to throw on one foot and slap off dogs with the other hand. Yeah, she laughed. Uh, huh, so hard she had to hang onto the gate. ’Course, I stopped ’cause I looked like such a idiot—and wouldn’t you know it, one of them danged dogs latched on to my foot, and I now I was hopping around swinging a little dumb dog and yelling like a panther had a-holt of me. Shoot, I finally got that dog to turn loose, and then suddenly I remembered something: Dogs are scared of a rolled-up paper. Boy, I grabbed one of the papers out of my bag, rolled it up, and scattered dogs like nothing you’ve ever seen. “Ahaaa! Take that that you sorry little dogs! Whoooo! Get ’em!" I swung that rolled-up paper around and then finally I chased the whole lot back down the street, swatting at dogs right and left. Well, evidently, that was another dumb move ’cause Rosalie started yelling at me for beating up on a bunch of poor little dogs. “Richard, you made that tiny little dog whine! You should be ashamed of yourself!” “ Rosalie, those dogs bit me four times and nearly brought blood.” “A 13-year-old boy picking on little dogs! You are a bad person!” And with that Rosalie turned up her nose and walked back into her house. And you know something? She actually really did turn up her nose. See, I told y’all that paperboys have some bad stuff happen, but that wasn’t near all of the Chihuahua problem. After those sorry dogs figured out how to get under the gate, they were there every morning, and it was like running down a nipping, biting sidewalk. And the more I got after them the more they went after me. I had to do something, but outside of murder, I couldn’t think of a thing.