The Norphlet Mafia

It's the summer of 1944 and Richard, the Norphlet Paperboy, John Clayton, and Ears are in one heck of a mess. Yeah, there was an 'accident' involving a small herd of 10 Chihuahuas, which has sent the whole state into an uproar, and the three boys are right in the middle of it. An attack by the Chihuahuas on Richard, the paperboy has left the brown, award-winning Chihuahuas with white spots, and as Richard will tell you, "It was all a danged accident, but we're in big trouble, and if lying won't get us off, then maybe the Norphlet Mafia is gonna hafta do something really, really bad. You know, like dognapping, or something so gross it will run the Little Rock private eye right out of town." It's all the the new novel from Richard Mason, The Norphlet Mafia. Order it from Amazon.com and read one of the funniest, wildest stories you can imagine. The Norphlet Mafia by Author Richard Mason

The Most Haunted Town in the USA

Imagine for a minute; a ghostly theater, a historic gunfight, a lawless oil boom, and a cast of scoundrels. Now add thirty brothels, characters such as H. L. Hunt—who got his start in Downtown El Dorado—some racy women, and finally sprinkle it all with gobs of money as a roaring 1920s oil boom swept over this little community of 3500 and blossomed it to 40,000 in 18 months. You’ll find an “OK Corral” gunfight, mules drowning in muddy streets, and yes, most importantly, you’ll find an old 1920s theater surrounding by numerous other old buildings.—and they’re all filled with spirits! Is Downtown El Dorado, Arkansas the most haunted town in the country? A new book by Author Richard Mason

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 9, post 11

“Dang you, Ears, if you don't stop yelling the whole town is gonna know what you did.” “Ahaaaa, don't say that, Richard! Y’all made me do it!” Peg stepped up, and hushed us down, and then he said, “Y’all settle down ‘cause I ain't told you the worst part.” “Huh?” Yeah, that sure got our attention. “Y’all just stay put, and let me finish. When Wing returned from delivering the dog to Mrs. Graves he was fit to be tied.” “Well, why on earth would that upset Marshal Wing?” I asked. “It’s what she told him, Richard. Mrs. Graves told Marshal Wing she has a nephew who’s a private investigator, and he is coming to Norphlet to investigate the Chihuahua dognapping and bleaching. According to Mrs. Graves, there will be arrests.” “Oh, my Lord, Peg... but why was Marshal Wing upset?” “Well, it's like Wing wasn’t doing his job, and it would take an outsider to solve the thing.” “Oh.” “Yeah, but there is one good thing. Wing ain’t gonna help, so you’ve just got some Little Rock private eye to dodge.” Gosh, we walked away from talking with Peg not really knowing what to do. Yeah, we’d all seen some movies about private eyes, and it was hard to see how an undercover private eye would work in Norphlet. But we were going to find out ‘cause about 1 o'clock an older-looking Ford pulled up in from of the City Café . Heck, we were just hanging around the breadbox down at Echols Grocery when he went into the cafe. “Come on guys, let’s head down to the Café, and have a Coke. I’ve got a feeling that may be the private eye.” “Are you crazy, Richard? We should be hiding out,” said Ears. “Naw, Ears, he doesn't have a clue who we are, and I want to hear how Bubba treats him. You know Bubba just asks everybody who comes all kinda of stuff. You tell me, how is an undercover private investigated gonna stay underground after being grilled by Bubba?” Yeah, Bubba, who is a little touched, if you know what I mean—like he’s a nickel short of a quarter—is the combination short order cook and waiter at the City Café. Well, to say Bubba gives the cafe a different look, would be an understatement. Bubba, who is about 6-foot-6 and weighs a good 280 pounds, was injured in an oilfield accident when the chain on the rig floor broke and whipped back hitting Bubba alongside his head. It looked like Bubba was a goner, but the doctors put a steel plate in his head and sewed him up. After about three weeks, Bubba sat up in bed and asked for a beer. It was just about the nearest thing to a miracle Norphlet has ever seen, but it did leave Bubba not quite right. Yeah, he walks kinda spraddle-legged and when he talks, it sounds like he has a mouth full of marbles. And that’s not all. Bubba sometimes starts shaking like a fish out of water, and somebody has got to whack him to get him to stop. Plus he’s been known to just spout off the most off-the-tree things. That’s why we wanted to listen in when Bubba gave forth to the undercover private investigator—who now wasn’t undercover, but he didn’t know it. That sounded real good to everybody, so we hightailed it over to the City Café, and took a table right beside where the private investigator was sitting. The stranger had just sat down, and Bubba really took notice. ’Course sometimes months pass between new customers, so when Bubba spotted what sure looked like someone from way out of town, he grabbed the menu and headed over to the man’s table. We were on the edge of our seats ’cause we knew the conversation was gonna be a real humdinger.

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 8, Post 10

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 7, post 9

Yeah, everything from confessing to running away crossed my mind, but I couldn't decide. I knew that real soon things were going to happen that were out of my hands. Mrs. Graves would report one of her dogs missing, and Marshal Wing would be on the case like a hen on a June bug. But I had to pull the trigger on Homer Ray. I didn’t have a choice. That was the only way to get the Marshal off the trail. It was about 9 o’clock when I finished my chores and got back downtown. I met John Clayton, and after he just went crazy when he saw all the little dog bites, we decided it couldn't be either one of us who told the Marshal about the Chihuahua in Homer Ray’s back yard. We had to take in another one of our friends to help. We picked Ears. We knew Homer Ray had really been bullying Ears, so we figured he was the one to tell Marshal Wing. Yeah, but we had to tell him the whole durn thing, and when he heard everything, he almost backed out. But finally, Ears said he’d do it. I figured things were just about to get totally out of hand, but what actually did happen was so over the top that it shocked me out of my ever-loving gourd. Chapter 7 Boomerang Dog Yeah, we had to walk along with Ears to be sure he actually went to see the Marshal, and he did. However, when he came out he was shaking so badly we could hardly understand him. Finally, he just yelled, “Oh, Richard, you shouldn't have dognappedd that little Chihuahua!” Marshal Wing started cussing up a storm, and he yelled that everybody who had anything to do with Mrs. Graves’s dogs was gonna get sent to Texarkana! John Clayton looked like he didn’t understand, and then Ears just yelled, “That's where the Arkansas Reform School is!” Well, it was getting real clear to me that we didn’t need to hang around downtown, and just wait on the Marshal to come grab us up. “Hey, I gotta go feed the chickens. Let’s all go home and maybe when Marshal Wing finds that little dog in Homer Ray’s back yard, it’ll throw things into such a mess they’ll forget about us.” Well, everybody thought that was a really good idea so we took off like scalded dogs. Heck, I was home in less than 10 minutes, and I didn’t even go inside to drop off my paper bag. I just went straight to the barn, picked up a bucket of ground-up corn, and headed for the chicken yard. Feeding the chickens is one of my chores, and I was late. Shoot, I wasn’t about to walk in the house and have the first question flung at me, like, “Richard, have you fed the chickens?” Well, I opened the gate and of course, the whole flock of chickens headed my way, but then I got another shocker-roo. The chickens just parted and a dang white-spotted Chihuahua came running toward me. “Ahaaaaaaaaa!”

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 6, post 8

Chapter 6 The Dognapper Okay, I’ll admit it. Everything I’d tried do just caused more of a problem. Now, I had another criminal charge against me, and what I was gonna do tomorrow would either let me dodge the bullet, or get me sent off to reform school. I had decided to pull off a dognapping. Yeah, that’s right. Real early tomorrow morning, I am gonna grab one of Mrs. Graves' little, white-spotted Chihuahuas and take off with it. Yeah, but I’m not going very far with a dognapped dog—just as far as Homer Ray'’ fenced-in back yard. Hah! And then, after Mrs. Graves goes just a little off her rocker, I’d have John Clayton tell the Marshal that he saw the dog in Homer Ray’s back yard. And if that that doesn’t get that kid arrested, I didn’t know what will. Well, since Mrs. Graves has 10 Chihuahuas, they have a big doghouse in her back yard that even has an electric fan in it, and in front of the doghouse there is a special little food and water dish. Shoot, that doghouse is really big, and each dog has its own little bed. Real early tomorrow morning I was going to sneak up, crawl in the doghouse, and snatch one of the sleeping dogs. Then I’d put it in a toe sack, and take off to Homer Ray’s fenced-in back yard. Heck, I figured the whole thing wouldn’t take 30 minutes. The next morning I set my alarm clock for 4 o’clock instead of 5, and about 10 minutes after 4, I was slipping along the street in front of Mrs. Graves’ house. I eased open the front gate, and slipped real quietly around to the side of the house. There was the big doghouse, and I’ll admit it, I started to wonder if dognapping was a good idea. But I figured I was too far along to quit, so I eased up to the door of the little house, got down on my knees, and started crawling in. Gosh, it was pitch black inside the doghouse, and it was so quiet I could hear little dogs breathing and kinda whimpering real softly. I started feeling along one side until I touched a sleeping dog. Okay, little dog, you’re coming with me, I thought. Everything went perfectly until I grabbed the sleeping dog and stuffed it into the tow sack. Then things started going crazy. First off, the dog I’d stuffed in the sack started barking, howling, and going nuts trying to get out of my sack. Shoot, that woke up the other nine Chihuahuas, and now it was me on my knees, dragging a sack with a going crazy dog in it while being attacked by a doghouse full of wild, nipping little dogs. Well, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but since it was midsummer all I had on were cut- off shorts—no shoes or shirt—and as I tried to crawl out of that doghouse nine of them danged dogs latched onto me like I figured dogs from hell might do. And if you don't think nine little dogs with only God knows now many teeth can really get after you, you’re crazy. Yeah, I tried not to yell real loud through my gritted teeth. I didn't want to wake up Mrs. Graves, and have her run out of the house and see that I just hauled off one of her dogs in a tow sack, but I couldn’t hold everything back, so I yelled muffled through gritted teeth. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Oh, oh, Ahaaaa, oh, Uh un Ahaaaa, my ear!” My gosh it seemed like it took an hour to crawl out of that doghouse, ‘cause about every foot I crawled, I’d have to stop and knock off dogs. It was something else, and I knew right then, if I died and went to hell, it would be full of the same dogs, but it would be really hot. I almost shouted when I got out and could stand up, but I was still hanging on to the toe sack with the dog in it. Now, I had to fight my way out of the back yard, which was jump, kick, and run… but I made it. Yeah, it had gone really bad, but I had managed to get the gate open and, boy, did I turn on the gas as I ran down the street chased by nine Chihuahuas. ’Course, they gave up after about 50 yards, so I limped along headed for Homer Ray’s house. Shoot, I was really glad to let that dog loose in his back yard, and head to the newsstand to pick up my papers. I was just about on time for my paper route, and for the first time since I rolled out of bed, I felt like taking a deep breath. Doc had just cut the strap on the bundle of Shreveport Times papers when I walked into the newsstand. He looked up, and then took a long look at me. “My God, Richard what happened to you?” “Huh?” “You have little red spots all over you. They look like bites of some kind.” I looked at my arms and legs, and, yeah, the dang, sorry dog’s teeth had left little red marks. None of the bites were deep enough to bleed, but it looked like I had really been in a dog and boy fight---and lost. Heck my mind was just whirling ’cause the last thing I was gonna tell Doc was that I had been crawling around in a doghouse full of nipping Chihuahuas. “Uh, well let’s see...” Then I thought of something. “Oh, yeah, Doc, me and John Clayton went fishing yesterday down at Flat Creek and the mosquitoes were terrible. Just gray swarms, and I have nearly scratched myself to death.” Well, I’m not sure Doc really believed me, but it was enough of an excuse to make it out of the newsstand. You bet I was upset, and as I walked along throwing papers, thoughts just kept flashing through. Why, did I do something so stupid? I should have confessed... now I have John Clayton all messed up, and when it’s all over we’re a cinch to be hauled off to reform school... what can I do? What? What?

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 5 Post 7

And you know something? That sorry kid has bullied nearly every smaller kid in school, and if there ever was a kid in school that was hated worse, and deserved this, I have never heard of him. Well, Homer Ray had to kind of push his way through the folks standing out in front of the Marshal’s office, and when he was almost to the door, a reporter from the El Dorado Daily News stepped in front of him and took his picture. It was time to boo, and me and John Clayton just poured it on, followed by Ears and Tiny, and then a bunch of other kids as I shouted, “Why’d you do it, Homer Ray?” And John Clayton yelled, “Dog killer!” I screamed out, “Let’s get that dog killer!” And, shoot, you wouldn’t believe it, but when me and John Clayton kinda rushed Homer Ray, a bunch of other kids followed us, and one of them grabbed Homer Ray’s shirt and pulled him back in the crowd. Okay, maybe we did whack him a few times, since he was the school bully, and yeah, it got pretty wild. Finally we acted like we were gonna haul the sorry kid off, and some of the adults started yelling for the Marshal, who had to come out and shoot his gun up in the air. About that time, the reporter for the El Dorado Daily News flashed another picture for the paper, and it crossed my mind, Well, that should take some heat off me. Me and John Clayton walked back to the breadbox at Echols Grocery, where we leaned back and talked about the grilling Homer Ray was getting. Well, I went home that night thinking that maybe that rat Homer Ray was gonna what was coming to him, even though it was kinda sneaky. And the next morning when I got to the newsstand Doc was holding up the El Dorado News-Times. Wow, there was a picture of Homer Ray on the cover with “Suspect Questioned in Chihuahua Bleach Investigation.” And then there was another picture of a bunch of boys trying to beat-up on Homer Ray. The headline over that picture was: “Boys Riot to Grab Suspect.” There was John Clayton taking a punch at Homer Ray, with me and a couple of other boys pulling at him. I figured all of that might just take care of all my Chihuahua problems. “Doc, I’m sure glad they caught that sorry kid.” “Well Richard, the paper said he was just being questioned, and Marshal Wing told me it was because his house didn't have a bleach bottle beside it. You know whoever put out all those bleach bottle s is gonna be in big trouble if the Marshal ever catches them. He said they’d be charged with obstructing a police investigation, and that would make it two felonies.” That was way more than I wanted to hear, so a grabbed my paper bag and took off. Of course, I was thinking about the whole mess, which was getting messier every day. Now there was another charge out there on the person—me—for putting out all those bleach bottles. But I was hoping Marshal Wing would keep after Homer Ray, and maybe Homer Ray wouldn’t have a good excuse. Well, the route went about like always, but when I got back to the newsstand there was another surprise. Marshal Wing was there talking to Doc. Yeah, I stopped breathing, but I did managed to squeeze out a “Hi, Marshal Wing.” Have you ever had someone act really nice, but you knew they were prying into stuff? You know, kinda throwing out questions like, “Richard, did you happen to see those poor. little, white-spotted dogs when you passed Mrs. Graves’ house this morning?” Well, that sounds like a very simple question, but what was I going to say? I sure wasn't going to tell the Marshal that when the dogs saw me they howled and ran under the porch. So I lied. “Yes, Marshal, I always stop to pet those sweet, little puppies, and sometimes I’ll bring them dog biscuits.” Yep, they ain’t many things I’m really good at, but lying just comes naturally, rolling off my tongue about every time I open my mouth. Uh huh, that little lie kinda set the Marshal back ‘cause I seemed like the top Norphlet Chihuahua lover. Then, since I was on a roll, I said, “Have you locked up that sorry Homer Ray?” But then things changed when the Marshal said, “No, Homer Ray was in El Dorado staying with his aunt most of the time the dogs were sprayed. He’s not a good suspect anymore, but maybe you can help me find the boy who attacked those dogs.” Well, I didn’t have a clue how I could help, since I was the kid, so I said, “Sure Marshal, just tell me how I can help.” Marshal Wing reached in his back pocket and pulled out a red water pistol—my red water pistol. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! just kept ricocheting through my mind. How did he get my water pistol? “Take a good look at this water pistol, Richard. I just happen to cross the railroad tracks in front of my office, and I saw it lying there, and it still has some of the bleach water in it. Have you seen any of the boys about your age with this water pistol?” More sweat popped out on my forehead, and just the sight of that danged gun of mine sent a shiver up my back like what you might feel if you were strapped in the electric chair up at State Prison. It was hard to get that next lie out of my mouth, but even I surprised myself. “It does look kinda familiar, Marshal. I think it looks like the one an El Dorado kid was using last Saturday at the Ritz Theatre.” I could tell Marshal Wing didn’t like that last answer. He shook his head and said, “Well, if you think of any Norphlet boys, you saw with this gun, let me know.” “Sure, Marshal.” Well, that was all the questions and in a few minutes, he left the newsstand. Gosh, I sure came away from that little talk with the idea that Marshal Wing had me close to the top of his list of suspects. I was going to get nailed if I didn't throw him off the trail: so I came up with another plan.

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 5, post 6

Chapter 5 Trying to Dodge the Bullet Okay, I’m not the sharpest kid in town, but I knew one thing for dang sure. I had to do something to keep from gettin’ nailed. Heck, Marshall Wing is really a whiz at figuring out who did something around Norphlet, and I kinda figured he had a list of boys who might have squirted the Chihuahuas, and I didn’t have any doubt that I was on the list—probably close to the top. Yep, my mind was just a clicking about what I could do before I was called into the Marshal's office. Then, while I was running my paper route the next day, I just happened to see an empty bleach bottle lying in the ditch. Ha, probably put there by the kid who squirted the dogs, I thought, and then I laughed ’cause I knew the Chihuahuas’ bleach came from my momma’s bottle, and it was still on the shelf at home. But a “what if” just hit me like a sack of rocks. Get a bunch of bleach bottles and put them by a lot of kids’ houses that might be on the Marshal’s list. Wow, I couldn't wait to hightail it to the dump and haul back a tow-sack full of bleach bottles. That night I went through town and put empty bleach bottles at the houses of somewhere around 20 kids. I even put one in the ditch in front of my house. However, I did miss one kid’s house: the home of Homer Ray, the school bully. I knew for durn sure Marshal Wing would be out snooping around, and he’d hafta be blind not to see all those bottles. & Well, I guess the Marshal did his snooping early the next morning ’cause when I finished my paper route the next morning at about 8, he'd already been by Doc’s. Gosh, according to Doc, who’s a good friend of the Marshal’s, Marshal Wing was just all out of sorts, and he was just going on and on about how somebody had planted bleach bottles by every kid’s house in town.... but one. And he didn’t know what to make of that, but he was gonna ask that kid with no bleach bottles a lot of questions. Naw, the Marshal didn’t name the kid, but I knew it was Homer Ray. Okay, so just finding no bleach bottle was going to help, but I needed to do a lot more. It was time to plan more trouble for Homer Ray. He dang sure deserved it. Shoot, Norphlet is a little town, and when the Marshal sent for Homer Ray to come in for questioning, it flew all over town ’cause Marshal Wing called on a party line. And when the bully showed up at the Marshal’s office that afternoon there was a pretty good crowd. I had rounded up a good group of boys, and I was dead sure that every kid there hated Homer Ray’s guts. Since John Clayton is my best friend, I had told him about having to squirt bleach on the sorry dogs. Yeah, he thought I did the right thing, and now since he knew about it, we were in this mess together. We were standing there waiting for Homer Ray to come to the Marshal’s office when I whispered to John Clayton, who was standing right beside me, “Ease over to where Ears and Tiny are standing and tell them and the other boys around them to just start booing and just go crazy when Homer Ray walks up.” Heck, in about two minutes, all the boys were grinning like possums eating green persimmons, and I knew what was about to happen might not be enough to nail—or, I guess say frame—the sorry kid, but it would really put a big question mark in everybody’s mind.

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 4, post 5

Chapter 4 More Danged Trouble Okay, now I know things are sounding kinda bad. You know, like I’m a kid John Dillinger. But you’d be wrong. I have three-year Royal Ambassador Perfect Attendance pin from First Baptist, and never ever have I swiped anything from Doc, even though he pays me hardly nothing for delivering those sorry papers. And what actually happened was me trying to keep from getting eaten up, and I just thought the watery bleach would just smell up the dogs. Who would have ever thought it would cause all those white spots? So I’m innocent as Jesus… Uh well maybe not quite that innocent, but I really didn’t mean to mess up those dogs, even though I said I would pull the switch if that momma dog was strapped in the electric chair. And it did bother me a bunch that Mrs. Graves was going to lose money because so something I did. I know what you’re thinking: If you’re so innocent why, don’t you just confess and tell folks what really happened? Listen up, and I’ll tell you why... “Yes, your Honor, I was just defending myself against flesh eating… Uh, Uh, Chihuahuas.” Yeah, that really don’t sound all that good does it, and I can just hear that judge: “Guard, put this juvenile delinquent on the next bus to reform school!” That’s why I’m not about to confess, and I’m really worried about where that water pistol went. Okay, what I’m thinking is just to act like I’m really upset that someone in my hometown of Norphlet would do such a terrible thing, and just about everybody I talked to would get from me, “That's sure a terrible thing about Mrs. Graves’ little dogs.” Actually, I was thinking, I sure wish it had been some kill-you-dead-as-a-sack-of-hammers poison. You guessed it: I think the only good Chihuahuas are underground ones—you know dead ’uns. But nobody, nobody—well except John Clayton and Ears—will ever know I pulled the trigger on that water pistol. Anyway, things were pretty quiet for a couple of days, but then another shocker-roo: I popped into the newsstand right on time, which I had started doing after ‘the Chihuahua problem” showed up in the local paper. But that morning when I picked up the papers Doc yelled, “Richard, Norphlet made the front page of the Arkansas Gazette… look!” Well, the Gazette is a Little Rock paper and it goes all over the state. Norphlet has never been on the front page. When I took a look and saw Chihuahuas, with tiny white spots on them, little drops of sweat popped out on my forehead, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. Not only that, but folks from all over the state had commented in a little side section of the paper. And then to top it off in big black letters the Governor had said, “I’m sure the attack was made by someone just traveling through. None of our citizens would do such a dastardly thing.” Yeah, and while I was swallowing my tongue Doc was just going on and on. “And Richard, Marshal Wing stopped by here earlier, and said the weapon had been found, and he expects he'll be arresting someone soon. He said the attempted murder weapon was a water pistol, and it still had some of the bleach water in it.” Okay, I couldn’t just scream “No! No!” but my first thoughts were to hightail it out of town, and live in the woods eating crawfish and berries for about 10 years... you know, until the whole thing blew over. But then I thought, No, just say something like “good”. They can’t prove it’s your water pistol. Dodge the dang bullet! Lie, lie lie! “That's wonderful, Doc. I hope they put that guy… Uh, wait a minute, Doc, it might be a woman or girl.” Yeah, that’s real good. Throw a log in the road. “What?” “Yeah, Doc, they really don’t know if it was a boy, girl, or an adult. Shoot, some of those eighth-grade girls are means as snakes.” “Richard, it was a damned water pistol! Only a boy would have a water pistol.” “I'm not so sure about that, Doc. I know a lot of girls who have water pistols, and they’re always squirting boys in the Ritz.” “It was some punk kid, Richard… a boy! And in this little town, where everybody knows everybody, that kid ain’t got a chance!” Yeah, now I know how one of the old Roman fighters felt standing there holding pointed sticks just as they pulled open a gate and let out about 20 lions. Maybe I ain’t got a chance, but by gollee, I’m gonna go down lying, crossed my mind.

The Norphlet Mafia, Chapter 3, post 4

Chapter 3 Big Trouble Well, the next day I got a shocker-roo. I was about my 20 minutes late to start my paper route, and I was trying to think up a good excuse for being late. No excuse equals a 50-cent deduction from my route money. Yeah, I had about decided to go with our two mules getting out, and I had to help daddy catch them. I stepped in the newsstand, and was just about to start my little white lie when Doc held up an El Dorado Daily News. I took one glance and just gasped. Oh, my God!, I thought. There was a picture of all 10 little dogs on the front page, and there was poor Mrs. Graves looking like the saddest person in the world. I would have screamed if I hadn’t been standing there in front of Doc. “Look at this newspaper, Richard! My God, some crazy person sprayed Mrs. Graves’s little show dog Chihuahuas with bleach! Look at these poor little dogs! I’d sure hate to be the person who did this. Those dogs were worth several hundred dollars, and now they ain’t worth a dime. And whoever sprayed those dogs with bleach committed a felony. A felony will get you put in jail.” I know I must have turned white as a ghost, because I wasn’t breathing, and when I took a second glance at the paper, and saw all those brown dogs that were now white-spotted, I almost dropped over into a duck-dying fit. Of course, Doc wasn’t paying me much attention. He was just mouthing on and on about what sorry person would do that to poor little dogs, and according to Doc, just break old Mrs. Graves’ heart. Yeah, I felt really bad until I thought about one of those dang dogs’ teeth digging into my ankle. Did I think about confessing? Naw. That was the very last thing on my mind, and if I was honest, it wasn’t even on the list. My list was one thing: Dodge the bullet. So I just started rattling a lie. “Doc, that is just about the worse thing I have ever heard of. I sure hope they catch the sorry person who did that to those poor little dogs” “Well, Richard, Marshal Wing came by here late yesterday, and he said the best he could make out the person who sprayed bleach on those poor dogs must have used something that squirted the bleach. That’s the best clue he has, and he’s interviewing everybody who could have seen anything.” Well, while Doc was talking I had put my paper bag on, and when he said “squirted” I nearly crushed my water pistol, which was in the bag. Gotta get rid of this danged water pistol! I thought. And right then I knew that water pistol wasn’t long for this world. Shoot, as soon as I got out of the newsstand, I headed north across Front Street, and when I came to the railroad tracks, I placed the water pistol right on one of the rails. “The MoPac will take care of that danged water pistol in about 20 minutes,” I kinda mumbled. Heck, I was so nervous, I started running the paper route, and when I burst through the newsstand door Doc was shocked. “Richard, you couldn’t have finished the route. What did you do with the papers?” “I didn’t miss a house, Doc. For some reason I had a lot of energy.” “Well, boy, if you can run the route that fast, I’m paying you too much.” “Naw, Doc. Remember the Sunday papers are so heavy they take twice as long. Maybe I should get paid double for Sundays.” “Get outta here, Richard.” Well, I felt a lot better knowing the MoPac had taken care of that water pistol. Then I had a thought: Go look at the pieces. Shoot, I took off running and in a couple of minutes, I was standing beside the rail where I had placed the gun. “Hummmm, where are the pieces?” I muttered. Yeah, at first, I thought the train had just crushed the pistol to dust, but then I thought, no, that couldn't happen, but there wasn’t a trace of the pistol. “Oh, my gosh! Where’s that danged, red water pistol?” I yelled

The Norphlet Mafia post 3 chapter 2

Chapter 2 More Barks, Woofs, and Little Sharp Teeth I still can’t believe I was nearly killed and eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs, and Rosalie got upset about me whacking that crazy bunch. And later it didn’t help any when I told her I wanted to send that sorry momma dog to the electric chair. Well, I wish that had been all of the Chihuahua problem, but it wasn’t near over. No sir-ree bobtail. You see that was only the little rascals’ first attack. The little dogs may have looked like worthless, stupid rats, but they’re really smart. Heck, after they found out the bottom rail of the gate was high enough for them to get under, doing my paper route was like running through one of the minefields you see at the movies. Yeah, they figured out exactly when I would be by their house every morning, and look out! After a couple of mornings, I tried to sneak by, but they had a Scout Dog who just went crazy when it saw me, and in seconds they were dogs everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Instead of coming straight at me, they circled right out of paper-swatting range, and as soon as my back was turned, one of the little devils would dash in and nip my ankle. Un huh, Chihuahuas might be smart, but I’m a top, smart Norphlet paperboy... Uh, well, yeah, I know I am the only Norphlet paperboy, but I’ve got some smarts, too. Well, the first thing I did was stop by Mrs. Graves’ house to tell her to fix her gate where her dogs couldn’t get out. I waited until I saw her outside working in her flowerbed. I figured she would be able to call off her dogs if they attacked, so I walked up to the fence where she was working and started talking. “Mrs. Graves?” “Oh, hi Richard. Is it time to pay my paper bill?” “Uh, well no ma’am. I just wanted to tell you your dogs can get out by going under the gate. I wouldn’t want one of them to get runned over,” I lied. “Well thank you, Richard, but I don’t think my sweet little darlings would ever leave my yard.” “Yes, ma’am, they can. The other morning they all got out and chased me down the street.” “Oh, Richard, I can’t believe my precious little pets would ever do such a thing. Come around to the gate. I want you to meet my family.” Yeah, the last thing on earth I wanted to do was to meet those vicious mutts, so I kinda hesitated, and said, “Well, I don’t want to upset them. They don’t know me.” “Richard, they are the friendliest dogs you’ll ever see. Come here and let me introduce you.” I figured, when I opened that gate, dogs would be all over me, so I just eased in ready to zip out when they attacked... but they didn’t. And then Mrs. Graves went into this long introduction: Princess Leah was the momma dog, and the rest were Snow White and the seven dwarfs plus an older dog named Prince Charming. Well, that bunch of dogs was really showing off. Shoot, they came up to me like I was their long-lost friend, and Mrs. Graves was just beaming about how sweet they were. She walked out of the yard and closed the gate behind her, and started calling her “little friends.” Yeah, I figured the whole bunch would run under the gate, and I could say, “That's what happened, Mrs. Graves.” But they didn’t. In fact the mutts kinda faked it like they couldn’t get out, and old Mrs. Graves nodded like I had just accused one of her children of murder, and the judge had said, “Not guilty.” But just as I was about to leave, the momma dog gave a little woof, and when I looked at her, she bared her teeth. Right then and there I knew those dogs might be ugly and mean, but they were smart, too, and the next day it was gonna be “Katy bar the door.” I had to come up with an anti-dog plan, or those mutts were gonna be all over me every morning. Yeah, I always carry my slingshot, but I knew that one rock would kill one of those little, rat dogs dead as a sack of hammers. I just couldn't do that to Mrs. Graves. However, something else came to mind, and the next morning I was ready. Sure enough, the Scout Dog sounded the alarm, and a small herd of Chihuahuas charged me. Well, I just calmly reached in my paper bag and pulled out my pistol—my water pistol. But it wasn't just a plain water pistol. I had loaded it with water and a little bit of Momma’s bleach—just enough to kinda smell and make the danged dogs back off. I just stood there until that sorry momma dog was about 5 feet from me, and then... zap. A stream of watery bleach hit that sorry dog, and the next several squirts nailed the rest of the worthless mutts. Heck, I was having so much fun, I just poured it on until every whining dog had made it back under the gate. No kidding, I’ve seen some really funny things, but when that bleach water hit them it was like they’d run into a stone wall. Shoot, they were spinning those little dog paws like nothing you have ever seen trying to get themselves in reverse. Yeah, that took care of the Chihuahua problem. Or at least I thought it did until the next morning when I noticed something: Everywhere the bleach had hit one of those brown dogs, it had turned the fur white. Those little dogs now looked like baby Dalmatians with white spots all over them. And that was big trouble, ’cause Mrs. Graves’s Chihuahuas are show dogs. I also had found out that she sells the puppies, and white-spotted brown fur probably would get counted off a bunch of points, and lower the price. Heck, I put it in high gear, and took off. My lips were sealed ’cause I knew just trying to keep from getting eaten alive by those danged worthless dogs was really gonna cause a big stink in Norphlet. I was in really big trouble... if the bleach job got pinned on me.