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.