Hank the Cowdog and Monkey Business by John R. Erickson

Author:John R. Erickson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Hank the Cowdog
ISBN: 9780141303901
Publisher: Puffin
Published: 1990-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight: The Pasha of Shizzam

It was, to say the least, a bittersweet dream, which sort of describes the way things have gone with Beulah from the very beginning. If that bird dog would just go away . . . oh well. I don’t want to get started on Plato.

Except to say that any dog who chases birds can’t be very smart, and any woman who chases bird dogs, when she could have a brave, magnificent Great Grand Potentate cowdog for the same price, is walking the fine line between poor taste and terrible judgment.

But I don’t want to get started on that. There’s no rational explanation for it, that’s what torques me about the whole thing. I mean, is there anything dumber or less significant than pointing birds? Who cares about birds? If you’re going to point something, point something that matters. That’s what I always say.

But never mind. I can’t be bothered . . . what is it about that stupid, spotted, stick-tailed bird dog that holds her interest day after day, week after week, and month after month? It’s outrageous.

But the important point to remember in all this is that I really don’t care. There are other women in the world, hundreds of them, thousands of them, and if she wants to go chasing after a stupid . . . phooey!

Nevertheless, it was a wonderful dream, in a painful sort of way, and I wouldn’t have minded running it over and over through the entire afternoon and into the evening hours. But that wasn’t to be. Drover, the little dunce, began pulling my ears.

When I felt the first tug at my left ear, I growled, pretty muchly on instinct, and told him, “Drover, you’re dlvkskdi bchslek vksl.”

“That wasn’t me, Hank. You’d better wake up and see . . .”

“And you’d better zvlsckelf b’aldke mfkd ake zzzzzz.”

“Hank, get up. Somebody’s here.”

“Of course somebody’zzzzzz snort wheeze here, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking to each other.”

“No, I mean somebody else.”

“Tell ’em I’m busy. Tell ’em I died three weeks ago. Tell ’em . . .” He pulled my ear again. “Tell ’em that if you pull my ear again, you nincompoop, I’m going to build a mudhole in the middle of your face!”

He pulled it again. That did it. My eyelids sprang open, and once my eyeballs quit rolling around and locked in on the target, I saw . . .

HUH?

. . . this face, see: Two big eyes, short nose, a broad grinning mouth, jug ears, red jacket, and a red fez on top of its head. Drover didn’t wear a red fez. Or have jug ears. Or a short nose.

“Drover, I don’t want to alarm you, but something has happened to your face. All at once it has begun to resemble a . . .”

“A monkey, Hank?”

“Exactly. All these years you’ve acted like a monkey, and now the chickens have come home . . . Drover, is there something we need to discuss?”

“Yeah. I think your monkey’s got some business on his mind.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.