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The Serb Dog by Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
There was a bunch of soldiers standing around watching
a house burn and somebody said "Was that somebody screaming,
did you hear somebody scream?"
"Shut up idiot," said the lieutenant. "You don't want
the Serbs to have anything when they get here do you?" He
was from Dodge City and some of the other guys called him
Cowboy. Most of them had joined the unit in Naples and this
was their first assignment in what used to be Yugoslavia.
Now it was Hell.
They could hear faint gunshots coming from over the
hill and everyone knew time was running out. Around the
corner a bunch of people was being herded out of town but
not everyone wanted to leave. They could hear some of the
older peoples voices pleading not to be put on a bus, but
nobody knew what else to do. The children only cried and
some of the soldiers tried not to think about the children
crying. Finally they heard the bus door slam shut and the
sound of the engine as it roared into movement then
gradually the sound disappeared behind the distant gunfire.
"I heard they signed today," said one of the soldiers.
"Did you hear,
lieutenant, about them signing a ceasefire?"
"Let them sign," replied the lieutenant "I will sign,
too. Torch that house over there. Who cares about another
"Why didn't you join the Croats, Cowboy? What ever made
a nicefellow like you sign on with us cut throats?" Everybody
snickered but Cowboy got over being irritated by their
remarks the first week.
"They didn't offer enough money," he snapped.
Suddenly a dog came running down the road and one of the
soldiers said "Get that damned dog!" Everybody started
shooting at the same time and the dog started running and
jumping and yapping all at the same time then disappeared
behind a house.
"That's one lucky dog!" somebody said.
A captain came running up and said "Why were you guys
shooting at that dog?"
One of the soldeirs said "It was a Serb dog." Somebody
else said "It was in heat!"
"Well don't shoot no more dogs," said the captain.
Then the dog stuck its head out and a shot came from across
the road, shattering the stone building right next to the
dogs head. The dog let out a yelp and started running down
the road, away from the soldiers.
"Look at that dog run!" shouted the captain. "Don't
anybody shoot! I like that dog! Run Dog! Run Dog! Don't
let them shoot you!"
Just then a volley of gunfire echoed from behind
the buldings and bullets could be seen hitting the ground
all around the running dog, then some bullets struck the
dog and it fell over without a sound. Some other soldiers
came around from behind the buildings across the street
from where the dog had been and they were laughing.
"That was my dog!" yelled the captain to the other
"That was your dog?" asked one of the men.
"Yes, I said so!" repled the captain. "Didn't I just
tell you it was my dog?"
"You just killed our dog!" snapped the lieutenant.
"We thought it was a Serb dog," the soldier said. "How
could we tell it was your dog?"
"Well, you be careful about shooting dogs from now
on!" snapped the lieutenant. "Good dogs are hard to find
"That dog was rabid!" laughed one of the soldiers
who shot the dog.
"That dog was in heat!" laughed a soldier in the
"That dog is dead!" said another guy. Everybody
"Get back to torching those houses," said the
Suddenly they heard the dog yelping and when they
looked down the road they saw it running again. Everybody
started screaming and shooting at once and the dog
disappeared into a bunch of bushes just as some bullets hit
the dirt all around it.
"That's the luckiest damned dog I ever saw!" said
"Guess it wasn't a Serb dog after all," laughed
"Guess not," said a soldier. "No Serb dog could be
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Oklahoma cowboy, tough coal miner’s son
Born in Henryetta, south of Tulsa some
Raised by daddy’s momma, taught him wrong from right
Daddy taught him ropin’, taught him how to fight
Herding made no money, its stock was really down
Mamaw feeling poorly, dad mining at Old Town
Seventeenth of December, in the year of twenty-nine
Dad was shoring timber, 9th west entry of the mine
The gas ignited close to him, he never smelt its breath
It belched fire and thunder, and everlasting death
Sixty-one they counted, who wouldn’t see the sun
Twenty-five weren't recognized, they buried them as one
On that fatal Tuesday, the boy became a man
Had to make a living, had to have a plan
Heard about the oil patch, got a chance to try it
Drill the earth for all she’s worth; just keep it turnin' to the right
Some they called him weevil, some they called him worm
Some they wouldn't speak to him, figgered he was just short term
They told him "Open up that vee door; go to get the key
It's in the possum belly, in doghouse number three"
Took his turns at floor hand, at first a little green
Became the fastest broke out hand the driller ever seen
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
The driller called him partner; the pusher called him son
The other roughnecks shook his hand, and took him in as one
Got up on the monkeyboard; learned to spin the chain
Pumped that mud and shed his blood, and worked right through the pain
On a bitter frosty evening tour, in a cold December snow
He saw derricks lit like Christmas trees in the distance far below
He saw the fairyland of the refinery, shining through the night
He saw Mother Earth and the universe, all turning to the right
He got a job as driller, to West Texas he would go
A boomtown named McCamey, southwest of Angelo
Hired a shack from Pansy, put money in the bank
Drove his pickup out of town, seen the million barrel tank
The oil patch was a hard life, moving all the time
But he saved a lot of money, didn't waste a dime
Morning tour, evening tour, working day and night
Drilled the earth for all she's worth, kept it turnin' to the right
Sent his kids to college, working through the years
One became a teacher, the others engineers
He hung up his hardhat; he shed his steel-toed shoes
Then one day he passed away; he'd finally paid his dues
Made it to the Pearly Gates; they handed him his wings
Handed 'em right back to them; said "I don't need these things.
I want to do some drilling. That's my heavenly plan."
They said "Go talk to the Devil then, cause he's the company man."
Old Scratch needed hellfire; he always come up short
Too many bankers and lawyers and others of that sort
When he heard they had a driller, he jumped up with delight
He danced a jig, "You've got your rig. Keep it turnin' to the right."
Now he drills for hellfire; in the derrick he's got Jake
Buck and Sam on the platform; Sonny's on the brake
They all grin like demons; they're all where they belong
Doing what they love to do, they sing their roughneck song
"We all eat caliche and sniff the devil's brew
Play dominos with Satan and whip him at forty-two
Work all day on Sunday and honky-tonk all night
We're oilfield trash and we'll take cash to keep it turnin' to the right
We all love West Texas; it's like the Promised Land
Horny toads and rocky roads, and even dunes of sand
Dust storms every morning, northers every night
We get tans and freeze our cans to keep it turnin' to the right"
The lingo used around the rig you won't hear much in church
It'll curl your hair and make you stare and leave you in the lurch
So close your eyes and realize it's gonna get much worse
Drink your beers and plug your ears; here comes the final verse
"We p*ss Dr. Pepper; we f*art Frito pie
Give us ****, and we will spit some Red Man in your eye
Don't **** with us, or we will cuss and bring you to the fight
We're low class, but we kick *** to keep it turning to the right"
Click "About this poem" above the title to see the notes.
History's Sad Song (Revised)
throughout my life
I've heard many a sad song
relating to the lyrics
that seemed to play too long
way back during the Crusade
where religious debt was paid
by the bloodlust of so many
could not ye God spare any
as hundreds of thousands died
over manmade religious pride
these wars continue today
justified by words we pray
Oh, when the saints go marching in
....(Sang by the Kingston Trio)
they hailed from every nation
to defy the written proclamation
prohibiting ownership of God's creation
many fought with such bravery
to continue the practice of slavery
another man's misery
has always been the key
for the powers that be
and who cares about equality
when Kingdoms can be built for free
A Change Is Gonna Come
but as I study history
one thing has occurred to me
there really isn't any change
Hitlers, just go by different names
as we remember the Holocaust
Sodom and Gomorrah was never lost
but found within the soul of man
burnt crisp, the devil's plan
Momma's Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys - Waylon Jennings
everybody's got a gun
buying ammo by the ton
myths of old western days
seem like broadway plays
acted out in the streets
a daily performance society repeats
gunsmoke, and the ponderosa
replaced by La Costra Nostra
"Wake Up Everybody"
by Harold Melvin and The Bluenotes
John F. Kennedy died
a shocked nation cried
what many could never figure
is if Oswald pulled the trigger
while Marilyn slept in the grave
Martin fought for the slave
yes even hate was still around
as Eldridge went underground
Malcolm X was gunned down
with bullets from the nation
to ease Elijah's aggravation
and the temptations sang "Cloud Nine"
another Kennedy has died
Ted needs a place to hide
only not within the bottle
nor behind the throttle
congress opens its doors
to pageboys and lobbyist whores
but they did put a man on the moon
right before Joplin sang her last tune
who would have thought "me and bobby magee"
would be over shadowed by the Manson Family
the blind leading the blind, neither could see
Jim Jones and the Guyana tragedy
Even Earth, Wind, and Fire, "kept their head to the sky"
praying for an end to a senseless war
that no one knew what they were fighting for
our "vietnam" seems up to date
while nixon got caught up in watergate
whitehouse rose "bushes"we love to hate
Lennon left the beatles ill-willed
never to "imagine" he'd be shot and killed
and War Sang, "slipping into darkness",
followed by "the world is a ghetto"
Even "the greatest" shall soon fall
but in defeat they stand tall
unlike the berlin wall
the thriller in manilla
refused to be a killa
as rap became the new wave
and crack became the new crave
along with video games
just another war, with different names
Teena Marie sang "Deja' Vu"
Nerd Gates becomes the new Donald Trump
while history gets taught by Forrest Gump
a great poet died at the age of twenty-five
though many claim Tupac is still alive
and I saw Elvis and Bruce Lee too
singing the blues with you know who
then came the white bronco on the loose
nobody could manuever like the Juice
except maybe Bill when he said please
a simple word that brought Monica to her knees
and Snoop Doggy Dog sang, "Ain't nuttin' but a "G" thang baby
Beepers became replaced by the cell phone
on 9/11 no one could call home
as war and mother nature ripped us a new ass
even Martha joined the inmate class
now she's out, but Oprah's still the queen
sorry Latifah, you know what I mean
the mother drowned her five children in a tub
she got sent to a Psychiatric health club
the ruling was it's a new sickness
my head screws off from such thickness
so many changes and hypocrisy
I guess that's what they call democracy
and Queen sang, "We are the Champions,
of the World"
throughout my life
I've heard many a sad song
relating to the lyrics
that seemed to play too long
Dad is that you? What are you doing there in the mirror?
I am trying to shave and I don’t need any help.
Do they shave in heaven or is it just cribbage and puzzles?
Do you like it there?
Does it matter?
Yes of course it does.
As long as you feel better that’s all that matters.
Inside the monkey smiles and knows you want it to be better you don’t to have to sweat it. The guilt would kill you. After everything he did for you……..
Shutting down your dreams of college and trying to force you into the military . Making sure you never had enough money to get out of the hood and for Christ’s sake take care of your sister’s virginity.
I survived only to look and be just like him.
And now what are you going to do? Dig the same hole. To late some asshole out on the peninsula has already started. He claims it cures cancer. All I know it that he stands in it for hours without moving and chants some mumbo jumbo. Too many years in special ops with the Air Cav can cause that to happen to a man. Hot LZ’s and medevac’s can make a man plum crazy- the things he sees.
They are everywhere and nowhere. Kill them all and let God sort them out was my mantra. If it can’t shoot and it ain’t breathing then it can’t hurt me. Stay low and keep moving cause if you stand still you become a target and if you get hit you become as statistic on a chart going round the world while they zip you up in body bag. And for what the CBS evening news with Dan Rather? Was it worth it; is it ever worth it to save freedom? What are we saving it from? Common belief would have us think that within every gook there was an American dying to get out. That ain’t the truth. For every gook there was a man and wife and a family and at the least they wanted peace. The question is who didn’t want peace? Was it the war machine in America? The Soviets do not want Americas to have a foothold in their territory. Is the domino theory still in effect or are there men that just never forget? I think when it comes to safety money wins out every time.
Wars leave people lonely; waiting and wondering what happened to the people they love. Some times they find each other and share the pure joy that only a human can fathom. Other times it never comes when we are left to wonder why we lost someone in the first World War. He was young and full of spirit. The old men egged him on trying to remember if they were peeling potatoes or sitting in a forward area shooting at Germans.
The cicada’s are out tonight and they are busting my balls. I can’t get that noise out of my head. I saw my head Doc today and they did an CAT scan but from preliminary sources it appears to be A OK. I don’t care what they say I still hear the Cicada’s and they aren’t waiting around for the next 17-year cycle. They are here now and they are in my head. No amount of drugs or alcohol seems to be able to drive them away. My Doctor chalks it up to my rock-roll-days and basically says that I am all but screwed and will never get better. I guess he's betting the odds that I will be dead before they find a fix. I am good with that. I am always up for a good wager. One day he will hear the choppers. And as old Willie Nelson once said, “There’s more old drunk’s than there are all doctors so I guess I will have another beer.” But if this buzzing doesn’t stop there’s going to be a momma with one less cowboy to have to have worry about. War kills people in the strangest and most mysterious ways.
I cannot believe that I used to have a crush on you,
You are cold, heartless, and MEAN!
I never talked about you, never did anything to you,
I never deserved that, you had no need to be so mean.
You stooped so low, never had I seen someone do that,
People told me you were like this, I just didn't believe them.
I didn't believe her when she said you were a womanizer,
Didn't believe you were a Cowboy Casanova, well you showed me,
And never will I do that again, you made me believe,
Believe her, snf you made me believe you liked me, you led me,
Led me on, and then you were like, "I don't like you."
Well guess what I didn't care then, and I sure don't care now,
Cause I loved my hubby all along,
Love him more than anyone and anything, I love him and only him!
I cannot believe I used to have a crush on someone like you,
I swear you are the spawn of Satan himself,
And I feel sorry for girls who date you or fall in love with you,
I do, because all you do is play them like a game.
I don't hate you, but I don't like you like that anymore.
You led me to believe you liked me, and then you said it was all a joke,
Yeah well you were a joke.
You were a pill, I was willing to take,
I am glad I didn't take you,
You are an unmistakeable , unidentified drug.
I am a good-bad girl, I can tell a bad boy,
But even I didn't see this, didn't see that you like this,
The boy with beautiful brown eyes,
Are now dull, no longer do they shine,
That brown hair, that I loved, is now just a memory,
The boy born on February 18th,
The one that I thought was perfect,
God what the hell was I thinking??
Don't ask if I'm alright,
I don't have the answer,
But if you ask me if I want to hurt you badly, I will say,
Say yes without hesitation.
You have no idea how bad I want to hurt you,
But then again I don't.
Half of me hates you,
The other half can't bear to see you,
The game you played on me,
It was cleaver, but it was also cruel and hurtful!
I want to hurt you like you hurt me, but I could never that mean.
I could be as mean as you,
The person who doesn't know how much what he does hurts people,
I bet you don't care either,
Because that's just the kind of person you are.
They tried to warn me, those two girls, M&H,
But I didn't listen to them.
I didn't listen to them, because I am not the kind of person,
The kind of person, to believe what other people say, without,
Without knowing about you, getting to know what you're like,
Until you do that to me.
Until I learn on my own, that's the kinda person I am,
I take the time to figure people out, instead of judging them,
Judging them by how they look like, and what people say,
That's the kinda person I am, I am a strong Redneck Woman.
And I will never change who I am, change myself for anyone,
I will not change for anyone.
If you don't like me for myself, then you don't deserve my time, or my words,
Or my anything.
This is officially the end of me and my poem,
When I was just a teenage lad, and growing up out West
I never wore a cowboy hat or fancy leather vest
Never put on cowboy boots or western shirts with snaps
Never wore tooled leather belts, much less a pair of chaps
To be in style the Ivy League was what one wore to school
A skinny tie and button-down was how you dressed up cool
We wore Weejun penny loafers and tapered chino slacks
The boys all sported flattops, kept up straight with wax
Rock and roll and sock hops, my dance was then the twist
Cotton-eyed Joe and two-step didn't even make the list
Good ol' Willie Nelson could hardly make a sound
'Cause the King and Frank Sinatra were the coolest guys around
But when I joined the service, and moved outside the state
It didn't matter where I went or if I spoke my name out straight
For a while I thought I had some kind of omnipresent hex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
When I said over yonder, they'd all say “Over... Where?”
When I talked about a horny toad, I'd get a funny stare
It didn't matter if my name was Buck or Roy or Rex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
When they shipped me overseas, I thought that I would die
Couldn't get a Dr. Pepper there, or any Frito pie
When I wanted longneck Lone Stars, all they had was Beck's
And all those Europeans would always call me Tex
Any label kind of burned me, so right then I made the call
I'd learn to talk just like those guys, to hide my Texas drawl
I practiced on my diction, with elocution persevered
And soon the sideways looks and grins had finally disappeared
I traveled all around the world, got married overseas
Learned myself a few more tongues and got a few degrees
Now if I talk to British lords or English-speaking Czechs
When I masticate the lingo, they never call me Tex
Finally made it home one day, after way too many years
Came back to salute old pals and maybe share some beers
I wondered how the touch of time had treated all those lads
To my surprise, those preppy guys had all turned into their dads
Each one wore a cowboy hat and dandy leather vest
Some sported a bandana, some with bola ties were dressed
Some shod those M.L. Leddy boots with fancy pull-on straps
Each had a set of bootcut jeans and western shirts with snaps
Something then came over me, something that felt right
I heard my voice inside me say "Well boys, ain't y'all a sight!”
That educated accent that I'd worked so hard to gain
Had evaporated quicker than a light West Texas rain
I guess that you can travel, and learn lots of fancy stuff
But with friends who knew you when, there's no way that you can bluff
They might be polite with you, and humor you no doubt
But you're better off to cut it loose and let it all hang out
They all let out a holler, yelling “Waitress bring the checks!
Give 'em to that ugly hombre yonder with the handle Tex.”
Now if I were any other place, I'd likely wring their necks
But when I'm home in Texas, then you can call me Tex
“the last of the funerals”
today “the last of the funerals”
takes place &
the killings in CT get placed on the
alongside the deaths at Columbine,
those were the “big ones” right?
well, now, Aurora was a “big one,” right?
but it didn’t happen in a school, hmmm…but
12 died & 59 were injured---
still, everybody can attribute that to the
fact that the kid had orange hair, liked the
Joker & since he did it at the opening of a film,
it made the whole bloodbath almost cinematic
for those in the nation who didn’t die there
or weren’t affected personally by the dead &
sure seemed like a dvd extra to the new
Batman film, the way the media flashed his
picture in that courtroom over & over & over
& over & over & over & over & over,
every hour on the hour.
still, isn’t it true that 3 kids were killed
on 2/27/12 at Chardon High School in Ohio
when Thomas Lane blew them away?
(but he was caught & he only used a
.22 in doing so, in some rural town…so it
must not have been dramatic enough?
he must not have packed enough hardware.)
what about One L. Goh’s killing of 7
in April at Oikos University in Cali,
where he shot nursing students
“execution style” up against a wall?
(but he was 43 years old & ended up
surrendering later at a Safeway, having
used a .45 semi-auto handgun, so…
still must not have been dramatic
enough? he was 43, over the hill, definitely
not sexy enough.)
do you remember hearing about those?
were those killings media-buzz-clip-newsworthy?
how about the killings on 2/22/12
in Norcross, Georgia (5 dead), or
2/26/12 in Jackson, Tenn. (1 dead, 20 inj.),
or 3/8/12 in Pittsburgh, Penn. (2 dead, 7 inj.).
or 3/31/12 in North Miami, FL (2 dead, 12 inj.),
or 4/6/12 in Tulsa, OK (3 dead, 2 inj.), or
5/29/12 in Seattle, WA (5 dead), or 7/9/12
in Wilmington, DE (3 dead), or 8/5/12 in
Milwaukee, WI (6 dead), or 8/14/12 in Texas
near A&M (3 dead), or 9/27/12 in Minn., MN
(5 dead, 3 inj.), or 10/21/12 in Brookfield, WI
(3 dead, 4 inj.), or 12/11/12 in Portland, OR
hmmm…maybe the body count wasn’t big enough
to catch the eye of the six o’clock & the
eleven o’clock as well?
SO, AMERICA, DO YOU THINK MORE GUNS
IS THE ANSWER?
(think this will be “the last of the funerals?”)
SO, AMERICA, DO YOU THINK “GOOD GUYS
WITH GUNS IS THE ANSWER?
(just who exactly are the “good guys?”)
blame it on video games.
blame it on music videos.
blame it on horror movies.
right, mr. NRA? mr. cowboy-gotta-hard-on-whenever-there’s-
just like those who see the
increasing tropical storms &
increasing mass drought &
then say there is no such thing as global warming,
this america watches the wave of violence growing within
the belly of its empire &
then says that there is nothing wrong with the increasing
tension, stress, oppression & struggle,
brought on by the preference of profit over people,
giving rise to it all.
THE STARGAZER'S RIDE
(or THE LAST SPURRING LICK)
Saddle shoulder-tossed like feather light
Aging cowboy strutted for the crowds
The throngs that mingled in his mind
From past glory, cheering loud.
Across his shoulder down his back
Leather mended with great care
Oiled and rubbed with tender hands
A woman never stirred such love.
Excitement scuttled--- colors blazed---
whooping kids these afternoons—
Livestock stirr and kicked the stalls
inhaling echo pumped excitement’s blur—
Colors mixed with fear and joy
Set the boldest man on edge
Broken bones mere memories--
Blotted out behind the thrills
That bucked behind the unknown stalls.
A sudden certainty grabbed him
As real as bucking in the stalls
His breath still strong and stalwart sure
The sounds and colors shimmered on
Visions flashed from death to glory
Called to thrills that grind the soul.
He'd had his fill of limps and aches
No delights in growing old .
Today he'd end his life on fire
A rank Star gazer sucking back
His time the best—tho body crushed
He’d give this crowd a shattering crack
spurring lick--the movement of a cowboy's feet
Rank—hard animal to ride
Star gazer- animal that bucks with his head up
Suck back: animal that suddenly switches direction
I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her memory. It was a dark and very sad time and I miss her so much. The Invisible Man poems are supposed to to show the the darkness of my world, the way I felt. They are very precious to me. Thank you for reading.
Back to the place where I raised walking the streets of my old hometown nothing changes,
Having been walking for days and days the shoes I found have just starting falling apart,
My toes poke out from a big hole in the front and my blistered feet are freezing cold,
It's funny sometimes how things seem to start to give up just like my broken old heart.
As usual the cold bites through my torn clothes then the wind whips up and blows my hair,
It needs a good wash the grease lets me flatten it to my head and it's grey wavy and long,
But now the wind has changed walking becomes easier I'm glad the wind is behind me now,
This time the wind can blow in the same direction as me so now it can help push me along.
Someone is walking towards me better duck my head it's an old friend that I once knew well,
But there was no need to duck as he crosses over disgusted and he gives me plenty of space,
I can recognise him, all he sees is a pathetic tramp an old man pissed and down on his luck,
Even from the other side of the road he looks sideways just so can't bare to look in my face.
Invisible goes back and sits on a bench, hurt, confused, at a loss. To try and take this from his mind he thinks of nice things.
When I was a young boy the there were scented breezes I enjoyed each new day the sun always shone,
When you had friends you could play games and talk, laugh run through grass that was ever so long,
Children full of stories mostly untrue, had a unique personality each of my friends I will never forget,
But age creeps in and things change lifestyles change losing innocence is the thing I really do regret,
I dream and take myself back, back to the days when cowboys and Indians chased each other all day
Back to the days that were warm and long and we got bored we had holes in our trousers and shirts,
Sometimes when I concentrate really hard and really long I can see myself playing or standing there,
Covered in newly mowed fields with straw and grass running shouting and the wind in my long hair,
And as I take myself back I can see my friends faces running and playing football as clear as today,
What has happened to my happy life where has it gone tell me, "Why does our youth get taken away?"
(cont from Richard Pickett's side )
You alright? Hang on I got a bus coming . I got your piece. Bill pulled Brick
up to a half sitting position as he was talking to him. He scanned the area
to see any possible witnesses. He heard Brick making-” uhh -uhh “noises and
that’s all he seemed to be able to do. “Say I got an idea Brick .. just a suggestion
cause I know how you hate getting bossed around and all…. How about
breathing?… I’ll bet it would take some of that blue outa your face, pardner.
It just don’t become you, ya know?
“Uhh, hunh, uh hunhh hunhh.” Brick still couldn’t talk but his breath was coming back around.
“Atta way Brick, good thing I came along and reminded you to do that.... But what are pardners for? You’d have probably done the same for me although I ain’t sure about you New Yorkers. ...You okay now, buddy?”
“Huunh, huunh…yeah..huunh, no thanks …to you…huunh. You shoulda ..uh
huunh …seen it…I almost.. killed the guy…yeah ..unnh.. Smashed …his foot…uhu…
with my chest…hunnhh. “Bill helped Brick up to a half standing position while Brick continued with labored breath. “Where the hell were you.. Uh.. anyway, while I was .. huunh ..kicking this guy’s butt? " Bill picked up Brick’s hat, dusted it off and set it on Brick's head who was still bent over holding his ribs.
“Where was I? I was over yonder having me a sandwich ..and you
know how I hate to be disturbed while I’m eating.” They could hear the bus siren
now getting closer. “How you doing now, ole buddy?
“Better I guess…uhh ..least I can breathe.. Sorta.“
“Brick they’re probably gonna want to check you out when that bus gets here.”
"Why did you ..hunhh .. call the bus, Cowboy? You know ..uhh.. I hate getting groped by those guys. ..uhuhh." Let’s go before uh ..they get here! “
Exactly then the bus came into view, parked and a medic immediately rushed out
excitedly hollering ” where’s the downed officer!?”
Brick looked up to see she was blond , flush cheeked and awful easy on the eyes. …”I’m right here, Miss! ..uhh .. It’s me!”
Bill grinned and was glad to see he would be in good hands. “Yeah, you’ll have to
help him. He can’t walk too good. But you should see the other guy . I'm sure he’s
limping all over the place around here somewhere. Heh heh. I’ll take care of your car Brick. Catch you later.”
Brick was busy. Bill made his way back through the little crowd that
had gathered there and walked back towards Brick’s car while still carefully scanning
the tenement buildings. (to be cont)