Funstory.

Part of a group exercise for fiction.

"Lissen, sherrif—alls I wus doin’ wus settin’ here en mah house with those kets o’ mine, ya see, whin all a sudden there came this aweful noise. That ole mister Jones wus screamin’ an’ hollerin’, yellin’ something’’bout the “south will rise ‘gain” or somethin’. Crazy grampa’s always talkin’ ‘bout the war an’ how them troops es comin’ to a-tack an’ all hes doin’s protectin’ us! I don’t need no protecshun seein’ as how that damn wars been won by them yanks fer over a hundred yers now! Wells, I’s ‘bout ta go outside an’ tell hem ta shut his trap, seein’ as et was only ‘round six en the mornin’ ‘bout that time, when next thang I knows es ther’s a hole en tha front o’ my house an’ a beg black ball settin’ en tha middle o’ my livin’ room floor. Well, affer that I wus all worred ‘bout my kets, sos I went ‘round makin’ sure they’s alrigh’. At firs’ I thought mebbe I’d lost one, but he’s jes hidin’ 'neath tha couch. But, see here, ther wus still tha prolem of ther bein’ a beg hole en the front o’ my house—an’, well, I’s gunna deal with it, ya get me? Sos I go en ta tha ketchen an’ got deddy’s ole shotgun off tha wall—you seen wher I kep it before, righ’? I took et off the wall an’ I marched mahself righ’ outside, through that beg ole hole I got en my house, an’ I cocked et and pointed et straight at hem. No, I dedn’t shoot none—ya ken even chek tha barrel ef ya don’t believe me. Naw, I never had no intention o’ shootin’ that ole geezer, alls I wus gunna do was threaten hem—he done blown a hole in my house an’ ‘bout nearly keeled me and mah kets. Wulls—affer I dun decided I wuddn’t gunna shoot that crazy ole man I sees that youngin offcer o’ yers comin’ in them fancy new cars y’all got. I tell yew whut—I ain’t never seen nobody move like that man ded. He dun got outta hes car and run over to tha ole man, tryin’ ta de-tayn hem. Jes ‘bout the funnust thang I ever did see. That offcer shudda known that mossback wuddn’t goin’ down with no fight! He dun try an’ punched the po-lece man ‘bout twenny times er so. Then that crazy Caroline girlthat werks down at the old folks home—yew know, tha daughter o’ Doc O’Rilley—come runnin’ over to hem an’ the offcer tryin’ to tell hem that that stooped war-horse ain’t done nothin’ wrong! Wulls that’s when I come stormin’ off mah porch and start screamin’ at ‘em. “WHUT THA HELLS YEW MEAN HE AIN’T DUN NOTHIN’ WRONG!? He dun blown a damn hole mah house! Dun nearly keeled me an’ my kets! Offcer! Yous gots ta a-rest this here man righ’ now!” Mess Caroline wus tryin’ to hide be-hind that offcer—I thank shes prolly afraid seeing as I hed mah shotgun steel en mah arms at this point. Wells it was jes ‘bout then that that young offcer feels like he ken a-cost me. He dun tried ta take deddy’s shotgun away frum me! I tell yew whut—I wus not havin’ that. I wudda beat hem upside the head ef he’d aktchally taken et frum me. All tha time hes tryin’ ta get et away frum me, Mess Caroline is tryin’ and tryin’ ta get his at-tenshun. She’s jumpin’ up an’ down sayin’ thangs like, “Offcer, Offcer—I got sum in-formatshun for ya ‘bout Mister Jones.” Whut in-formashun she got that anyone cian’t tell yew? Hmm? That ole man is a nut job and damn near e’ryone en this town knows et. But, anyways whin that youngin fine-ly realized he wuddn’t gunna be able ta take that shotgun frum me—I’m stronger then I look, yew knows?—he give up an’ storms off! All be dammed ef I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that before! He jes give up and gets back en his car an’ leaves! Well—Mess Caroline looked like she mebbe’d lost her dog er somethin’—I wus thankin’ mebbe she’d gone and got herself a crush on that youngin’ offcer. And that oldster started pushin’ that damn cannon away and screamin’ ‘bout the south ‘gain, like hes gunna go blow up someone elses house. Wulls, that’s ‘bout when yew showed up an’ dun made e’rything righ’. ‘Cept—I steel got that damn hole en tha front o’ mah house, and I got one more question fer ya. Why the hells am I settin’ in this damn police station when I’m the victem here?! I dun told ya I dedn’t shoot off that shotgun!"


The other people in my group wrote from the perspective of the Old man, Caroline, and the young officer. It was funtimes.