Story Time

I love a good story. My favorite people are those who can relate an otherwise mundane occurrence or downright boring lesson with humor or color, respectively. I am not a "just the facts" person. The circle of folks here in rural Mississippi, to which I am slowly being allowed admittance, contains some first rate story-tellers. Heard this one the other day:

“We called him ‘Jumper’ cuz ever since we were kids he was so short and skinny he had to jump up to reach anything, an’ he was so light he could jump off a roof or out of a tree and land so easy he never got hurt. For bein’ so little, he was always lookin’ for a fight and would jump into a scrap any chance he got. So, the name ‘Jumper’ fit him, better’n the name Elton what his momma called him. Me and Jumper was coon huntin’ one evenin’ and the dogs treed this big ole boar coon way up in a sycamore tree down along Lawyer’s Creek. Jumper sez to me, ‘I’m gonna climb up there an’ knock that coon outa there an’ let the dogs fight him,’ an’ he jumps up an’ grabs a limb and swings up into the tree like a monkey climbin’ on a pony. He was up that tree quicker’n you can count your cousins. The dogs were going nuts with Jumper’s commotion going up in that tree, bayin’ and snarlin’ and workin’ themselves up into a frenzy just waitin’ for that coon to hit the ground. Once he got up close to that coon, Jumper realized he’d need somethin’ other than his bare hands to knock that coon off’n his perch, an’ he reaches over to break off a small limb. ‘Course Jumper didn’t weigh a buck and could’n work up enough leverage to break it off. He starts to swaying back’n forth raking that limb back’n forth an’ creatin’ such a commotion, an’ the dogs are getting’ whipped up, an’ all of a sudden I hear a crack an’ sumthin hittin’ limbs on the way down, an’ Jumper lands at the base of the tree with a thud and a ‘whoof!’ an’ then there’s a whirlin’ dog fight with Jumper in the middle of it. Them hounds were ready to hit the first thing that hit the ground and it was Jumper, an’ he’s screamin’ like a banshee, an’ the dogs are snarlin’ and snappin’ an’ I go to kickin’ like crazy at the dogs to get ‘em off’n Jumper. I’m a kickin’ dogs and they’s a yelpin’ when I connect an’ I’m kickin’ like crazy tryin’ to keep them dogs from eatin’ Jumper alive, an’ I’m not even tryin’ to aim at a particular dog, jus’ standin’ over Jumper and kickin’ like a hillbilly in a cloggin’ contest. Them dogs finally figure out Jumper ain’t no coon and leave him alone long enough for him to leap to his feet and start brushin’ himself off, an’ I sez, ‘Jumper, you alright?’, and he looks at me like he wants take the fight to me next and sez, ‘I wuz, til’ you kicked me in the head!’”