Friday, December 10, 2010

Part two, Six Legged Flies

  My dad would push back a laugh and a grin at this point and take a sip of coffee. "My uncle Chuck rode away from there as fast as he could with dozen biscuits to show for it. It wasn't long before my Great uncle came home in his model T, that was one old truck, but it was fairly new for them.”
  “He drove up to a dark cabin and looked for his family to come see him. When no one produced themselves he walked into the cabin carrying the two bags of groceries up the dusty path to the door. He looked back not even the pigs and goat bothered to come out and see his arrival,” said my father, in a different man’s voice ripe with age.
  “Gathering the bags into one arm, he freed up a hand to open the door just an inch, before pushing the door open with his foot,” announced my father, in yet another voice, then he kicked at the fire with his booted foot and imaginary bags in to both hands. “It swung wide and he was immediately startled by two pigs and the goat, who had spent the better part of the day within the cabin. He shook his head and looked inside the darken room. He moved cautiously not know what to expect,” Dad paused, to look around at his small audience making sure we were hanging on every word.
  “Easing the groceries onto the table he called out, Is there anyone home?" using the aged voice this time.
  The muffled voice of his wife answered, “Shut the door." Dad would cover his mouth to tell that part of the story.
  “It is hot in here, why are you in here with the windows closed up and the pigs.” He lit a lamp and called out again, "Where are you?" Dad would shine a flashlight into each of our faces.
  "Under here," her voice, coming from under the blanket in the living room.
  "Look I have been working all day, just tell me why you are playing games under blankets.”
  "Shut the door," answered the muffled voice of his crazy wife.
  He shut the door and she rose up and started to strike out at the flies that had made it into the cabin.
  "Okay, tell me." Dad would put his hands to his hips and in a demanding posture.
  "Haven't you heard, the six legged flies are killing people all over the valley," she said as she ran from one end of the room to the other killing as many as she could to protect her family.
  "Where did you hear that from," he asked, grinning from ear to ear. (And yes my dad would smile, Oh how he could smile)
  "From your nephew, he was so courageous riding up here to tell me, he saved us," she declared shaking her head in an agreement to her own statement. "Wait, didn't you see the dead bodies when you drove up, and you went to the market, their open?" My dad’s female voice would crack at this point.
  "Yes, the store is open, and to my knowledge all flies have six legs," he said as he watched her move to the fireplace swinging at the mantel.
  "Can we come out," said his oldest from under the blanket.
  "You sure can, your mama is almost done," he reached down to lift the blanket off the rest of the family the smell from Sarah's diaper was enough to drive most anything but the flies.
  As he reached down to pick up the pig droppings he laughed and whispered, "Six legs."
 "Put that down, the kids can clean up the cabin."
  It was then he had notice in a tick of a few seconds on the clock she had already changed out of her apron and dress into her town clothes.
  "Which were not as nice as church clothes, but we treated them almost a good," my dad would say taking a break to add a little wood and poke the fire.
  "So what happened next?" I would fine myself asking.
  "My Great uncle explained to her that his nephew went camping and wouldn’t be back for at least a week, it was his reward for bringing her a letter from her mother.”
  "You did read the letter, did you?" he asked.
  "No, I was to busy protecting my, our family," she answered.
  "You should read it, it says she is on her way and should be here sometime this evening. That is why I bought all the groceries," he stated as he laughed and walked back to the truck to get the rest of the groceries, whispering to himself, "Six legs that is great one."
  He never did tell her he could here someone laughing not far from the homestead. He didn't have the heart to watch his nephew killed over a six legged fly.

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