“Ya id’jet! Ya hit me! Ya done fouled out! Mom is a-gonna kill me! This shirt is brand new!” Alan screamed over and over as he stood there shaking his head.
Bubba’s pie had struck Alan with plenty of force and a brown, gooey mess was drippin’ down his chest.
“Foul!!” Alan screamed once more and started for the house running.
Bubba just stood there in shock. He had gone for the gold and had lost. With an self determined inner sense of pride, he raised his head, squared up his shoulders, turned and walked toward the barn. He had decided he would show us how to lose with dignity.
As soon as Bubba had left, Larry looked at me and started laughin’. “I knew his chip was too fresh.” was all he said.
I was stunned that Bubba had lost and in this manner. I mean when it came to throwin’ bull, everyone in the hills knew my cousin Bubba had no equal. Shakin’ our heads Larry and I started to walk slowly up the cow path toward the house. We were in no hurry, but we wanted to be there before Bubba got home.
The discipline that Bubba would receive for hittin’ his brother in the chest with a cow chip was sure to be entertainin’. Bubba was one of those guys who cried, screamed, and begged, even before he was touched (Yep, this was back in the days when spakin’s were common). But when it came to receivin’ discipline, like everything else he did, he was a real gold medal winner.
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