Anything to Save a Buck

We all know people who are masters at getting something for nothing. But when it comes to saving a buck Skunky Wilson, my childhood partner in mischief, is the king. He can pinch a penny so tightly he gives ole Abe Lincoln a migraine.

I’m reminded of an incident when trying to save a few bucks almost cost Skunky and me a night in jail.It was a warm Wednesday; the middle of September, the week of our county fair, and Skunky had come up with great scheme to get us into the fair and the nightly concert for free.

You see the following Saturday evening our all time favorite local country group, Puck Outhouse and the Down-winder band, would be performing in the grandstand at the fair. We just had to see them. But the admission to the fair, along with the price of the concert ticket, was beyond our financial grasp.

“All we need,” Skunky quietly announced as he entered my bedroom, “is a leash, Meathead [Meathead was my humongous, cross-bred, unruly, hyper, dumber-than-a-tree stump dog], and a pair of sunglasses.”

What Skunky had in mind was to pretend he was blind--Meathead and I were along to help him around the fairgrounds. He felt that with a “seeing-eye” dog and an escort, no one would dare question us.

Now, it was a policy of the county that people with impairments were, along with an accompanying attendant, allowed to enter the fair and the nightly concerts for free. I’ll have to admit, Skunky was sinking to a new low with this one. Unfortunately, new lows are highly sought after by most 15-year-old boys.

The days couldn’t slip by fast enough for our impatient teenage selves, but finally the big day arrived.After getting through the gate without any problems, Skunky put his sunglasses in his shirt pocket and handed control of Meathead to me. We then strolled along the fairgrounds, observing the different rides and games, but they were of little interest to us. We were there to see Puck and the gang.

Soon it was time to head to the grandstand for the concert. On our way there we snuck behind the auction building, where Skunky promptly put on his sunglasses. “O.K., let’s go,” he said. I handed him Meathead’s leash. He grabbed my elbow with his free hand and off we went.

We were about halfway to the grandstand when Meathead spotted a barely eaten foot-long hotdog on the ground. That mutt took off for it like he was possessed with a demon. A tug-of-war then ensued, my dog, trying with all his might to get to the hotdog, while Skunky, to counter Meathead’s effort, leaned backward and pulled on the leash with both hands resembling something akin to a water skier.

It was such a spectacle that a crowd gathered. From the collective doubt I saw expressed on their faces I knew they were on to our little scam, and unless I acted quickly the sheriff would soon arrive to haul our skinny behinds to jail.

“Hey,” I said to the onlookers, “the dog just graduated from school and he’s new at this. Give him a break!” I don’t think I convinced anyone, but by then Meathead had given up the struggle and we quickly made our way to the grandstand.

There’s another courtesy the county commissioners provided at the fair for impaired patrons. A few seats near the stage were reserved for them. Of course, that was another part of Skunky’s devious plan, to get free seats near the front of the stage.

“Come on you two,” the usher chortled, and with a grin she proceeded to guide us to our seats. I had the distinct feeling she’d witnessed the tug of war between Skunky and Meathead but she never mentioned it, and we silently started down the steps to the front row. And that’s when Skunky’s plan fell apart like a leper in an aerobics class.

About four steps into the stand, we passed an aisle seat with a man sitting in it, eating a sandwich, a barbecue sandwich. Well, Meathead caught a whiff of that sandwich and forgot all about the lost battle for the hotdog. This was a much better prize and this time he was not to be denied.

Meathead lunged for the sandwich just as the guy was taking a bite of it. Leaping into the man’s lap, the dog clamped his powerful jaws around that tasty morsel and bit that sucker off right at the man’s lips, even giving the sandwich owner a kiss in appreciation for sharing his food. It took Skunky, me, and the usher to yank that mangy mutt off the guy, and as we were so doing, it seemed the sandwich owner was trying to tell us something. But the guy could hardly speak, what with his spitting and all--I guess the dog-slobber kiss didn’t appeal to the guy. Some people just don’t know how to graciously accept gratitude.

While we stood there pondering our predicament, sandwich owner collected himself and commenced an attempt to take us in toll. As they say, it was time to get while the getting was good.

At a run we sailed down the steps (not an easy task with Meathead trying to take off in every other direction) toward the stage, and flung ourselves over the railing that skirted the front of the grandstand.Of course Meathead went under the bottom rail, while Skunky and I went over the top one.

The problem was that Skunky still had hold of the leash. The leash went taught, and because Meathead was not only the stronger of the two, but he also had a full head of steam, Skunky was jerked backward against the fence.

Suddenly I heard, “Whaaaaaaaaaa,” just before the loud thump. Turning my head I could hardly believe what I saw. There was Skunky, sliding down the fence (by now he’d lost his grip on the leash), right onto Meathead’s back, as if he were going to ride that dog like a bronc.

“Come on Skunky! This is no time to be playing rodeo,” I said. Sometimes I wondered about that boy.

Skunky hung on to Meathead as the dog ran toward me at a full gallop.

“There they are, after them!” It was the local sheriff and a couple of deputies, and they were running down the center aisle of the grandstand, heading toward us.

“Jeez,” I yelled, “they got the cops after us. Let’s get out of here!” With that, we ran with great haste toward home.

Later that night as my family, Skunky, and I were watching the evening news, the broadcaster reported that two boys had snuck into the county fair and the nightly concert by faking to be blind.

“Good thang them boys wuznt ya’ll,” my momma said to us. “I’d surely skin yer ears if’n it was. But then, I know y’all wunnt do an unnerhanded thang like that, would yuh?”

Skunky and I didn’t say a word. We just looked at each other and smiled. Why ruin a tender moment like that with Momma?

10 comments:
Britmum said...
Come on Doug are you for real? How bloody funny is that. I am in stiches. OMG!!!
Sunday, February 18, 2007 10:34:00 PM EST

Doug Bagley said...
All I can tell you is, as it says in my profile concerning my stories, "some fact, some based on fact, some just fun fiction." I, dear readers, will let y'all figure it out, lol, ;-),but glad I made ya laugh.
Sunday, February 18, 2007 10:55:00 PM EST

Valerie said...
oh lord."falling apart like a leper in an aerobics class." you're killing me!!great story again...i so wanna be like you when i grow up - only i wanna stay me, just write like you.
Monday, February 19, 2007 1:38:00 AM EST

cmk said...
I can picture every hysterically funny moment of that story! Great writing.
Monday, February 19, 2007 2:40:00 PM EST

LZ Blogger said...
Skunky & Meathead... boy you just can't make THIS STUFF up! ~ jb///
Monday, February 19, 2007 8:34:00 PM EST

Rachel said...
Thanks for another good laugh Doug!! This was hilarious!!! I agree with cmk, I could see it all as I read it. You are a good writer!
Monday, February 19, 2007 10:40:00 PM EST

Peter said...
That was a doozy Doug, its amazing just how much mischief can be fitted into the life of a teenager.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 8:53:00 AM EST

cantellya said...
I'da had to fight him for the chili dog...
Wednesday, February 21, 2007 6:44:00 PM EST

JunieRose said...
Hahaha- Good story, Doug!I think this one is embellished a little!On second thought, tho, my husband tells some pretty tall-tales of his youth and swears they are true...so knowing what boys are like I can imagine this could happen! ;)Fun!!JunieRose
Thursday, February 22, 2007 12:47:00 PM EST

Sideways Chica said...
Well, with a name like "Meathead," can you blame him for going for the meatloaf sandwich? Not me! ;)Very funny Dave...have a great week.Teri
Friday, February 23, 2007 12:16:00 PM EST