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Red Flannels Higgins
Grandpappy always put on those longhandles when the leaves fell from the trees
and the weather turned cold. He sure looked funny but I guess he kept warm. With gray-
white hair which covered most of his head, the gray-black stubble which grew on his
face, and the wiry-red fleece of the longjohns which seemed like red hair growing all
over the rest of his body, he looked like some sort of a cross between a bear and an old
man.
I was just a young boy then, but I never will forget that night in October when we
were awakened by what grandpappy thought was the cry of a wildcat. We had more than
two-hundred head of chicken then and he was afraid a cat was after the chickens. Grand-
pappy stalked over to the fireplace and lifted his double-barreled shotgun from the
wooden pegs. Following close behind him, I noticed that the flap to his red flannels was
unbuttoned and hanging down, but I didn’t dare call this to his attention.
Now on our farm there were three bloodhounds. They always slept under the house.
So when we crept out the door onto the porch and down the porch steps into the backyard
the dogs woke up. The chickens, which were perched in the trees near the house, began
rustling a bit. Besides that everything seemed all right. The air was cold and crisp and the
moon was shining down through the trees. I stood near the far end of the porch, jogging
lightly from foot to foot, rubbing my arms, trying to control the involuntary chattering
of my teeth. Grandpappy, poised, ready, his trap door hanging down exposing two shiny,
white cheeks, was looking up into the trees, trying to locate a silhoutte which didn’t
belong. As he was studying the shapes in the trees, his left hand above his brow guarding
his eyes from the brightness of the moon’s light, his right hand on the trigger guard, the
index finger curved about the trigger, one of the bloodhounds stretched, moved stealthily
2
over behind Grandpappy, and put a cold, wet nose right where the flap was down. Grand-
pappy leaped into the air and both barrels went off. At least a dozen of the chickens were
blown to kingdom come.
We spent the next morning pickin’ up those parts of the chickens that had
fallen back to earth.
The End
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