The Mitts Paragon

“Mmmmm boy,” Roy licked his chops. Speaking in a low, husky, mature voice, “Guess outta all God’s critters I like squirrel best, ‘specially when he’s wrapped ‘round some dumplin’s.” 

“You ain’t tasted all of God’s critters,” Clyde growled sarcastically, “so how would you know?”

“I know enough to know what I like and what I don’t like!” Roy fumed. “An’ I like this here squirrel and I don’t like … Skonk!”

“Have you ever tasted skunk, Roy?” Granny asked.

            “No ma’am, but if I had a taste I could tell if it was squirrel or skonk.” Roy said defensively.

Clyde realized there was no getting the best of Roy so he wagged his head and let it drop.  Granny’s grin went unnoticed as she continued setting the table. The conversation was abandoned for the blessing. Tonight it was J.R.’s turn. Heads were bowed, hands were clasped reverently together, and eyes were closed. In his best Sunday school voice J.R. prayed, “Yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you ma’am please. Open up the duck’s butt and shoot me out the peas.” Raising up his head, he expected everyone to echo AMEN! Instead, Oscar frowned, Mama gasped, and Granny covered a grin with her hand. Clara, Clyde, and Roy snickered until Mama sent J.R. to bed without supper. Suddenly the comedy became a tragedy and the kids put on their serious faces.

 The next day began with the warm sun eating away the cool dew as the crescent came to life. The day passed uneventfully with chores, playing, and trying to find a cool breeze until supper time. As he scooted to his assigned position on the bench for supper, Roy’s eyes danced as Granny sat a bowl of something and dumplings directly under his nose. This couldn’t be true! Roy thought as he sniffed deeply.

“Squirrel and dumplin’s two days in a row!” Casting his suspense aside he finally asked, “Granny, is this squirrel and dumplin’s agin?”

In a noncommittal way she replied, “You ain’t seen chicken feathers in the yard where I plucked a chicken did ya?”

Without responding, everyone deducted this must be squirrel. Again Granny’s grin went unnoticed as the conversation was abandoned for the blessing. This time Clara did the honors. It was a good thing it was her turn too! Everyone was alert to the blessing after what was so irreverently prayed last night. With such a captive audience, Clara’s prayer would have made the circuit preacher proud… except for the part where she stuck out her tongue at J.R. after the adults nodded their approval. After supper, only a few of the most distant neighbors walked by, no news to share.

            The next morning before the dew was fully gone; all three boys were running barefoot through the waist high grass between the western border of the tree line and the cotton fields. They were looking for something to get into that was away from the house and the watchful eye of anyone that might put them to work. The dew already had the bottom of their overalls soaked and mud was beginning to form.

“Hey, come here,” Clyde called to the others. “Come see what I found.” With a whoosh Roy and J.R. appeared through the grass and peeked over his shoulder as Clyde poked it with a stick. “It looks like something got et by a monster,” he said, “and it ain’t been too long ago either. See how the hide’s still soft? It ain’t been dead since supper yesterday.”

"Why that’s a skonk hide! Look here guys! This was a skonk! Somebody’s kilt and skint a skonk. Wasn’t no monster skint no animal that clean, an’ gutted ‘em too. Monster woulda eat teeth, hair and all. Somebody’s kilt and skint this skonk like they was gonna cook an’ eat ‘em!”              

Silence. They slowly looked from the carcass to each other. Then back to the carcass, and then back to each other. Once they made eye contact with each other, reality set in. An ashen pall came over their faces as they realized the possibilities of their discovery.