Peck's Bad Boy and His Pa: 1883Peck, George W. (George Wilbur)
General
Peck's Bad Boy and His Pa: 1883
Peck, George W. (George Wilbur)
American wit and humor; Boys -- Fiction; Practical jokes -- Fiction
“You can't play no pickle on me, not when I have the mumps. Ma passed
the pickles to me this morning, and I took one mouthful, and like to had
the lockjaw. But Ma didn't do it on purpose, I guess. She never had the
mumps and didn't know how discouraging a pickle is. Darn if I didn't
feel as though I had been struck in the butt of the ear with a brick.
But about Pa. He has been fuller'n a goose ever since New Year's day. I
think its wrong for women to tempt feeble minded persons with liquor
on New Year's. Now me and my chum, we can take a drink and then let it
alone. We have got brain, and know when we have got enough, but Pa, when
he gets to going don't ever stop until he gets so sick that he can't
keep his stummick inside of hisself. It is getting so they look to me to
brace Pa up every time he gets on a tear, and I guess I fixed him this
time so he will never touch liquor again. I scared him so his bald head
turned gray in a singe night.
“What under the heavens have you done to him now?” says the grocery man,
in astonishment. “I hope you haven't done anything you will regret in
after years.”
“Regret nothing,” said the boy, as he turned the lid of the cheese box
back and took the knife and sliced off a piece of cheese, and took a few
crackers out of a barrel, and sat down on a soap box by the stove, “You
see Ma was annoyed to death with Pa. He would come home full, when she
had company, and lay down on the sofa and snore, and he would smell like
a distillery. It hurt me to see Ma cry, and I told her I would break Pa
of drinking if she would let me, and she said if I would promise not
to hurt Pa to go ahead, and I promised not to. Then I got my chum and
another boy, quite a big boy, to help, and Pa is all right. We went down
to the place where they sell arms and legs, to folks who have served in
the army, or a saw mill, or a thrashing machine, and lost their limbs,
and we borrowed some arms and legs, and fixed up a dissecting room.
We fixed a long table in the basement, big enough to lay Pa out on you
know, and then we got false whiskers and moustaches, and when Pa came in
the house drunk and laid down on the sofa, and got to sleep we took
him and laid him out on the table, and took some trunk straps, and a
sircingle and strapped him down to the table. He slept right along all
through it, and we had another table with the false arms and legs on,
and we rolled up our sleeves, and smoked pipes, Just like I read that
medical students do when they cut up a man. Well, you'd a dide to see Pa
look at us when he woke up. I saw him open his eyes, and then we began
to talk about cutting up dead men. We put hickory nuts in our mouths
so our voices would sound different, so he wouldn't know us, and I was
telling the other boys about what a time we had cutting up the last man
we bought. I said he was awful tough, and when we had got his legs off
and had taken out his brain, his friends come to the dissecting room
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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