American literature -- Humor; American wit and humor
I rekon I've lived as much as most foaks accordin' to age, and I ain't
tired of livin' yit. I like it. I've seen good times, and bad times, and
hard times, and times that tired men's soles, but I never seed a time
that I coulden't extrakt sum cumfort out of trubble. When I was a boy I
was a lively little devil, and lost my edycashun bekaus I couldn't see
enuf fun in the spellin' book to get thru it. I'm sorry for it now, for
a blind man can see what a fool I am. The last skhoolin' I got was the
day I run from John Norton, and there was so much fun in that my daddy
sed he rekoned I'd got larnin' enuf. I had a bile on my back as big as a
ginney egg, and it was mighty nigh ready to bust. We boys had got in a
way of ringin' the bell before old Norton got there, and he sed that the
first boy he kotched at it would ketch hail Kolumby. Shore enuf he
slipped upon us one mornin', and before I knowed it he had me by the
collar, and was layin' it on like killin' snakes. I hollered, "My bile,
my bile, don't hit me on my bile," and just then he popped a center
shot, and I jumped three feet in the atmosphere, and with a hoop and a
beller I took to my heels. I run and hollered like the devil was after
me, and shore enuf he was. His long legs gained on me at every jump, but
just as he was about to grab me I made a double on him, and got a fresh
start. I was aktiv as a cat, and so we had it over fences, thru the
woods, and round the meetin' house, and all the boys was standin' on
skool house hill a hollerin', "Go it, my Bill--go it, my Bill." As good
luck would have it there was a grape vine a swingin' away ahead of me,
and I ducked my head under it just as old Norton was about two jumps
behind. He hadn't seen it, and it took him about the middle and throwed
him the hardest summerset I ever seed a man git. He was tired, and I
knowd it, and I stopped about three rods off and laffd at him as loud as
I could ball. I forgot all about my bile. He never follered me another
step, for he was plum giv out, but he set there bareheaded and shook his
hickory at me, lookin' as mad and as miserable as possible. That lick on
my bile was about the keenest pain I ever felt in my life, and like to
have killed me. It busted as wide open as a soap trof, and let every
drop of the juice out, but I've had a power of fun thinkin' about it for
the last forty years.
But I didn't start to tell you about that.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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