Free The Case of the Hooking Bull by John R. Erickson

he s-s-saved your l-l-life!”
    â€œSo? He done the world a huge favor and that ort to be reward enough in itself, and he don’t need me sayin’ a bunch of mealymouth thank-yous that I don’t believe in, and which no buzzard worth shootin’ would believe in, and you could take a lesson from that yourself, son, and quit carryin’ on like an I-don’t-know-what, and puttin’ on airs, because you ain’t a little hummingbird, son, you’re a BUZZARD, from a long line of buzzards.”
    The old man turned to me. “And buzzards is buzzards, and we’re proud to be buzzards, and buzzards don’t say PLEASE and buzzards don’t say THANK YOU, especially to dogs, and you can either put that in your pipe and smoke it, or chew it up and spit it out, I don’t give a rip which.”
    Up on the tower, Junior gave his head a sad shake. “Oh P-p-pa, y-you’re s-s-so t-terrible!”
    â€œThat’s right, and proud of it too.”
    At that very moment—you won’t believe this—at that very moment, I thought I heard music, real pretty music, and Junior started singing this song.
    Family Fugue
    Junior
    Sometimes, Pa, I think you are a dirty rotten cad.
    You’re my dad,
    But still, I think you could adjust.
    You simply must acquire some polish and some class.
    Saying please won’t hurt your reputation, and in fact,
    It could help you some.
    It’s dumb to offend the very one
    Who’s lent a hand and pulled you drowning from a tank.
    Wallace
    Son, I’ve tried to school you in the facts of buzzard lore,
    You’re a bore.
    But still, I think you could adjust.
    You really must quit talking nonsense to your pa.
    Buzzards by their very definition are uncouth,
    That’s the truth.
    What’s dumb is showing courtesy and manners
    To the very dog we came here just to eat.
    Junior
    Yeah, but Pa, I think you ought to show some courtesy
    Just to me.
    Because we are kinfolks doesn’t mean you have a right
    To treat me like we’re relatives.
    I can see there’s very little hope of getting through
    To you.
    I’m glad I pushed you off the windmill tower
    And I hope that almost drowning did you good.
    Wallace (counter melody)
    This boy talks nonsense.
    Where did I fail?
    Where did I go wrong?
    He didn’t learn it from his pa.
    I won’t say thank you.
    I won’t say please.
    I will ignore you.
    And I hope that this ignoring does you good.
    When they were done with the song, the old man turned to me and said, “And that’s my last word on the subject, I don’t want to hear any more about it, and Junior, me and you need to be scoutin’ around for something dead to eat, and if we don’t hurry, it’s liable to be ME.”
    â€œY-y-yeah, I’m about to s-s-starve.”
    â€œWe come here two hours ago, thinkin’ this silly dog was going to be the answer to our prayers, but here he is . . .” The old man gave me the evil eye. “You’re a-wasting our time, dog. Are you available for supper or ain’t you? Just a simple yes or no, never mind the details.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œFine. Junior, with one simple word, this dog has just broke my heart into thirteen pieces. I don’t know what your plans are for the rest of the evening, but I’m fixin’ to get airborne and hunt grub.” Then back to me: “But things change, puppy, and we’ll sure ’nuff check you out first thing in the morning.”
    And with that, he pointed himself into the wind, pushed off the edge of the tank, flapped his wings, and climbed into the evening sky.
    Junior grinned down at me from the tower. “H-h-he’s j-just awful s-s-sometimes. W-well, I g-guess I’d b-b-better g-go or h-he’ll be b-b-back and s-s-start y-yelling at m-me again. B-bye, D-d-doggie.”
    â€œSee you around, Junior, and say, I liked that song.”
    â€œOh th-thanks. P-pa d-didn’t