I’m having a memorial open house for my mother today. She passed January 2nd, but I’m just now able to face a memorial.
ANYWAY, she liked Lonnie best of my characters, and she liked “Lonnie, Me, and the Hound of Hell” (which she persisted in calling “The Devil Dog”) best of all my Lonnie stories. So I’m sharing a snippet from that story today in her honor. Miss you, Mom!
excerpt from “Lonnie, Me, and the Hound of Hell”
by Marian Allen
Next morning, the girls only stayed long enough to make sure we got the dishes the right way in the dishwasher before they took off. Lonnie watched out the front picture window until the car turned the corner, then motioned me into the kitchen and onto the back porch.
The mongrel was stretched out on his side on the grass, sound asleep in the sun. His forepaws and muzzle were coated with dirt, where he’d been digging somewhere.
“Last night,” Lonnie said, “I done like you told me and sprinkled that holy water around the doors and windows. And this morning, Leona found the pan of water on the table and asked me what it was. And I said I was going to boil some eggs last night but changed my mind. And she opened up the back door and flang the water out, and that hell-hound was standing out there and the water went all over him and he yelped like he was scalded, and run off. Now, what do you think of that?”
I thought that I would have yelped and run if somebody had thrown a pan of water on me out of the clear blue sky, but I could see that Lonnie wasn’t in the mood to be sensible. I didn’t answer him, just stood on the porch and stared at the dog. Like I said, I don’t generally say a lot, so Lonnie let me alone. After a while, he went in and got us both some coffee and an Oreo apiece and we parked our butts on the porch rail and dunked and slurped and thought.
Finally, I put down my cup on the windowsill and said, “There’s only one thing to do, Lon.”
“We’re going to have to baptize that dog.”
When a man has a headache, he takes an aspirin. When a man is certain sure he’s done a service to raise Old Nick, it stands to reason giving equal time to the other side would cancel it out. But would Lonnie think so? That was the question.
Lonnie looked back and forth between the mutt and me. “Sprinkle or dunk?” he asked.
Buy LONNIE, ME, AND ….
Or you can buy LONNIE, ME AND THE HOUND OF HELL, which contains the first Lonnie and Tiny story plus about nine other of my odd animal stories, for 99 cents.
A WRITING PROMPT FROM ME TO YOU: Well? Sprinkle or dunk? Write about sprinkling or dunking.