OLD PETE

I was searchin' around in the cellar of my mind, lookin' to see if there was a story layin' around in there someplace. Now, there's lots of cobwebs and dust in there but once in a while I come up with a story or a poem that tickles my fancy. So, I dust ‘em off and try to write ‘em down as fast as they come to me. That was the way with this piece, just somethin' I remembered from the past.                                            THE BULL RIDER My buddy and I had been doin' some rodeoin' and he drew a purty rank bull this one time. They gets the critter in the chute and that old bull is mad. I pulled his rope for him, he gets his wraps on, and he nods his head. That old bull came outta' that chute, made about three spins to the right, then heads directly to the arena fence. Now, my buddy was leanin' more all the time when that bull was spinnin', so he's stickin' out from the left side of that buggar like a pair of longjohns on a clothes line in a high wind. That old bull knows he's got this ranny right where he wants him so he just rakes him along that fence, bouncin' his head off'a each post and if you would'a looked real close, I'll bet that old bull was a grinnin'. Well, about that time old bull changed tactics. He swung his hind end around to the left which just naturally sat my buddy up straight again, then he stuck his front feet in the dirt, throwed his Cow up in the air, and made a wild sideways kick at the sun. The result was, he tossed my buddy up in the air and then swatted him in the seat of his Levis with his tail bone and my buddy went airborne. Now, he landed on the hood of a ‘49 Chevy pickup that a spectator was sittin' in watchin' the rodeo. Them days those old vehicles were made of good, solid, metal, so he didn't even dent that hood, but it sure knocked him out cold. He was out colder than a pump handle on a winter day and a layin' on his back.            Now, those folks around there are mighty carin' people. He no sooner lit on that hood than somebody sat him up straight and another good Samaritan stuck a whisky bottle in his mouth just to get his vitals functionin' again. The outcome was they almost choked him to death. He started chokin', then coughin', then gagin', and all of a sudden he fell off'a that hood down between the bumper of that pickup and the arena fence and cut quite a gash in his head. Now, those cuts on the head always bleed like crazy and he's still about three quarters unconscious and just startin' to come to. He thought he'd been run into by that pickup and smashed against that fence, ‘cause he's hurtin' real bad and he can see blood runnin' down his shirt. Now, this feller is purty docile most of the time but that got his dander up and he come boilin' up outta' that space lookin' for the driver of that pickup. Now, here's this cowboy, covered with dirt and manure, blood runnin' off'a his head onto his shirt, smellin' like a brewery, and madder'n a settin' hen on a cockleburr. That crowd just gave him that whole side of that arena                    You can view some of Slim's work by visiting his web sit.                                      www.slimscustomleather.com                                                Slim McNaught                                                  P.O. Box 274                                       New Underwood, SD 57761

"The Saddle Rack" Lines from The Leathertooler Slim McNaught

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