Chapter Eight: Junior Claims He Saw a Ghost

Well, Wallace finished his singing (or whatever it was) and looked pretty proud of himself.

“You said I couldn’t sing, son. What do you have to say now?”

“Oh g-g-gosh, that w-w-was p-pretty g-g-g-good!”

“Pretty good? I’d say it was much better than that. I’d say it was very close to a work of art, myself.”

“It w-w-was a w-w-work of a-a-art, P-pa.”

“There, you see? We’ve hit the same conclusion, and you’re right, son, it was truly wonderful, yes it was.”

“It was w-w-w-wonderful, P-pa.”

“Well, you ain’t lost all your marbles, and as long as you can still appreciate them old-timey songs, the trouble with these kids today is that they sing all this modern stuff and forgit that nobody has written a decent song since Bob Wills.”

“Y-y-yeah, I g-g-guess s-s-so.”

“Did you realize that Bob come from Buzzard, Texas?”

“Uh, uh, I think it w-w-was T-t-t-turkey, T-texas.”

“Turkey Buzzard, Texas, yes it truly was.”

“Oh. M-m-maybe s-s-so.”

“And I can’t stand that noisy so-called music with the loud git-tars and the screamin’ wimmen.”

“Y-y-yeah, m-me too.”

“Never could handle a screamin’ woman.”

“M-m-me n-n-neither.”

“Because, you see, son, a song like ‘Buzzard Love’ has real feeling. It was written back when buzzards was buzzards, and wimmen was wimmen, and love was love.”

“Y-y-yeah.”

“And it teaches an important lesson about life, and son, no matter how you slice it or what kind of bottle you put it in, life is still life.”

“Y-y-yeah, I g-guess s-s-so.”

“And it’s got nuthin’ to do with screamin’ wimmen or loud git-tars.”

“Y-y-yeah, and I’d s-s-sure like to b-b-be a s-s-singer, P-pa.”

“Well let me tell you something, son. Here tonight, in this very place, I’ve seen a change come over you. I’ve seen that good music has touched your heart. I’ve seen an uplifting of your taste in music. With these very eyes of mine, I’ve seen thangs I never hoped to see.”

“Y-y-yeah.”

“And son, on this very spot on this very night, I can foresee the day when you become a great and famous sanger!”

“Oh b-b-b-boy!”

“Yes you will, and I’ll sang with you.”

“Oh.”

“And I can foresee the day, Junior, when me and you go from town to town and from hall to hall, through the highways and the hedges, singing together the only good song left in this terrible old world: ‘Buzzard Love.’”

“J-j-just one s-s-song?”

“Yes we will, we surely will. And son, the crowds will come, and the people will come, and everyone will come from miles around to hear . . .”

I’d heard about all of Wallace’s noise I could stand. It was time for him to shut up. I had sat quietly through all that mess, and now I let out a big old loud snore.

“SKAWWWWWWWWW.”

His head snapped around and he gave me an evil glare. “Just what do you think you’re a-doin’, Dog, you’ve interrupted my, if you can’t stay awake, then maybe you ort to be taking worm pills!”

I pushed myself up. “I’ve got three things to say to you, Buzzard. Number One, nobody but a brick could listen to you very long without falling asleep.”

“That’s one, Dog, and you’re already in trouble.”

“Number Two, your taste in music comes real close to your taste in food. That was the worst song I ever heard, and if you just had enough time, you could put music completely out of business.”

All at once, Junior’s eyes lit up like headlights, and a big grin spread across his beak. “G-g-gosh, that’s a t-t-t-terrible thing to s-s-say, hee-hee, hee-hee.”

The old man’s head snapped around to Junior. “If it’s such a terrible thang to say, son, then how come it is that you have such a big smart-mouth grin on your face, you git that grin off your beak this very, and as for you, Dog, that’s two and you’re in even deeper trouble now.”

“Number Three, you birds are trespassing on this ranch, making noise and creating a public nuisance, and it’s my job to find out what you’re doing here. It’s strictly routine, of course, unless I uncover something suspicious.”

Wallace puffed himself up. “We’re here because we got lost, is why we’re here, and we’ll stay here until we figger out where we are, and you’ve got nuthin’ to say about it.”

“Y-y-yeah, w-w-we got l-lost ’cause w-we s-s-saw something s-s-scary, scary.”

“Hold it, halt, stop right there, freeze!” I pushed myself up to the full alert position. “You say you saw something scary on this ranch?”

“Y-y-yeah, it was a g-g-g-ghost.”

“Yes we did, we truly did,” said Wallace. “It was the ghost of an old man, and he come right out of that cake house yonder, and he throwed such a terrible scare into us, we got off course and crashed into these trees here, is what happened.”

I paced back and forth in front of them, studying their faces and sifting clues. “Okay, there’s only one problem with your testimony. I don’t believe a word of it, because I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Well, you just believe anything you want to, Dog, ’cause what we seen was a ghost.”

“Y-y-yeah, and this is H-h-halloween n-n-n-night too!”

“Halloween means nothing to me. We’ve got no time for such foolishness.”

“H-h-halloween’s the n-n-night when all the g-g-g-g-g-g, uh spooks c-c-come out.”

“Yes, and we seen one this very night with our own eyes, is how it happened that we got lost.”

“I see. Would you care to hear my analysis of your testimony?”

Old man Wallace narrowed his eyes and stuck his beak up in my face. “Pooch, after all the tacky and hateful thangs you said about my sanging, you have lost all credibility, and no, we wouldn’t care to hear anything you have to say.”

“Well, that’s tough. You’ll hear my analysis, whether you like it or not.”

Wallace pulled his neck back into his shoulders and covered his ears with his wings. “I ain’t going to listen, and Junior, don’t you listen either, we’ve got our rights, we don’t so have to listen to no smart-aleck ranch dog.”

“In the first place,” I said, “I don’t buy your story about seeing a ghost. What you saw was swamp gas.”

“Who’s got gas?”

“N-n-no, h-he said s-s-swamp gas, P-pa.”

“Well, if he’s got gas, tell him to quit eatin’ so much, it ain’t our fault if he makes a pig of himself.”

“In the second place, we don’t believe in Halloween on this ranch, so as far as you’re concerned, Halloween night has been called off.”

“He hauled off what? What’s he talkin’ about, son?”

“H-h-he said H-h-halloween’s b-been c-c-c-c-cancelled.”

“What does he mean penciled? I can’t understand what he’s talking about.”

Junior pried one of Wallace’s wings away from his ear and yelled, “C-c-c-c-c-c-cancelled!”

“Son, you just spit in my ear!”

I went on with my analysis. “In the third place, you’re trespassing on my ranch, and I think it’s time you moved along and found another place to loaf.”

“Another piece of rope? Who’s got a piece of rope? What’s he talkin’ about, Junior?”

“H-h-h-he s-s-s-said we have to l-l-leave.”

Wallace dropped his wings and glared up at me. “Oh he did, did he? Well, that’s fine with me, I didn’t like these dadgum trees in the first place, you just tell us which way is north and we’ll be more than happy to go find better company, which won’t be hard to do.”

“Fine,” I said, “and that will make us all happy. From this point on the ranch, north is directly across from south, to the right of east and to the left of west. Now move along before I have to go to sterner measures.”

“Never mind north and south, Dog, which way is out?”

“Follow me.”

I made my way through the trees and led them out into the clear. It was at that point that I noticed Drover had vanished—deliberately disobeyed my orders and gone to the porch. Well, I would settle with him later.

I pointed up to the stars. “There’s the sky, Buzzard, and here’s the ground. If you intend to fly, point yourself up. If you’re walking, stay on the ground. I can’t make it any simpler than that. If you get lost again, ask a ghost for directions.”

“W-w-we r-r-really did s-s-see a g-g-g-ghost, D-doggie.”

“Of course you did, and I saw a flying codfish yesterday afternoon.”

“You’ll be sorry, Dog, making fun of a couple of poor old buzzards who are down on their luck. Come on, son, let’s git out of here before that ghost comes back and makes this dog pay for his evil deeds.”

Wallace spread his wings and made a run into the wind. He got airborne, but took a couple of shingles off the roof of the chicken house.

Junior gave me a grin. “W-w-well, good-bye, D-d-d-doggie. P-pa don’t s-s-sing so g-g-good does he?”

I placed a paw on his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot to overcome, Junior. All I can tell you is . . . good luck.”

And with that, Junior went running and flapping down the road, until at last he disappeared into the night sky.

Well, I had cleared up that little matter and was on my way to the cake house to check it out, when all of a sudden I heard someone running in my direction.

Expecting an attack by coyotes or monsters, I whirled around and let out a blood-chilling growl.