"I remember when I was younger and I had this horse run through a barb wire fence with me on it. It cut me pretty bad and I was bleedin' a little bit. I went in the house and my dad told me drop my britches. I told 'im I was alright, but the second time he said it, he had that look in his eyes, ya know? The one you don't say no to twice. Anyway, I dropped my pants and he said, 'Yep, that's gonna need stitchin', so my ma walks into the other room to grab her sewing stuff. She grabbed the same needle she used ta mend m' britches. My dad got a pair of pliers and put that needle over tha stovetop there, got it redhot and then bent it into a u-shape. No anesthesia, no nuthin', she put atleast 10 stitches into m' leg while I set at the kitchen table."
Gaping mouths were the only audience we could provide.
"So ya see, that doc workin' on m' face weren't no different for me than that barb wire."
"You probably taught that horse a lesson, huh?" I asked.
"Nah, he was tore up pretty good 'imself, I had ta put stitches in 'im myself. But I did have ta tame some wild bronc's on other days...."
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home