Bubba vs. the Werewolf
by Mark Wolf
Bubba stood up ta his neck in the tepid waters of Gator Lake.
July in Florida, where Bubba lived, meant 100 degree temperatures. Bubba loved the beach in the Summer as much as he loved little furry animals. And that were ta say: “a lot.”
Bubba's walkie-talkie under the shade tree started makin' noises. It sounded like Marcie, the police dispatcher and she were a sayin': “Bubba." Bubba decided he better listen in. He walked up out of the water, startlin' some tourists from some big city.
Bubba knew he were one big sumbitch. 350 pounds and still countin'. Everyone said: "Bubba; you one big summa' beach" a lot of the time. Bubba didn't mind. He made believe they were a sayin' Summer beach and he thought of the hot sun and the cool waters of Gator Lake and he'd smile at 'em and pick his nose.
Folks said: Bubba; you're one dumb summa' beach, too. That hurt, sometimes. Like the time Bubba and Jimmy Johnson was a standin' in Coach-Mayor Johnson's office and the coach said: “Bubba. You get my boy to the State playoffs this year and you'll have a summer job.”
Bubba remembered he'd said: “I don't drive, Coach. How can I get Jimmy ta State playoffs?”
Jimmy said a mean thing then. He said: “Bubba you're one STOOPID summa' beach!” Coach had said: “Jimmy!”
“Bubba, what I mean is if you play really hard in football and make Jimmy look good as a quarterback, you guys will go to State. I can make the plays real simple, too.”
And that's what Coach did. He ran two plays all year. They was called: “Bubba Stay!” and “Bubba Go!." On “Bubba Stay!”, Bubba would hike the ball ta Jimmy and knock anyone on their ass that chased Jimmy. On “Bubba Go!”, Bubba would hike the ball and knock anyone on their ass that got between him and the goal line. Their team had a perfect season and took State in their Division.
That didn't stop Jimmy from bein' mean ta Bubba once football season were over. A couple of times he pulled Bubba's gym shorts down in coed P.E. Class. It made Bubba turn all red and hide behind the bleachers.
But Coach made good on his promise. He asked Bubba if he wanted ta ride around on the orange garbage truck or be the summer dogcatcher. Bubba stuck his finger in his nose and thought about it. Jimmy called it: “massagin' his brain."
It were almost a no-brainer. Bubba thought he'd like ta ride the orange truck, but ta catch and hold furry animals all the day long were a dream come true. So he took the dogcatcher job and now Marcie were a callin' him on the radio.
“Bubba, you out there? Push the button on the side of the radio and talk to me, Bubba.” Marcie sure were nice. She always reminded Bubba how ta work the radio, cause he sometimes forgot.
Bubba pushed the button. “Heeeeeeeerrrrrreeeeesssss Bubba.” He'd got that one from sittin' up late at night a watchin' the Johnny Carson show with Grams. He could hear Marcie laugh back at the station for a few seconds.
“Bubba. Widow Simmons just called. She says somethin's been inta her chickens again, last night. Can you go see her?”
Bubba remembered ta push the button. “Sure. Just let me put some clothes on.” Bubba looked down ta see if his swimmin' trunks were still wet. There weren't any. Darn, forgot 'em again.
It took twenty minutes ta get ta Widow Simmons place on the other side of the lake. Bubba pedaled his old Western Flyer as fast as he could. There were a truck with cages for Bubba's job, but he didn't have a license ta drive, anyhow. Bubba liked his bicycle, even if he got lots of flats and rode on his rims a lot.
Widow Simmons come out of her little shack a wringin' her hands. She didn't see so good. But she knew Bubba's voice and always made 'im Berry Cobbler on account he liked ta visit her and talk.
“It were a great big dog, Bubba. Big and mean. I heard 'im and ran out with my shotgun. It were a snarlin' and makin' all kinda ruckus.
"Look at my poor chickens! The damn thing a tore' off thataway' when I shot my gun.”
Bubba looked at the bloody mess of feathers and the direction the Widow pointed. It were a mean one all right. That made Bubba sad.
Bubba didn't like ta catch the mean and bitin' animals cause that meant they had ta go in the chamber and go ta sleep. Bubba would hold 'em before he put 'em in and hold 'em for hours after he took 'em out and pet 'em as the fleas and ticks crawled offa them and onta him.
Then he'd take 'em down ta the lake and sit 'em on the shore and ring the bell on the post there. The gators would come a boilin' up out of the water and the furry little animal would be tore apart and gone, just like that.
Bubba followed the blood trail ta some old shack. The big old dog come outta the shack and snapped at Bubba. It were fierce, indeed. A snarlin' and snappin' and droolin' like it had the rabies. It nipped Bubba on the finger before Bubba managed ta squeeze it 'til it ran outta air.
Bubba tossed it over his bicycle handle bars and took it back ta the pound and put it inta the chamber before it could wake back up.
When Bubba opened the chamber there weren't no furry dead dog in it at all. A naked Jimmy Johnson laid in his own turds and urine. Bubba stood there and picked his nose and thought about what he should do next.
People knew Jimmy were mean ta Bubba. A part of Bubba knew that people wouldn't understand if he tried ta tell 'em that he threw a big mean dog in the chamber and Jimmy had showed up. There were just one thing he could do.
He took Jimmy out of the chamber and down ta the lake and rang the bell. Them gators made short work of 'im. Watchin' them gators sure made Bubba kinda hungry.
He scratched at the little nip Jimmy made on his hand and thought about chickens.
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