Tag Archives: Arkansas

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Are you done yet, Jimmy?

English: I photographed this picture from a pu...Are you done yet, Jimmy?

James R. Aist

When I was a young boy growing up in Arkansas, my family and friends were accustomed to calling me by the nickname “Jimmy.” This true story happened about 12-15 years ago, after my wife, Janet, and I had been married for several years. Sometimes Janet, too, would call me “Jimmy”, as an endearing form of “Jim”.

Well, one Saturday afternoon we were shopping in a mall in upstate New York when I sensed the urge to answer Mother Nature’s call, which she placed by dialing  2, if you get my drift. So, off we went to the little hallway tucked inconspicuously out of sight, where one could find the “Restrooms”. There I entered the Men’s Room and chose a stall on the left, just past the second stall where a little boy had encamped before me. We were the only two people in the restroom at the time. I moved into the third stall and began to take care of business, while Janet waited patiently in the hallway for me to re-appear.

About the time I was going to put the finishing touches on the process, a woman, sounding just like Janet, poked her head into the Men’s Room and called out “Are you done yet, Jimmy?” At this, I was both startled and dumbfounded. In an instant, thoughts began to race through my mind in rapid-fire succession: “Was that Janet? It sounded just like her. But why would she do such a thing? Should I say something? But what if it wasn’t her? Then I would be embarrassed. What would the little boy next to me think? Can I think of something clever and witty to answer back with?” Then, just as I was about to say something in reply, the little boy next to me called out “I’m almost finished, Mommy.”

In an instant, another flood of rapid-fire thoughts began rushing through my mind: “Man, that was a close call! Dodged a bullet that time. That was hilarious! Can’t wait to get out of here and tell Janet what just happened. Hope I can quit laughing uncontrollably long enough to tell her.” As I recall, she laughed harder that I did.

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The Hound and the Hare (Redneck version)

English: Pharaoh Hound trying to get trought t...The Hound and the Hare (Redneck version)

by James R. Aist

This true story happened when I was a young boy growing up in central Arkansas. We lived in a rural area and had two beagle dogs that we used for rabbit hunting. One fall day a large, red-bone hound dog showed up at our doorstep, and we sort of adopted him. Now mind you, these larger hounds are not particularly good for rabbit hunting, because they tend to try and outrun a freshly “jumped” rabbit instead of slowing down and tracking its scent (trail) with their nose, like beagles do. Consequently, after a very brief burst of speed, they usually will lose track of thebounding bunny and that will be the end of that.

Well anyway, we decided to go rabbit hunting one morning, and we let the red-bone hound tag along with us and the two beagles. Right away we got to a small brush pile at the edge of a small wood, next to some open fields. Well, the fields weren’t entirely open, as there was a woven wire fence down the middle. This was one of those wire fences with open rectangles about 4 inches by 6 inches, you know the kind. Suddenly, the beagles began to act excited and nervous, like they do when they can smell the scent of a rabbit in the air (the scent was in the air, not the rabbit, silly!).  Anyway, with a rustle and a ruckus, a cottontail rabbit suddenly burst forth from the brush pile and raced lickety-split across the field. All three dogs lit out after him, the beagles with their noses to the ground tracking the scent, and the red-bone hound with his head held high racing 90 miles an hour to try and catch him on the run. Now the rabbit was just small enough to dive through the fence without losing stride, while the red-bone hound was not. He was so intent on catching up with the rabbit that he didn’t notice the fence, so he just kept on going at full speed. And here we are watching this whole scene unfold before our eyes, knowing full well what was about to happen. We were already about to crack up laughing when the rabbit cleared the fence cleanly. Then came the red-bone hound, seeing only the terrified rabbit ahead of him. He promptly plowed into the fence, rolled up into a ball from the counterforce of the now-sagging fence, paused for a moment as the fence reached its maximum extension and prepared to fling him back in the opposite direction, and then went shooting backwards about 15-20 feet.

By this time we were howling and bent over with laughter, as the scene had unfolded exactly as we had anticipated. Not to worry, though, as the red-bone hound regained his composure after finally coming to a stop, picked himself up off the ground, shook himself off and carried on as though nothing unusual had just happened. It took a little longer than that for us to regain our composure!

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The Gas Bubble Boomerang

See the source image

The Gas Bubble Boomerang

by James R. Aist

This true story took place when my family was living in north-central Arkansas, near Batesville. I was in junior high school and had just sat down at the kitchen table one evening to finish my homework. The house was quiet, except for the sound of the TV in the next room, and I was alone in the kitchen.

Once I had become deeply focused on the lesson before me, I realized that I needed to pass a bit of gas, so I made sure the coast was clear and let go a rather small, silent bubble, nothing to brag about. I felt the bubble slip slowly up my lower back toward my waist and thought that to be a little strange. Well, what happened next was entirely unexpected. Just as I had felt the gas bubble move upward, it paused briefly and slipped right back down to where it had come from. I just shook it off as, perhaps, my imagination. After all, it was late and I was feeling pretty sleepy. A few minutes went by, and I felt the need to pass some more gas. But this time, I had thought about it some more and was going to pay more attention. Would the gas bubble turn around again and go back to where it came from? Out came the gas bubble, up it went, paused, and then, right back down again. Beginning to get alarmed, I said to myself, “Self, that just ain’t right, and you better look into this pronto, ’cause there may just be somethin’ going on down there that you need to know about!”

So, in a panic, I jumped up from my chair, checked to see if the coast was clear, quickly dropped my pants and saw one of those little black, fuzzy spiders fall into my whitie tidies and crawl away! When I had pulled up my pants and regained my composure, I allowed that if I had been the spider, I would have bailed out too!

(For more articles on TRUE TALES, click HERE)