JOHN WAYNE SLEPT HERE ( A Trooper Bob Tale)

             It’s been awhile since I written a Trooper Bob story, in fact it’s been awhile since I’ve been here.   I could say I’ve been busy but that isn’t completely true.  I could tell you I’ve been depressed, kind of like Duane in Larry McMurtry’s Duane’s Depressed.  But I haven’t taken up walking everywhere.  I could tell you all kinds of things but the truth is, I don’t know why I haven’t been here. 

              I have been spending a lot of time with Trooper Bob lately and every now and then a story will fall out of his brain and I have been remiss in reporting them here.  I know that man has more stories than Carter has little liver pills.  If you don’t know who Carter is or what little liver pills are, well GOOGLE it! 

              I digress.  Let’s welcome back the Chronicles of Trooper Bob.

           They sat in the old stone building.  The one where John Wayne had slept, where George Patton had smoked his cigars and written in his journal.  They had gathered from all over the state.  The border was in a state of flux and there was an uprising on the horizon.  The Colonel had given the order and they had gathered with their riot gear driven hundreds of miles and now they were waiting for word.  A gaggle of men dressed in summer wool DPS uniforms in the South Texas heat, waiting.  Some played cards, some read Zane Grey novels bought at the five and dime in Brackettville but most napped.  They napped because it was smart to grab the sleep when you could.  Tomorrow was unknown.  Heck and hour from now was iffy.

 

           Trooper Deal and Trooper Bob sat talking old times and telling tales.  Waiting for others to nod off so they could play a prank or two on the unsuspecting victim.  Sometimes it was as simple as the shaving cream and feather trick which would cause the newly shaving cream covered victim to come alive spitting and cussing while the rest would scream in laughter. 

           The worst part of the detail was the waiting.  The waiting produced boredom and boredom gave them way too much time to come up with new ways in which to torment the other. 

            The shadows were getting long and another day had almost passed when the bell clanged and they shifted from leaned back chairs and legs draped over easy chair arms.  They had been waiting for something to happen and now it had.  Chow time.  Trooper Bob eased off his chair and picked up his gun belt.   Strapping it on he also stuffed something in his pocket.  He wandered close behind the others smirking just a little

            “Hey, Hutch” cried Deal “I’m so hungry I could eat the south end of a north bound cow.”

            “The way that hamburger tasted at lunch it might have been all asshole” Trooper Bob replied.

            “Well I guess you’d know what asshole tasted like, you bein one and all” Byron shot back.

            “I’ll remember you said that, I have a long memory” Bob answered.

They filed into the mess hall and pulled out the metal chairs lined along the makeshift tables.  Bob made his way around the table passed the Colonel’s chair at the head of the table pausing just a moment to notice a nice cushion placed on the chair.  Guess old lead bottom had a delicate derriere he mused.  Then he moved on. 

            Colonel Leadbottom stood at the end of the table cleared his throat and in his best imitation of George Patton he gave his speech.  How in difficult time brave men step forward to do their duty.  He droned on and the men shuffled feet and fidgeted in their seats.  Their greasy fried chicken and instant mashed potatoes grew cold on their plates the gravy congealing in puddles.  Finally, he finished up and lowered his incredibly ample ass onto the chair.   PLFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT echoed through the stone walls. Someone in the back of the room yelled AMEN!   Leadbottom jumped to his feet huffing and puffing, he stormed around his chair.  Leaned over and with thumb and forefinger plucked a whoopee cushion from his chair.  The room erupted in laughter.   Leadbottom stormed out leaving his congealed gravy and soggy chicken.

Trooper Bob grinned knowing that the Ben Franklin sold more than just Zane Grey novels and Juicy Fruit.

            Night fell and the stars shone bright over the old fort.  Ghost of Pecos Bill and Skinny Jim Wainwright haunted the halls and watched over the troopers.  Snores echoed through walls and off of the wooden beams.  All quiet on the border. 

            The next morning the word came and the big yellow school buses started pulling up in front of the Officer’s Quarters.  The men roused from their beds cowlicks standing tall and sleep still in their eyes began their preparations.  The troopers shined their boots, cinched on their Sam Browns and pinned on their badges.  There were no jokes, no grab assing.  This was serious.  This was Poncho Villa serious.  There was a border war brewing and these men were the first line of defense.  They checked their cartridges and revolvers grabbed their shields, replaced their signature Stetson hats with helmets and moved out.  

            One by one they boarded the buses; the Colonel checked the names off his roster.  They were seated side by side, ready to do or die.  The Colonel cleared his throat and gave the instructions.  “On this auspicious occasion we must remember these are civilians, Mexican citizens.  Remember no violence unless necessary.  We are here to defend our citizens, never attack.  Keep your cool don’t let them goad you into a battle.  We are here as a show of force. I know you all have trained for riots but remember this is not training, men.  This is the real deal.  Now, does anyone one have any questions?”

            The men squirmed a bit not really sure what to expect.  The colonel made it sound so ominous.  Was there really going to be violence?  Was the joking around and hijinks over and now it was all business? 

            Deal raised his hand “Colonel, sir?”

            “Yes Deal?” the Colonel replied

            “Shouldn’t somebody stay back and defend the fort?” Deal asked with a straight face.

            “Shut up Deal and put on your helmet” The Colonel shouted over a bus full of laughter.

            Trooper Deal leaned over and whispered to Trooper Bob “John Wayne would have never left the fort undefended.”

Hook Line and Sinker

In honor of Father’s Day I thought I would share a new episode of the Trooper Bob Chronicles. I know it has been a while since I’ve had one but hey it has been a long time since I was able to sit down and squeeze a story out of the staid trooper.


It was last week whilst I was visiting with him that this story popped up in my head. I almost forgot about it but then just like a shooting star it flashed through my mind, and then it was gone. Luckily I awoke from a dream and the story popped back into my mind. This one if for you Trooper Bob, Happy Father’s Day.

Trooper Bob had worked all week writing tickets and saving damsels. He had herded a truck load of shook-up chickens off the interstate after the chicken truck had driven into the ditch and the fowl had gotten foul all over the road. It was finally his day off to do with as he wished. Nurse Meme was nursing sick people at the hospital and his lovely children were scattered to the winds doing what teenagers will do. Now was his chance to sneak off and do some fishing.

Trooper Bob went into the garage and under the discarded bicycles, skateboards and boxes of Barbies he uncovered his beloved tackle box. The one that his son, Buck, had to retrieve from the bottom of Lake Granite Shoals after he knocked it off the dock, open and full of brand new lures.

Bob loaded up his trusty white Ford F150 and headed out to his favorite honey hole. He arrived at the secluded little lake some 40 miles out of town and settled down with his tackle box, Zepco rod and reel and his bologna sandwich. He put his folding stool on the bank, tied his favorite Lindie lure to the line and cast it forth into the rippling pool. He sat down on his stool and took a bite from his bologna sandwich. He watched the trees bending in the breeze and the dragon flies flitting and fluttering above the water.

He felt the line go taut and grabbed the pole. He pulled back sharply to set the treble hook in the crappies mouth and began reeling it in. He reeled quickly toward himself and shore but failed to notice the big log resting just below the service. The clever crappie dove just as it hit the log and took the monofilament line with him. Trooper Bob sat his sandwich down on the wax paper wrapping and grabbed the rod with both hands to pull the feisty fish from under the log. He tugged and pulled and the more he did the more snagged the line became with the log. He jerked fast and hard and heard the all too familiar sound of the line snapping. He stepped back with the slack of the line and stepped on his sandwich. Trooper Bob let loose with a few expletives then sat down hard on his stool.

He looked at his ruined sandwich and sighed heavily. This wasn’t getting off to a good start he thought. He reached into his trusty tackle box and searched for another Lindie Lure. Not being successful he reached in to grab the golden shining treble hook from the box. His hand rested close to the stack of hooks and then he plucked a brand new one from its resting place. He tied it to his line and baited it with the worms from the dirt filled red Foldger’s Coffee can. He stood and cast it back out into the lake.

Bob sat and waited trying to enjoy his afternoon of freedom. He thought this was going to be a peaceful spring afternoon but the birds seemed to be a bit chirpier and the sun was a little too warm. He scooted his chair closer to the shade of the elm tree, checked his line and reached into his pouch of Redman chewing tobacco for a chew. He spat and chewed and sucked on the leaves and waited. As he began to relax he leaned against the tree and propped his feet up on his beloved tackle box. Just has his head started to loll down and to the side it happened. The line went taut and once again Bob jumped into action. He grabbed the pole and yanked hoping to miss the submerged log and land the fish.

Instead he pulled too hard and the hook exited the fish and flew straight back at the anxious angler. He raised his hands in an effort to protect himself from the glittering gold projectile. He ducked and weaved narrowly missing the projectile with his head but instinctively he instead grabbed for the line. He caught instead the hook in the webbing of the thenar space or what is normally called that area between your thumb and your pointer finger.

The hook wasn’t just stuck in the thenar space it was all the way through the webbing perfectly in the center. Bob swallowed forgetting that he had a wad of tobacco and felt a little light headed. He bent over and spat the rest of the tobacco juice out cussing and puking just a little. Then he sat back down on the stool and looked at his injury.

He reached into his tackle box and rooted out a pair of needle nose pliers. He pulled one way but the barb caught. Then he tried pulling the other way but the eye was too large. He tugged one way then the other but couldn’t budge it. He looked around at the secluded area and realized he only had one option.

On the drive back to town he dreaded what he was going to have to do. He went over it and over it in his mind and decided there was only one thing to do. He would just have to tell them about the one who got away.

Trooper Bob walked into the emergency room with his hand wrapped in his handkerchief. Nurse Goodgame met him at the door “what in the hell did you do this time” she asked hands on her wide starch white uniform clad hips.

Bob gave her his best sleepiest smile and replied “well I was out feeshing and me and this great big ole feesh got into a fight” holding up the hooked hand.

“Looks like the feesh done hooked you” she replied.

Trooper Bob thought a minute and replied “well you should have seen the size of that feesh!”

Give Me Land Lots of Land

This weeks Theme for Theme Thursday is Fence. As in “give me land lots of land under sunny skies above, don’t fence me in…” Now that I have given you that nice little ear worm that is what got me thinking about today’s story. I know you think I’ve had an interesting life but honestly it doesn’t hold a candle to Trooper Bob. He is a quintessential story teller and 99% of them might be true but all of them are interesting. He shared this story with me some time ago and honestly I don’t remember the names but I remember the jist of the tale and I’m sharing my version with you. So in order to get off the fence and get this thing done, read here then go on over to Theme Thursday and find what my cohorts have offered.



This happened long before Trooper Bob became Trooper Bob. It was back when he was just plain Bob. He had aspirations of being a lawman. He could picture himself a real life Pat Garret or Bat Masterson. He imagined himself riding the range wrangling cattle rustlers and bringing in the train robbers. He was a Texan through and through. He proudly wore his handmade Luchasse boots and sported his Stetson hat. He was always mindful of someday being a real life Texas Ranger.

It was a pretty fall afternoon and Bob and his buddies were trying to make it through Coach Blackburn’s math class. Their eyes kept shifting to the golden hue of the autumn day and what they could be doing if they didn’t have to solve for X. The bell rang and there was a great cacophony of desk banging and feet shuffling as Bob and his buddies ran down the steps and out to the parking lot. Sonny and Ted had already made it to the Dodge pick-up as the rest of the boys piled in the back. They dug in the cooler and pulled out some iced down Nehi grape sodas and few stray Pearl beers. They hooped and hollered as they bounced over the railroad tracks and headed down Mockingbird and out of town. They had their shotguns ready, it was Quail season, and they were going to go shoot something.

Ted shifted the truck and stepped on the gas as the boys in the back told stories and felt the rush of the crisp air on their faces. “Hey Mack, whatcha gonna do with that rope? Lasso a Bob White?” Bob yelled making himself heard over the roar of the engine. Mack sat on the side of the truck bed and spit out a thin dark stream of tobacco juice “nope, I figured I’d get in some ropin practice.” The truck left the asphalt and skidded onto the caliche road. The boys held on as they fishtailed left then right. Freddie pounded on the top of the cab “hey watcha tryin to do? Dump us out?” Sonny turned and laughed with a thumbs up then grabbed the wheel and pulled hard to the left and then to the right causing the boys to almost topple out. It was a great day and everyone was having a fine time.

Mack gathered up his rope, made his noose and began to toss in the direction of the cedar fence post which held the strands of barbed wire along side the road. The boys got into the rhythm of it calling “wait, wait, NOW!” each time Mack would toss the rope towards the cedar post and each time he would miss. “Well you ain’t much of a goatie-roper are you?” they would taunt. Mack would spit a stream of tobacco juice and wind up his rope again. S

Sonny watching in the rear view mirror poked Ted “look at that dumb-ass. Let’s slow down a bit and make it easier for him.” Sonny left off the accelerator and watched in the mirror as once again Mack wound up his lariat and made a pass.

Low and behold this one took hold. Mack watched in elation as the noosed flew from his hand and made a perfect circle around the cedar post. He watched with fascination as the rope unwound and became taut. Then they all watched as that cedar post held fast into the ground and Mack went flying from the back of the truck. They all hooted and hollered for Sonny to stop.

The truck came to a sliding stop with dust and gravel billowing upward. Bob and Fred jumped from the bed of the truck and started running toward Mack as Sonny got the truck turned around. Bob reached Mack first and found him picking gravel from his bloody face. “Mack, you aheight? You look messed up!” Mack shook his head side to side belched “I think a swallered my tobacky.” Bob dusted off Mack's hat and put it on his head “Mack, I think you better stick to ropin steers, them fence post are a little too honery for you.” Mack dusted off his ripped and dirty dungerees “Yep, they don’t give like a steer do.”

It is Theme Thursday and I just looked at my blog and realized I haven’t written in a week. I have been jonsing bad but I have been busy. I know you wonder what the heck could keep me away from you for so long. Honestly there is nothing more important than you. Well I have an excuse but it will have to wait until later because right now we must get out of park and put it into drive because this week’s theme is PARK. I know you know what to do. Read my story then click on the link back to THEME THURSDAY and go read all the wonderful other post. It is amazing how many different views there will be on the same word, Park.

Trooper Bob drove into the drive and slid the gear shift to “P”. He walked toward the house tired from yet another day of working the back roads and by ways. He unbuckled his Sam Brown and hung it in the closet and gratefully put on his well worn overalls. He knew there were a couple of little girls waiting to pounce on him.

He walked into the kitchen where Gladys sat at the counter doing her homework. “Hi Daddy” she yelled as she threw herself into him. “Whatcha doin? Whereyou been? Did anything funny happen today? Didju bring me sumin?” came rushing from his youngest daughter’s mouth. She never stopped talking, she even talked in her sleep. He laughed and grabbed her glass of tea and drank it to the bottom. “Naw, not much. Just a herd of elephants speeding out on FM603 but other than that a pretty slow day” he replied as he sat down the empty glass. “Hey” Gladys exclaimed as she picked up her empty glass and made her way to the tea pitcher. She carefully poured the thick sweat amber colored tea syrup into the glass and added water. She stirred the tea with a long silver spoon and handed the glass to her daddy “here have some more since you seem to be drinkin enough for them elephants.”

Trooper Bob took the glass and sat down next to her “whatcha workin on?” Gladys turned her big book full of numbers toward her daddy “fractions. I HATE fractions. They are soooooo lame. I mean it doesn’t make since turning numbers upside down and then figuring them by crossing out the others.” Trooper Bob eyed the book and looked at Gladys as if she had just spoke Martianese “yep, I guess they seem pretty lame if you put it that way but honestly I don’t know what the heck your talkin bout. Must be some of that new math.” Gladys took her number 2 pencil and scratched out a few more problems then stuck her paper into her notebook and declared “all done. What are we gonna do now?” Trooper Bob set his glass in the sink and looked out the window “guess we better get busy on that old Dodge out there. We ain’t never gonna be able to drive it if we don’t get it running.”

Gladys grabbed the step stool from the corner and scooted it toward the window “yep. She’s been parked out there way too long. I gotta run change into my play clothes then I’ll come help ya.” She ran from the kitchen before she could see her daddy shake his head and roll his eyes. He knew she meant well but she was like a bull in a china cabinet around anything mechanical. He walked out the door and onto the driveway where the old Dodge pick-up sat looking forlorn. He grabbed his tool box and noticed he was missing a screw driver or two. He made a mental note to check the plug covers in the house. Gladys had a tendency to screw and unscrew the covers from the wall. He grabbed a wrench and wiggled under the sturdy old truck.

Gladys hit the door running “I’m ready Daddy. What can I get you? Do you need a wrench? What size? Hey can I screw in the screws?” Trooper Bob jumped as she crawled in the cab and hit the horn. “Honey, can you go get me that left handed henway?” Now Gladys had been working on the old truck with her dad for several months and she had fetched hammers, tape, wire, wrenches, ratchets and washers but to her knowledge she had never fetched a henway. Gladys crawled under the truck got right in her daddy’s face and said “what’s a henway?” Trooper Bob bit back a snort and replied “oh a good one is about 6 pounds.” Gladys sat for a moment then he saw the light go on over her head “DAAAAAADDDEEEEEEE”. Bob finished replacing the oil plug and crawled out from under the truck “go get me that oil over there. We will fill this baby up then take her for a spin.” Gladys ran as fast as her PF Flyers would take her and grabbed the cans of oil. She lugged each one over to the truck and went back for the spout “okay Daddy, I got it all. Fill her up I want to drive.”

Once the Dodge was juiced up Gladys jumped on the big springy bench seat and planted herself squarely behind the steering wheel. “Scooch over Peewee” Bob told her as he climbed in the driver’s seat. “But you said I could drive” Gladys whined. “You can but I got to get it started up and work the pedals. You can’t see over the dash sitting on my lap much less work the pedals and see to drive.” Gladys knew he was right and relinquished her position. Bob fiddled and fussed and pumped the gas until finally the old engine roared to life. Gladys studied every move her daddy made knowing she would mimic each move. She watched as he moved the shifter from one position to the next and looked over his shoulder as he backed. She watched how he steered with the ball that was attached to the wheel, the one he called the suicide ball. She watched as he worked the foot pedals and glanced from mirror to mirror. She was ready. She could do this.

Trooper Bob stopped at the stop sign and signaled for Gladys to crawl over. She planted herself in her daddy’s lap and grabbed hold of the shifter. She nodded as he depressed the clutch and she moved it into first gear. She put one hand on the wheel and the other on the suicide knob as they eased into the intersection and she pulled the wheel to the right with all her might. The wheel barely moved. She grabbed the wheel with both hands and pulled with all her weight and still it barely moved. Then she took and deep breath and tried once again. Magically it began to turn. She thought it was from the extra muscles she was using then she saw that her daddy had helped her a little. She felt royal sitting up high in the old truck as they cruised down the road. She drove up and down the streets turning left and then right always with a little help from her daddy. “Hey we need to go pick up Matilda from the school. You wanna drive over there” Trooper Bob asked. Gladys looked up at him and replied “shoot yeah! Matilda will be so jealous that I’m drivin.”

They eased up to the school. “Just park right on over there in front of the school” Trooper Bob told Gladys as if she were the one really driving. Gladys held on to the wheel and turned and pulled and parked that Dodge truck right in front of the school house. She could see her sister and her sister’s best friend standing in the courtyard “Daddy, there she is. Can I honk the horn?” Trooper Bob saw Matilda look towards the truck and then away. “Sure go ahead. Maybe she doesn’t see us.” Gladys laid down on that horn and everyone in the school yard turned to look. Matilda looked stricken. She was red faced and began to run away from the truck. “Daddy, where is she going? I know she saw us. I’ll honk again just in case.” Once again Gladys pushed on the horn and allowed it to admit its obnoxious call. Matilda was nowhere to be seen now. Gladys was perplexed. Then she saw Matilda heading away from the school to the Park down the street. “Look Daddy there she is. She is going to the Park.” Bob started the truck and Gladys shifted into first gear the two of them working as a team putted down to the park.

There standing to the side was Matilda. She looked both ways then jumped in the truck. “Look Daddy let me drive all the way over here. Why did you run away when you saw us? Didn’t you know when you honk you’re supposed to come? Why is your face so red? Have you been runnin or something? Hey look see this thing right here? It’s called a suicide knob. Oh and see this the “R” means race and the “1” means slow and the “P”, well I don’t know what the “P” means but I got to drive. Hey can you look in the glove box and hand me that henway” Gladys said all in one breath. “Shut up” Matilda hissed “I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life. Everybody is going to think we are some kind of hillbilly or something. I can’t believe you picked me up in this nasty ugly old truck. I could have just died. DIED! Right there in the courtyard of Taylor Elementary School! DIED!” She sat back in the seat arms crossed seething.

Gladys looked at her daddy and then at her sister “what are you talking about? This truck in neato keen. It is just a little rough around the edges. You just wait until we get her painted up. She’ll be brand spankin new. What do you mean hillbillies? Like the Beverly Hillbillies? Movie stars…swimming pools, the next thing you know old Jed’s a millionaire, kin folks say Jed Move away from there.” Matilda started to get her color back as she watched her annoying little sister bounce up and down “Hey how come YOU get to drive” she asked. Gladys smiled “cause I helped Daddy fix his truck. I git to drive. Now can you git me that henway from the glove compartment? I can’t I’m busy driving.” Trooper Bob just watched as the older of the girls started rummaging through the glove compartment. Matilda removed papers and napkins and some little monkeys that they put on the side of your coke down at Kim’s Circus Drive-In. “What the heck’s a henway” she finally asked. That’s when Gladys and Trooper Bob said in unison “about 6 pounds.”

The Ballad Of Pepe Le Peu

Wasn’t it just Thursday? It honestly seems like it was 15 minutes ago. This week has flown by. You see we have been moving stuff from one storage locker to another. We are trying to consolidate and get all our stuff into one container so we can go get more stuff, but I digress. It’s Thursday which of course means it is time for Theme Thursday where once again the powers that be send out the word of which we should write. This week’s word is pet. I had a plethora of ideas and had all the intentions of sitting down and making up a really good story but I ran out of time to dream something up and decided that I would instead give you a Trooper Bob memory. Now my pets after you have read my musing rush right on over to the animal house of fun at Theme Thursday and read what each and every one of my fellow bloggaholics have written. Now I have to go and pet the puppy.

Was this night ever going to end, Trooper Bob wondered as he sat on Highway 20. He watched the trucks come and he watched them go. He didn’t mind working the interstate highways at least there was traffic on them. Sometimes he would get stuck out on a farm to market road and it might be hours before he would see a car if he did at all. He rummaged through his console looking for something to keep him occupied. It was summer and the window was rolled down bringing wisps of the freshly mown median.

The radio was quiet. It was just one of those nights he concluded. He started the engine and rolled out onto the blacktop. He cruised down the highway letting the wind and night air refresh him. He squirmed a little in his seat and wondered if he should have had that chili for dinner. His stomach rumbled and twisted. He drove on taking a Rolaids from his console and popping it in his mouth. He belched and immediately felt better. I’ll be fine he thought as he drove on through the night. Reaching down and taking a sip from the paper cup of dark black coffee he had second thoughts.

His intestines were now jumping and crawling inside his body like an alien creature. Trooper Bob broke into a cold sweat soaking his summer uniform. He closed the window and turned on the air conditioning full blast trying to regulate his temperature, which was going from the molten flames of hell to the icy brace of the Arctic in seconds. He knew this was it. He knew this was going to be his excitement for the evening.

He pushed harder on the accelerator. Now his speed was equal to his urgency. He flipped on the lights and wiped the sweat from his brow. He kept telling himself that the rest area was only another 15 miles up the road. He could make it.

He clinched his buttocks as tightly as he could still wiping sweat and now tears from his eyes. He glided into the rest area and right in front of the door marked MEN. He bailed from the vehicle knowing he had no time to spare. He ran still clinching as fast as he could into the stall. “OFFICER, officer!” he heard a cry. He couldn’t stop. Whatever heinous crime was being committed was just going to have to be committed or there would be something pretty heinous taking place in his drawers.

He barely made it to the stall in time. He heard a commotion through the open top of the brick out- house. It sounded like someone was trying to coax someone else to come with them. “Come on little boy…come on you know you want it…I have some candy for you…” He was stuck. He could not abandon his position but he could not let some molester take a little boy. He had all types of thoughts while expelling whatever evil had inhabited his bowels. What was a little boy doing at a rest stop in the middle of the night? Oh no, maybe he had been left by his parents thinking he was asleep in the back seat. He remembered the same thing had happened a couple of years earlier; it took them 3 hours to catch up with the parents. Maybe it was another child that had been living under a rock just like Gladys. He had to get out there to assist.

Finally he was able to rid himself of the alien life that had inhabited his guts and ran hitching belt and pants simultaneously. He ran out into the night to help the little boy who was probably frightened. Trooper Bob had experience with this, after all he had rescued Gladys from under the rock. He walked to the grassy area behind the little brick building and saw three large truckers all down on their knees. “What seems to be the problem here boys” Trooper Bob asked approaching cautiously.

A large man in khaki pants and white shirt with TEXACO embroidered over the pocket was the first to speak “Well theys a little dawg over there under that picnic table. We’ve tried jest bout everthang to get him to come to us, but he just cowers under that table and growls. Old Joe over there tried given him some of his left-over chicken fried steak but he just growled. The dawg, not Old Joe.”

Trooper Bob went and grabbed his big black flashlight and walked over to the picnic table. The beam of light illuminated a little poodle. The Texaco driver put down another piece of meat and started cooing “mere boy. Come on. You know you want it.” The little dog arched his back and barred his teeth, and then he sniffed and sunk further under the table.

The truckers were arguing. “He don’t like that meat. Heck knowing Joe that’s from last week’s dinner” one of them said. Another took a Stucky’s pecan roll from his pocket and sliced off a piece “maybe he’d eat this.”

Trooper Bob watched the pup for a minute or two and then he knelt down and kissed to the dog “come on, come here puppy.” The little dog cocked his head to the right, and then the left and listened as the trooper called to him. Then he inched low crawling out from under the picnic table and ran right into the troopers arms. “Well, I’ll be” was all Bob could get out as the little dog began licking his face and wagging his tail.

The truckers all turned to see the man with the badge and gun holding a little silver poodle. “Well, boss, looks like you got you a new pet” Old Joe exclaimed.

That is how our family ended up with Pepe Le Peu.

Trooper Bob Can You Tell Me How To Get To Seasame Street?

Many of my long time readers have read some of the earlier Chronicles of Trooper Bob if not you can go to my sidebar and click on the Chronicles of Trooper Bob and they are there for your entertainment. I haven’t written any Trooper Bob stories in some time and thought I would take this opportunity to reintroduce you to the wit and wisdom that is Trooper Bob.

It was a hot and humid South Texas day. The older Texas State trooper was seated at the desk going through young Trooper Bob’s paperwork. “Now see Bob, this should have been a form 3343 not a 3357. They don’t like it none when they git the wrong report up there in Austin” Homer declared while he shuffled through the paperwork. “I reckon it’ll be awhight though. You backed it up with a 1740 and that should do it for em” he continued as the door to the office opened and a blast of wet hot air filled the room. Bob put his chair legs back on the ground from where he had been balancing on just the back two and looked at the figure standing in the doorway. Homer spit some tobacco juice in the cup on his desk and looked back at the paperwork.

The large rotund visitor in a seersucker suit mopped his brow with his handkerchief and stomped toward the desk. Trooper Bob stood up hand on gun ready to back up his mentor. The man looked around the small office located in the basement of the county courthouse and said in his Boston accent “Is this the depahtment of pahblic sahftee?” Homer chewed his plug of Redman and replied “yup.” The visitor reached in his suit coat and removed a large folded paper. Trooper Bob wondered if they were being served court papers and his mind started imagining him and Homer gallivanting around Boston Harbor maybe even eating something exotic like clams or lobster. He craned his neck around the large man to see that it was just a road map. “Ah need you to tahl me the most direct raht to Cheecahgo” the visitor said as he threw the map down on top of Homer’s papers. The he put on finger on Texas and the other on Chicago.

Homer looked up at the man and decided right off he didn’t like him. He didn’t like that he let in the hot air. He didn’t like the fact the man smelled of Gardenas and spice. He didn’t like the fact that he had rudely put his big badly folded map on his desk and most of all he didn’t like his attitude. So Homer looked up at Mr. Seersucker Suit and then he took a red pencil and a ruler from his desk drawer. He studied the map for a minute then he took the ruler and drew a straight line from Sequin, Texas to Chicago, Illinois. He did not follow roads. He did not follow highways but just drew the most direct route from Texas to Chicago just like Mr. Seersucker asked him to. Then he put his red pencil and his ruler back in his desk drawer and said “there you go. That’s the most die-rect rowt.”

Mr. Seersucker stood there, mouth open, breathing heavy. His neck began to turn red then his whole face. Trooper Bob wondered if steam would start escaping from his ears and the top of his head would lift right off just like in the old Elmer Fudd cartoons. Then Mr. Seersucker leaned over the desk and spat at Homer “why you didn’t even follah any rhods. All you did was drawr a line! That’s just unsahtisfahctry!” Homer spat into his cup again, stood up to his full height and said “Mister, you didn’t ask about no roads, you jest wanted the most direct route and that is what I gave you. Now get the hell outta my office.” Mr. Seersucker stood there a moment mouth breathing. Then he snapped his mouth closed, turned on his heel and stormed out. Trooper Bob saw his opportunity and he grabbed the red lined mapped and chased after Mr. Seersucker crying “hey wait you forgot your map. Don’t want you getting lost!” Mr. Seersucker stopped and turned around and said “go to hell!” Trooper Bob didn’t miss a beat he threw the map on the front of Mr. Seersucker’s 1957 Buick and said “naw sir, this here is the way to Chicago. I can draw you a better map to get you to hell only I think they call it Boston on the map.”
I think this might be the reason men don’t ask for directions but women always give them.

Happy Father's Day

Today is Father’s day. I have to say I have a great father. He is funny and interesting as you have witnessed in my Trooper Bob series of stories. He is also pretty pragmatic. I can remember coming home all in a snit and him listening to my drama of the day. He would look at me with his piercing blue eyes, his mouth would curl up into a smile and he would say “Baby girl, what difference does it make? Just let it go.”

He was and still is very obvious. The fact of the matter is sometimes he is Captain Obvious. Take for instance the day that Matilda wanted to drive the tractor. Now I want you to picture an ancient big behemoth of a metal machine. Did you ever watch Green Acres? Do you remember the tractor that Eddie Albert had that would fart and pop and billow blue smoke? That was our tractor. I don’t know from where it came, I just remember it being down by the garden. We, as children, were enthralled with big machinery. This of course was our holy grail. We would crawl all over it, pretend we were plowing the north forty or harvesting the grain.

One day Trooper Bob offered for Matilda to drive the tractor for real. She was so excited she hopped up on the step and promptly grabbed the stack. That would be the exhaust stack, the hot exhaust stack. Matilda let out a blood curdling scream as she yanked her hand off the flesh cooking piece of metal. Captain Obvious ran over to Matilda and said “don’t touch that it’s hot”! Thank you Captain, she would not have known that if you hadn’t told her. Then to pour salt on then would he say “man you moved fast. It didn’t take you long to look at that.”

He in addition to being pragmatic and Captain Obvious was also a teacher. Oh yes he taught us so many things. I am able to scale a fish, bait a hook, pop the head off a game bird and cook a mean venison chili because of him. He taught me to drive a vehicle with a manual transmission and how to do a 360 using my parking brake and the accelerator. This is very useful if you find yourself in a chase and need to turn around and confuse your pursuer. He taught me how to hammer a nail without choking up on my hammer and hitting my thumb. He taught me how to screw down a tin roof and how to start a fire. He taught me how to change my own oil in my car although I avoid this at all costs. I am not the most graceful person in the world so you can just imagine what I look like after I have pulled the plug on the oil pan accidently bumping the container out of the way and ending up with it up my nose and down my throat. My daddy of course would be Captain Obvious in this situation and tell me “keep the container UNDER the oil pan cause that oil taste like shit.” How he knows what shit tastes like is another story.

So as spawn of Captain Obvious I would just like to state the obvious, I love my daddy. So here is my message to my daddy:
An unmistakable trait of every true genius is their persistent awareness of how much more there is to know. And an unmistakable trait of every true sage is their persistent awareness of how much more there is to love.
Loving you more today than yesterday, Thank you for being my daddy.

Trooper Bob and His Girls

Trooper Bob had moved to the Houston Area. He left his family behind in order to make a living. Gladys and Matilda packed their suitcases and awaited the trek to visit for their summer vacation. They talked about all the things they would and could do.

Trooper Bob arrived and spent the weekend puttering in his garage, sitting in his favorite recliner and listening to his youngest daughter prattle on for hours about whatever was on her mind at the time. Sunday afternoon arrived and the girls kissed their mother goodbye loaded their suitcases into the trunk of the big blue Belvedere. Matilda, just obtaining her learner’s permit, climbed behind the wheel, Trooper Bob took the shotgun position and Gladys lounged in the 40 feet of backseat all by herself. They headed out of town with a stash of Frito’s and candy.

Trooper Bob promised the two girls a trip to the beach. Matilda and Gladys, although they loved the water, had never set foot on a beach. They had never seen the Gulf of Mexico and most definitely had never swum in salt water. They didn’t know the dangers that lurked in the murky waters. Jaws, the movie, had not been released so the term “great white” meant nothing. He told them of daily rain showers and lush green yards that don’t have to be watered. He told them of a city full of bright lights and all night grocery stores. They listened to his stories eyes wide and thinking he must be extending the truth.

He occasionally would direct Matilda to pull to the right and allow the car behind them to pass or to pull into the local Sinclair station for a fill up. The trip went pretty smooth until they approached the outskirts of the big city. Matilda had never seen so many cars on one road at one time. Trooper Bob remained calm and talked her through traffic until the threesome arrived at his home away from home.

The girls were impressed at the size of the city but the most impressive thing was that he lived in an apartment complex. It was huge and had a swimming pool just outside his door. There were lush green plants all over the grounds and strange flowers that the girls had never seen before. Trooper Bob got his daughter’s settled in and explained the rules. They could go to the swimming pool while he was at work, but that was all. There were not allowed to walk around the neighborhood or leave the apartment complex. They obeyed these restrictions happily knowing that in a couple of days they would be taken on their very first outing to the beach.
The day finally arrived and the group loaded up the big blue Belvedere with lawn chairs and beach towels. They stopped and bought big floppy hats to screen their already bronzed skin from the seaside sunshine. They arrived at the Port Bolivar ferry to await the trip across the gulf to the island of Galveston. Matilda chauffeured her little sister and Trooper Bob to the gate to await the arrival of the next transport. The sign said it would be a 45 minute wait. The girls anxious to see the beaches and the gulf unloaded from the car and sat on the hood to watch the foreign process take place.

Finally the ship arrived and Matilda drove aboard. They waited until the ship was loaded then explored the decks of the ferry amazed at all the water around them. You see the girls were from west Texas where water is a rarity. It is a regular action of inhabitants of west Texas to look into the abyss under every bridge over which they travel to see if there is indeed water or just a dry gully. A roar of excitement will ensue if there is indeed water with statements such as “there is water in that creek”. The girls were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of water all around them. Then all too soon the ferry ride was complete and it was time to exit the seagull infested vessel.

They drove onto the island with the excitement of adventurers. The drove along the sea wall and on down past the strand. Trooper Bob informed the girls of the 1900 storm that engulfed the island and floated coffins right out of the cemeteries. He told of houses washed away and bodies floating inland. They drove past mansion houses were valuables were hoisted to the roofs to save their treasures at the risk of life and limb. Finally they drove out onto the beach and found a spot to park.

Full of trepidation and suspense the two young teenagers grabbed their hats and ran into the surf. It was everything which they had not expected. It was salty to the point of burning their eyes and stinging their newly sunburned skin. The sand was squishy and mushy and filled with creatures. They splashed in the shallows and got felled by the crashing waves.
Trooper Bob methodically and meticulously baited the hook on his pole. He put his hat on his head and waded out into the surf to fish. He located a sand bar about 30 feet out into the rushing gulf. He found his footing and cast out his line. The girls stopped their reverie to watch their father fish. They had fished with him their hole lives but never like this. They were curious as to what he would catch. Would there be giant sea catfish that could be deep fried and served with hush puppies? Would there be big mouth bass that would need no added salt. They watched and waited. Then it happened. Matilda screamed. She flailed about jumping and hopping trying to run back to shore but the waves kept sucking her back. She was high stepping and grabbing her little sister trying to pull her along with her. Then Gladys began to scream. Something had grabbed her by the thigh pinching like she had never been pinched before. Matilda screamed and started kicking at the surf. Her foot coming out of the water showing a blue crab securely fastened to her big toe. The girls high stepped and ran as fast as they could battle the surge to the shore where they collapsed on the towel.

The two collapsed in a frightened heap inspecting their wounds. Matilda looked at Gladys and cried “Where is daddy? I can’t see him.” Gladys searched in the direction she thought he had been afraid that the giant sea creatures had carted him away. All they saw was a hat floating on the surf in just about the spot he had last cast his line. Then they saw a hand come out of the water and grab the hat. Then the surf receded and they spotted Trooper Bob soaking wet, hat on his head, wet cigar in his mouth still reeling in his line. They watched in amazement as this was repeated several times over.

Finally Trooper Bob slogged his way to the beach where his daughters were waiting. They were hot, sunburned and hungry. He put away his fishing gear and toweled off as best he could. He walked over to the girls and said “I’m starved how about you?” The girls nodded in agreement. Trooper Bob gave them a smile and said “well, then let’s go eat some crab.” The girls screamed and ran to the car to hide. Trooper Bob opened the door and said “what is the matter? Don’t you like crab?” Matilda shook her head and said “only if it’s dead. Those suckers tried to eat me and Gladys alive. I guess we can return the favor.” Trooper Bob shook his head and said “it will be alright, these are dead.” The trio found their way to Guido’s and had a meal to fit a king, but not a king crab.

Car 54 Where Are You

State, county and city law enforcement often work together on cases. There are times when it is necessary to bring all these forces together in order to get the job done. The state of Texas is large with its counties often covering several hundred square miles. The men and now women of law enforcement often spend their entire lifetime protecting and serving that particular area. That was true of two men that Trooper Bob met early in his career.

It is often said that men who work closely together over long periods of time under duress often begin to think as one. They will move in unison and complete each others thoughts. Trooper Bob witnessed just such a phenomena.

Trooper Bob was still pretty new to the area. It was just before noon and the sun was shinning bright. There was a nip in the early January air. Trooper Bob was parked along side Highway 169 waiting for an errant driver to come speeding past. It had been a particularly slow morning with nothing much to keep him from falling asleep except the police radio chatter. He could hear all units including the two local sheriff deputies when they called in location or for traffic stops. The local deputies were two long time lawmen who had worked together for quite some years.
Harold and Elmer were like carrots and peas. They went everywhere together; they spoke a like and even looked a like. You could find them at the local diner every morning whether they were on duty catching up from the 8 hours they were separated. They were of one mind you might say.

Trooper Bob heard the crackle of the radio ever hopeful that there might actually be some excitement. He sat up turned the volume up and got ready to take down any call that might be coming through. “Quichshshshs…Harold where you at” Bob heard Elmer ask. “I’m over here” Harold replied. Quichshss, crackle “alright, I’ll be right there.” Trooper Bob adjusted the radio and listened. Wait! What? He must have missed part of the transmission. Harold never gave Elmer his 10-20, or better known as his location. All he said was “I’m over here”. Bob was confused. Where was Harold? How did Elmer know where over here was. Trooper Bob was convinced he must have missed part of the transmission and settled back down into his seat. He made a mental note to ask Homer his new partner about it.

Several days later once again sitting waiting for something to happen he heard the call come through again “Where you at” Bob heard Harold ask Elmer. Bob turned the radio up and listened intently to hear every word. “I’m over here” was Elmer’s reply. “10-4 I’ll meet you there” Harold responded. Trooper Bob sat looking at the radio. He had not missed it this time. He had heard the whole transmission. There was no mistaking it; Elmer had not given Harold a location. Yet, he knew exactly where to go. Trooper Bob was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.
“Homer” Bob inquired of his mentor, “how do they know where they are? I mean they don’t give locations they just say I’m here. Then the other one acts like he knows where he is. How the hell do they do that?” Homer smiled at his prodigy and slowly removed the toothpick from his mouth “well, I suppose they just know. Them boys has been patrolling together for now on 20 years. They just know if the other one idn’t where he is then he is where the other one would be.” Trooper Bob looked at Homer and still didn’t comprehend. He knew that women sometimes got those inner feelings like his wife would get. He had learned not to question those but to just follow them. He thought on that for a minute and decided that must be how it was with these two fellows. They had some of that women’s intuition. “Homer” Bob started “you ever been close enough to another man to know what he’s thinking?” Homer sat and studied his thumbnail a minute then he looked up at his prodigy and said “Nope, can’t say as I has. I’ll tell you something though. If I was ever in a fox hole with the enemy shootin at me I would want someone to be able to read my thoughts. That way we could both get the hell out of there. Two heads is better than one.”

Trooper Bob thought on that for a long time. He wondered about Elmer and Harold’s past pursuits and their accomplishments. He thought about what Homer told him. Then Trooper Bob came to the conclusion that Homer was right. If Elmer ever got in a tight spot with a criminal Harold would know just where to find him.

So where you at Trooper Bob? I’ll be right there.

Young Trooper Bob's Surprise

Today I’m going to tell you a story about Trooper Bob before he was Trooper Bob. He started out as just Bob. When he was a young buck he was sometimes called Bobby or R.J. but that isn’t what this story is about. This story is about Young Trooper Bob when he was in high school. Well it’s not exactly about Bob but about Bob’s teacher.

I was over at Coal Creek Farm and April was having an undergarment predicament. Well it brought to mind a story that Trooper Bob told of his youth. I will recall it for you now to the best of my abilities.

Bob and his buddy Sonny were two young rambunctious boys. They spent their days tormenting the teachers of the small town’s only high school. They would often hide in the boy’s restroom until class started then light the trashcan full of toilet paper afire. They would then run down the hall screaming “fire in the shit house! Fire in the shit house.” Their other favorite pastime was to again hide in separate restrooms on different floors. They would also enlist the aid of some equally mischievous girls to hide in their respective restrooms. They would all synchronize their watches and at exactly the same time as previously deviously planned they would all flush the big white porcelean stools. This of course would case a major flood complete with toilet water waterfalls down the staircases which would then flow out the front doors and into the front lawn.

One day Bob and Sonny were devising a new prank to pull in Mrs. Bell’s homeroom class. They were sitting towards the back of the class writing notes and making plans when Mrs. Bell entered the room. “Class!” She said as she pushed her glasses back up on her nose “be quiet. Class! Today we are going to learn about quadratic equations.” Bob not being in the least bit interested in quadratic equations wasn’t paying attention but Sonny turned toward the blackboard. Bob punched Sonny’s arm. Sonny turned and grabbed Bob’s Future Farmer’s of America jacket and started swinging it over his head. Mrs. Blinkie Bell turned toward the ruckus and said “Sonny, you stop teasing little Bobby right this minute!” This of course only made the situation worse with everyone having to sing out “poor little Bobby.” Mrs. Blinky Bell became flustered. She reprimanded the class again “Class! Be quiet!”

Here is Trooper Bob's High School. They closed it a couple of years ago. They said something about a fire in the shit house.
Blinky Bell then stepped back up to the chalk board. Now back in those days elastic was quite as stretchy and elastic-ie as it is now. It was in fact in the post war years and sometimes it wasn’t stretchy at all. It was about that time that Mrs. Bell’s stretch decided it was done and it popped. Her bloomers or as we would say today granny panties had been stretched to the max and decided it was time to evacuate the premises. Just as Blinky reached up toward the top of the board her drawers went south. They fell in a puddle around her ankles.

Blinky Bell however had been teaching for nearly 40 years. She had taught through weather, wars and now falling drawers. She very delicately and gently stepped out of her old lady panties picked them up stuffed them into her purse and finished her equation.
The whole class sat first awe struck in seeing their teacher’s under-things. Then they sat frozen at the sight of her putting them in her purse. Next they sat trying to wrap their brains around the fact that their sixty something year-old school ma'rm was now all natural. Finally it hit and the giggles started and they rippled through the class until even Sonny and Bob stopped their pestering long enough to take the whole ordeal in.


So to this day if you ask Trooper Bob what a quadratic equation is he will tell you that he’s not sure but it must be pretty powerful. It’s so powerful it makes you lose your drawers.



For your pleasure here is a little ditty about my hometown:



A duel was fought in Texas lately, by Alexander Shott and JohnS. Nott. Nott was shot and Shott was not. In this case it was better to be Shott than Nott. There was a rumor that Nott was not shot, but Shott swears he shot Nott, which proves either that the shot Shott shot at Nott was not shot, or that Nott is shot not withstanding.
Reference: April 1867 issue of `Printers' Circular

Shoot Low Sheriff

Trooper Ray was working on his third cup of the night. Trooper Bob had just fired up his first cigar. They were taking a breather from a shift full of drunk drivers. The honky-tonks were packed to the rafters and everyone seemed to be imbibing in a little too much of a good time. They were working Highway 181 between San Antonio and Floresville and it seemed to be a hopping area.

They were discussing the attributes of the new waitress at the diner and admiring their brand spanking new patrol car. All of a sudden out of the dark came a car careening down the highway at an excessive rate of speed. It was full of revelers tossing beer bottles out the window and playing that new rock and roll music way too loud. Trooper Ray sighed the sigh of a man who knew he would not be picking up his fourth cup of coffee from the new waitress anytime soon and flipped on the sigh-reen as he pulled onto the tarmac. Trooper Bob stubbed out his cigar and called into to dispatch “Dispatch this is car 76 we have a 10-55 on 181 we are in pursuit.” The translation is hey we are chasing a drunk driver and will let you know when we get him stopped.

The sigh-reen was blaring and the red light was whirling and they were right on that old Pontiac’s big fins. That is when they heard it. A loud pop. Ray looked at Bob and said “Those sumabeeches are throwing beer bombs at us. They are not gonna pull over.” Trooper Bob switched the radio over to public address so that it would broadcast and said “pull your car to the side of the road RIGHT NOW!” About that time one of the occupants hung a big bare ass out the rear driver window in response.

Trooper Bob and Trooper Ray were perplexed. Did these ingrates know with whom they were dealing? They were the law. L*A*W! Ray revved the engine and got up close to the insolent driver’s tail lights and flashed his headlights as Trooper Bob again made the request “STOP YOUR VEHICLE NOW!” Again the only response the trooper’s received was the universal sign language of the middle finger. The Pontiac sped up still driving at a dangerous rate of speed weaving from one side of the road to the other. Trooper Bob said “Ray we need to stop that sumabeech before he kills somebody. I’m gonna lean out the winder and shoot out his tires.” Ray looked at Bob and grinned “Alright I’ll get you up close and we’ll both shoot. Ready?” Bob grinned back and replied “Hell yeah! Shoot low though.” With that the two troopers pulled their weapons and prepared to fire. They reached out the window and took aim. They shot once, twice and finally ended up emptying their service revolvers. The car continued to speed up and slow down weaving from one side of the road to the other. The troopers reloaded their weapons and tried once again. Finally the car spun out of control and ended up in the ditch. The troopers were sure they had hit their mark and caused the final result. They exited their vehicle guns drawn and eased up to the offending vehicle. “Get out of the car with your hands up” Trooper Bob called to the occupants. One by one they exited the vehicle. “Damn Bob looks like one of them clown cars at the circus” Trooper Ray commented as the car unloaded. The drunks stumbled from the car and one by one surrendered to the troopers.

They loaded their catch into the backseat of the vehicle and accompanied by a sheriff’s deputy who took he overage in his car carted the partiers off to the jail. They booked the suspects, filled out their paperwork and headed back out to their new squad car to finish their shift. Sheriff Mack accompanied them regaling them with a story when he stopped cold in his tracks. “What in the HAIL happened to you boys car” the sheriff asked as he pointed to the bullet holes down the front of both sides of the hood of the brand new squad car. “Them sumabeeches done shot up your brand new car” he exclaimed. Trooper Bob looked at Trooper Ray and they both said “Those sumabeeches!” The sheriff spit a wad of tobacco and said “we’re gonna bury them under the jailhouse for that one.”

The two troopers got in their car and started out of the drive when Trooper Bob looked at Trooper Ray and said “You know we are gonna have to tell Mack that we shot our own car.” Trooper Ray sighed and said “yeah I know, but I’m gonna get a cup of coffee at the diner first.”

A Trooper Can Never Be Too Careful

A trooper can never be too careful. A trooper must be aware at all times. Most importantly a trooper must be able to react quickly to the situation around him. Yes these are all valuable tidbits to remember when one is a trooper.

Trooper Bob and Trooper Ray adhered to these idioms. As long time partners and friends they would often anticipate each others responses and actions. They would move in sync. It was often as if they could read each other’s minds.

It was spring and the wildflowers were in bloom. The bluebonnets had begun to cover the roadsides and the wild crimson clover was bursting out bright red. The light began to fade later in the day and with all these signs of spring came hay fever and allergies. The evening had passed with both men suffering through post nasal drip and watery eyes. They decided they weren’t going to press themselves too hard and were sitting at a quiet intersection wallowing in their misery. They had just started on their second box of Kleenex and were trying to decide if they wanted some coffee or a nap.

They saw in the distance a single small light coming up the road. It grew bigger as it advanced upon the two troopers. Ray mused that it might be a motor scooter but it didn’t sound like one. Bob squinted his watery eyes and said “Nope, I think that’s a padiddle.” Ray sneezed and said “A what?” Bob chuckled and answered “it’s what the kids call a padiddle. A car with one headlamp out. You suppose to kiss the person on your right when you see one. Buddy, I like you but I’m not kissing you. You’ve got snot on your face.” Bob turned the patrol car around and went after the one head-lighted vehicle. He turned on his sigh-reen and flipped on his red light closing in behind the sedan.

The driver reacted quickly and pulled off the side of the narrow road. When I say it was a narrow road I mean narrow. This was one of those roads where two cars barely fit passing one another. There wasn’t much of a shoulder and after the almost non-existent shoulder was a bar-ditch. You know what a bar-ditch is don’t you? It is the ditch that runs along side of the road. The driver got as close to the ditch as possible and prepared to meet the troopers.
Trooper Bob disembarked first grabbing ticket book, hat and flashlight. Trooper Ray being on the Ditch side exited carefully grabbing his flashlight and his handkerchief. Bob walked up to the driver door and shinned his light in the car. “Sir you have a pid, err, I mean a headlamp out. I am afraid I’m going to have to give you a citation.” The driver looked at the trooper and said “Sir I just had my head light repaired. I can’t believe it’s out.” Trooper Bob said “Well, it is and if you can show me your receipt I’ll let it slide.” Mr. Padiddle got out of his car and walked to the front saw his dead head light then came back to stand next to Trooper Bob behind the driver side tail-light. Trooper Ray was positioned behind his partner.

Trooper Ray was standing behind Trooper Bob when all of a sudden he felt it. One of those big goose egg snot bubbles building up in his front sinuses just begging to be released. He grabbed his handkerchief and let it rip. Trooper Bob heard what he thought was a car horn right behind him and instinctively dove for the bar ditch. He looked up to see Trooper Ray right beside him. “What the hell was that?” Bob inquired of Ray. Ray said “I don’t know I was blowing my nose and you dove for the ditch so I figured I should too.” Bob looked around and saw Mr. Padiddle standing by the vehicle looking like someone had just shocked him. He was jumping around looking back and forth at the two highway patrolmen huddled in the ditch.

Trooper Bob sat on his haunches then let out a goose honker of a sneeze. “That was you? I thought I was about to be killed or worse by a car.” Ray blew his nose quacking like a duck and said “Nope, dab wud jebst meba blowin myba nobes.”

So you see a trooper can never be too careful.

The Night That Brought Trooper Bob To Tears

I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that Trooper Bob is stoic and non-emotional. I will tell you he is one of the most even keeled men I know. Oh don’t get me wrong he gets mad and pops his cork, but honestly it takes a lot to get him to that level. He is a big jokester and looks at life with a great slant. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called with something that I considered a major drama only for him to bring me back to reality and ask me “What difference does it make.” He is also one of the toughest and most courageous men I know. I know I'm biased but I happen to admire and respect what law enforcement officers do everyday of their lives.

When he told me this story I have to admit it brought me to tears. So I am warning you before you read that this is one of Trooper Bob’s serious stories.

It was one of those nights that everything happened at once. Trooper Bob and Trooper Ray had a very busy night. They had served several warrants and made numerous trips to the jail to deliver their booty. They had just stopped for a cup of coffee and a donut when the call came that there had been an accident out on Highway 181. They got their coffee to go and grabbed a donut for the road and headed toward the location of the collision.

The troopers arrived on the scene shortly after the two vehicles had met on the dark road in the early hours of the morning. There was a family sedan and a truck both in pieces. Trooper Bob set up the flares while Trooper Ray went to inspect the scene. He was standing at the driver window of the sedan looking over the carnage. Trooper Bob wandered up to the passenger side of the car checking for injured or trapped victims. What he saw took his breath away. It was a whole family. A mother, father, and three children were all in the vehicle.

He sucked in air and wandered away from the vehicle to the bridge abutment. He sat down on the guardrail and began to weep. He couldn’t help himself. There was nothing he could do for this family they had all been killed upon impact. The truck driver had also been killed. Trooper Bob sat with his hands over his face until he heard footprints. He looked up to see Trooper Ray standing in front of him. “Bob” Trooper Ray started “did you see that little girl?” Trooper Bob looked up at Trooper Ray and saw the tears streaming down his face. “Yeah” Bob answered “she looks just like Matilda.” That was too much for Trooper Ray and he sat down on the guardrail next to Trooper Bob. “That could have been my family” Trooper Bob sniffled. “That IS somebody’s family” Ray responded. The ambulance and tow trucks arrived to find two big brave troopers brought to tears by a totally useless act of fate.

Trooper Bob's All Wet

I have mentioned on here before that Trooper Bob is quite the prankster. He was punking people long before Ashton Kutcher. Trooper Bob was notorious for punking the girls in his office and for that matter anyone and everyone.

He would sneak in under the cover of night and saran wrap the toilet then lower the seat and the lid in the women’s restroom. You know what would happen next. The women who worked in the office would come in have their morning coffee and Mother Nature would call. They would demurely excuse themselves to powder their er, um, nose. They would sit on the seat and let it flow when all of a sudden they feel the warmth of their own urine seeping back up between their legs. Yeah he’s a real fun guy!

Since yesterday was April Fools Day I thought I would share the story of how Trooper Bob ended up all wet.

Trooper Bob was out on patrol one day and had stopped a motorist for committing some violation of motor vehicle laws. He was about to enter his vehicle when there on the side of the road he spotted what he thought would be a great joke. He got his clipboard and a pencil and scrapped it up. Then he put this arachnid into a bag and began to smile as his shift ended.
Nurse Meme had a natural and an unnatural fear of scorpions. My mother wasn’t afraid of too many things but scorpions put her over the edge. Trooper Bob came home and rushed with his prize through the house calling out to his wife. She yelled back that she was in the bath getting ready to go on her shift. Trooper Bob brought this heinous creature into the bath and tried to offer it to Nurse Meme who was in the bath at the time.

Trooper Bob was dressed in the full wool uniform that the Texas DPS troopers wore at the time, gun and belt still around his waist. He lightly tossed the scorpion who had been relieved of his stinger into the bath with Nurse Meme. At first it did not register what had occurred with Nurse Meme but once it did there was a huge commotion. Nurse Meme screamed and reacted at the same time. She jumped straight up out of the bathwater and grabbed Trooper Bob by the neck. Then she pulled with all her might in an attempt to climb over him. Trooper Bob lost his balance and Nurse Meme gained momentum; within the flick of an eye Trooper Bob ended up in the bath with the scorpion and Nurse Meme ended up on the outside of the tub. My mother was not gotten the best of and Trooper Bob got soaked.

I Shot The Trooper But I Did Not Shoot The Deputy

Trooper Bob was a trooper for my whole life up until I was in junior high school. I remember being taken or picked up from school in a patrol car for most of my school days. I was always terribly proud of my daddy and what he did and I still am. He is a man among men. He is pragmatic, audacious, brave and funny. I attribute my love for reading, big band era music and cooking as well as my sense of humor to him. I have a special bond with my daddy a bond that only nearly killing some one will get you. You see when I was nine years old I shot my Trooper Bob.

Trooper Bob had been a DPS officer for almost eighteen years, he had been in gun fights and knife fights. He had been in car chases and foot chases. He had stood firm during anti-war riots and civil rights marches. He had hauled in killers, rapist, thieves and vagrants and had never been shot. Well that is until the night his nine-year-old daughter shot him.

Trooper Bob had just gotten a new partner, a rookie. The rookie’s name was Gary and he was fresh out on the streets. Trooper Bob decided the kid needed a home cooked meal and that they needed to bond over some Monday night football. We all had dinner and then my sister retired to the back bedroom to make some really important high school boy/girl phone calls. Nurse Meme was at work and my brother, well who knew where he was. Trooper Bob and Rookie Gary watched the game and drank a couple of beers. Then Gary spotted Trooper Bob’s gun collection. He had a pretty cool gun collection with some antique pieces that he had acquired on the job and some he had inherited from his grandfather.

We as kids always knew there was no such thing as an unloaded gun even though Trooper Bob tried to make a point of them not being loaded. The unfortunate thing was we had some meanness in our town. Trooper Bob had the mind set of it was better to be prepared than not had left one gun loaded. I had grown up around firearms and was not frightened of them. I knew how to handle them at least what I wasn’t suppose to do, such as point a gun at someone.

I remember this like it was yesterday. Rookie Gary was looking at the guns handing them to me and I was putting them back in the gun cabinet. He had looked at every one of the forty gazillion guns and was down to just a plain old 22 caliber pistol. He handed the gun to me and I went to put it in the cabinet only just as I turned Gary stepped out. He slammed into me and I started to fall. (Imagine this from they eyes of a nine-year-old. Everything happening in slow motion.) I saw the gun go up and I saw more than felt me grab the gun as I started to fall to the ground. I heard the report of the shot and I swear to God I saw the bullet as it flew toward my daddy. I heard him say “HOLY SHIT, I’ve been SHOT!” I don’t really remember anything after that until much later in the night.

I do remember I was convinced I had killed him. I ran into the bedroom where my sister was talking on the phone oblivious to the fact I had just shot our daddy daid. I shot him D.A.I.D. in the living room. She continued her phone conversation until I started screaming and frothing at the mouth saying things like “I KILT HIM! KILT HIM DAID” She put her hand over the mouth piece and said “SHUT UP STOOPID! What are you talking about? Who did you keel?” I told her “DADDY, I KILT HIM!” Now I don’t know what boyfriend she was talking all lovey-dovey to but she just hung up on him. She ran into the living room to see Trooper Bob with a dishcloth over his wound. She saw Rookie Gary getting to practice his newly acquired first aide skills. She grabbed me and started shaking me asking me what I had done. Then she wrapped her arms around me and held onto me like I was going to float away if she didn’t


I have been told that Rookie Gary rushed my daddy to the emergency room. I heard that they called Nurse Meme up on the sixth floor where she was the charge nurse and told her that her husband had been shot. She was confused because she knew it was his night off. She ran down six flights of stairs to make sure the E.R. nurses knew what they were doing. She charged into the room and found my daddy sitting on the gurney. She asked him what happened and he said “Well, Gladys shot me.” The whole hospital wanted to know what he had done to piss me off so bad that I would have shot him. He of course told them some cockamamie story. He made up some story about not letting me have ice cream or he had sent me to bed with no sugar sandwich. Finally Nurse Meme threatened to shoot him in the other arm. He figured he better not press his luck and he told her what really happened.

Just so you don’t go worrying about Trooper Bob. He is fine. The bullet went through the fatty part of his arm and lodged under his shoulder blade. Yes, it went all the way through his arm. Several years after this incident the bullet worked its way up to just under the skin and daddy had it cut out. He has a shadow box of all of his accomplishments as a trooper and in the center of this shadow box is the ONLY bullet that entered his body. The only time in twenty years of service that he was shot was from his nine year old daughter.

This is my theory why Trooper Bob and I have a special bond. I mean nothing says “I Love You Daddy” like a 22 caliber hollow point in the shoulder blade.