Jim Bob asked, “Are you going into Harrison today Uncle Floyd?”

“No, but we could go in if you need to go to town.”

“I have a buddy coming down from Minnesota. He’s driving his car, but I thought it would be easier to meet him in Harrison, instead of trying to find his way out here. I hope you and Aunt Belle don’t mind, but I would like for him to stay here for a few days, we want to do a little varmint hunting while he’s down here.”


“Jim Bob checked the old pump rifle to make sure it was fully loaded before he began to walk up the stairs.”


“I don’t see any reason why not, if your aunt has no objections.”

“That would be fine Jim Bob,” his aunt agreed.

“What’s your buddy’s name?”

“Freddy LeRoux.”

“What is he some kind of Cajun from Louisiana?”

“No, he’s a French Canadian from New York.”

“New York. You know what people say about French Canadians?”

“No, what?”

“The only thing worse than a Frenchman is a Frenchman from Canada,” his uncle replied as he grinned at Jim Bob.

Jim Bob was shooting pool with a good old boy wearing overalls and a beat-up cowboy hat.

“Well, looky here,” another good old boy with a mouth full of chewing tobacco said, as he and three other locals watched a tiny brown Italian car with New York license plates pull in front of the domino parlor.

“See you later,” Jim Bob told his pool playing buddy as he headed for the door.

Jim Bob shook hands with Freddy, as the locals looked at Freddy’s black and white striped long sleeve t-shirt, black jeans and black sneakers.

The locals guffawed at Freddy’s clothes and the fact that he weighed 115 pounds, was bald-headed and wore wire rim glasses didn’t help much. All of the patrons stood at the windows of the domino parlor and watched as Jim Bob rode away with the little man in the little car.

“So, what’s the plan,” Freddy asked as he puffed on the thin cigar held between his teeth with a wooden cigar holder, while he shifted the car into second gear.

People stared at the little car and the driver as they rolled down the main street in Harrison.

“I don’t know what to make of those stairs in the Bo-jacks. I have a feeling that something very weird is going on.”

“What are Bo-jacks?”

creepy woods.jpg

“Boondocks, woods, or whatever you guys call them up north.”

“Okay, I got it. What makes you think your aunt and uncle don’t care about these stairs?”

Jim Bob told Freddy about his conversation with his aunt and uncle on the day he had found the stairs and the way they just sort of ignored the whole thing.

“So how do you want to handle this,” Freddy wanted to know.

“Let’s play it like I told them. We act like we’re going out to shoot critters, and we can watch the stairs from the trees and see if we can find anything.”

“By the way, while we’re still in town, did you need to pick up some clothes for the Bo-jacks?”

“What’s wrong with what I have on” Freddy said as he laughed.

“Don’t worry Jim Bob, we hunt and fish in Minnesota also. I even brought my own over and under shotgun-rifle combination.”

Uncle Floyd was sitting on the steps of the porch when he saw the little car approaching.

“Belle, come on out here and take a look at this,” he called to her.

Freddy talked for ten minutes without stopping for air, and after they sort of got used to his accent they figured that he was all right. Freddy put on his best manners and within twenty minutes, he had both the aunt and uncle charmed.

They listened for almost two hours, as Freddy told his stories, some true and some pure bullshit.

“Well, we better turn in boys, five A.M. comes mighty early, “Aunt Belle told them, after she made a pallet on the floor for Freddy in Jim Bob’s room.

Uncle Floyd added, “It might get a little nippy tonight. Let me know if you get cold and I’ll send the dogs in to sleep with you.”

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