Volume 8 , Issue 28

Another Pop City Story - Oklahoma...

by Ken Updike

1943 '44 St. Louis, Pop City, Okla. A couple of funny stories. We raised our own meat here. (Remember this is during WWII) Just as we had done in Kansas. My Uncle Roy lived in Seminole. Not to far from where we lived.
      When our hogs got big enough to butcher, Daddy had arranged with "Unk" (MY Uncle Roy) to come help slaughter hogs. When he arrived Daddy had got his little single shot rifle to shoot the hogs in the head.

Unk said no need to waste a bullet, shells were hard to come by during WWII. He allowed he could knock them in the head with a ball peen hammer and crack their skull, slit their throat and it was all over with.

Well he got astraddle of one hog, and had the hog's head between his legs. He drawed back and hit the hog right between the eyes. The hog started running around the pen with Unk Roy laying on his back hollering at Daddy "SHOOT HIM PEARL, SHOOT HIM PEARL." (My dad's given name was Pearl and I was named after him.) Daddy and I were laughing so hard we couldn't do anything. Finally, Unk Roy fell off, Daddy raised his rifle, shot, and dropped the hog in his tracks. Daddy "wasted" another shell on the second hog too.

All during the processing of the hogs, Unk Roy never said a thing.

Second story... not so funny at the time but it is now. I had got a new Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas or birthday. It was not a very true shot, and hard to keep in adjustment.

Most of the time you allowed for the shot and hoped you would hit what you were aiming at. I don't think I ever killed a sparrow with it. But not because I didn't try.

One day out in the back yard, mother had her chickens cooped up when I drew down on a rooster and shot. Bam he hit the ground and started flopping around.

Boy did I get scared that I had killed one of mother's chickens. Finally the rooster got up on his feet ruffled out his feathers and started walking around. Was I ever relieved.

Some time later after that we were having chicken for dinner. I always liked the neck piece and of course I got it. Lo and behold as I was eating this neck piece, a BB fell out of it that looked as big as a softball to me.
      God sure looked after me that day because no one saw it but me.

I don't think I ever told this to Mother or Daddy. Because I was so ashamed. Daddy always told me never to aim at anything I didn't intend to shoot. I guess I intended to shoot that rooster.
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