Little Bit
© Jeanne E. Webster
“Did ya hear ’bout that lil’ole cheewawa dawg? He done went an’ nipped at Miz Smith’s cat. She had to shoo ‘em away with the broom.”
“Ya don’t say!”
“Yep, he sure ’nuff did. Yes siree.”
“Did he hurt the cat a’ tall?”
“Nah, jes’ scared it a mite, is all.”
“That’s good. I’m going to tell my maw.”
“Ok. See ya later.”
~
A few minutes later:
“Hey, Maw, did ya hear ’bout Miz Smith’s cat? It got chewed up pretty good by a shepherd dawg. It dang near bit its head off!”
“Ya don’t say, son! Did it hurt Miz Smith?”
“Don’t know. She rushed the dawg off with her walkin’ stick tho’. I hear she be needin’ a new one.”
“Well, my, oh my. She be mighty brave to do that. I gotta call Sally ’bout this dawg.”
“I’m late for the movie, Maw. See ya.”
“Bye. You take care now, ya hear?”
~
Phone dialed:
“Sally, you betta be careful when you go down Walnut Lane. There’s a rabid dawg down there, he’s biting folks right ‘n left. He done ate Miz Smith’s cat and dragged Miz Smith clean out to the street!”
“Lord almighty! I’m glad you called. I was jes gettin’ ready to go for my walk. I’ll jes stay home, I betta.”
“You do that, for sure. I’m gonna call Darlene and let her know ’bout it. She can pass the word up town.”
“Ok, Becky. Thanks for lettin’ me know. Bye.”
~
Phone redialed:
“Hello, Darlene. You betta be careful outside now, ya hear? There’s a big brown and white pit bull dawg out in the neighborhood runnin’ loose. It’s done eaten most of the cats round here and dang near made off with that lil’ Johnson boy. You betta pass the word on.”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure will. When my husband gets home, I’ll tell him. He’ll get the shotgun out and hunt it down. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. “
~
A while later:
“Gee, Lester, I’m sure glad you’re home. Get your gun out; there’s a big white wolf ’round here somewhere and it’s eatin’ everything in sight! Last I heard it was draggin’ a half-growed steer down the Dry Creek Road, slobbering all da way. Everyone’s run and hid in their house!”
“Settle down now, honey. I’m sure the police are taking care of it by now. Let me call ‘em and see what’s going on. “
~
Phone dialed:
“Hello. This is Lester Finch down on Maple Avenue. I just got home from work and my wife told me there’s a dangerous pack of wolves roaming around down by the Water Street Bridge. Have you got them under control by now?”
“There’s no report of roaming wolves in town, Sir. When was this supposed to have occurred?”
“A while ago, I’m not too sure when.”
“We haven’t had any calls about wolves at all. This morning early we had a call from Miz Smith down on Oak Street. She got into it with her neighbor’s pet Chihuahua. I guess it nipped at her cat but no harm was done. Everything is all settled down now.”
“Ok, sir. I’ll tell my wife it’s safe to go outside. Sorry about bothering you all. Someone must have made a mistake. Goodbye.”
(No parts of this story are true, not even the dialect or the dog’s name. This is purely a fictional character study on rumors.)
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