by Slim Randles
You get them flu shots ever’ fall? I try not to, but Doc has this year nurse that’s not only stouter’n a streetsweeper, but fleet of foot as well. This year’s Windy, a-course. So, yeah, I prit-nearly allus get one a-them shots each fall.
But I been workin’ on a way to either speed me up or slow her down. Ever seen on them summer Olympicals the relay race? You know, when one guy’s runnin’ and he sticks out a stick and the next guy takes it for a while? Thass what that there nurse looks like in hot pursuit ‘cept it’s a hypothermic needle and not a stick in her hand. Now you know ol’ Doc makes fun a-me ever’ dang time she catches up. A-course, she could stand to run off a few calories here and there, mostly there. Truth be told, wouldn’t hurt me none, neither.
When Doc stops laughin’ he usually says, “Windy, I don’t think you’re any faster’n you was last year.”
“Nope,” I admitted, “but I think she is.”
Oh, I tried to talk Doc out of it. Honest. I told him I been particler good this last year and took my vitermins and minerales and drank my fruity juice and all that stuff. See, I figgered if he got impressionated enough with my diet, I might could slip away from Vampira for one year.
But it seems like somethin’ always happens to that there plan a-mine.
For example, Doc looked at me while Nurse Sprint was in the corner, sharpenin’ her needle and lookin’ funny at my fanny.
“So Windy,” Doc said, “you been drinkin’ your fruit juices.”
“Yessir!” I replied.
“Let me guess … was this juice mixed up with gin or vodka?”
“Well …..”
Doc nodded to the nurse. I didn’t even make it as far as the restroom door.
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