WhatFinger


I would have taken $10 for that fleabag, but along came this woman with no money sense who is now the proud owner of the lyingest dog that ever lived: Slick Willy

Slick Willy



Slick Willy In barbershops, even the most sanctimonious listeners accept professional grade lying as entertaining tall tales. One day, while Larry the barber clipped the white scraggly hackles festooning my haggard old head, he related a tall tale, after which one of the waiting customers said, “Reed, you make a living out of lying by writing stories that never fall within the realm of truthfulness; tell us one that will top Larry’s.” “I’ll bet the cost of this haircut that he can’t,” Larry boasted.
The following story, roundly applauded by all, earned me a free trim. With a few modifications, the winning yarn was adopted from one told to me by my best friend and mentor Jaybird during my boyhood years on Dad’s Mississippi Delta farm. It was about a dog I will call Slick Willy, who according to Jaybird was a professional liar. After putting up with his prevarications for years, the old black man could take no more and planted a sign in his yard that read: TALKING DOG FOR SALE. “The next day, a severe-looking, scowling woman named Hillary pulled up. “Ain’t no such thing as a talking dog,” she snapped. “’Tis too,” said Jaybird. “Go ’round back — I’ll be out directly.” Unlatching the gate, Hillary was greeted by a bunch of mongrels … all but one, a brindled mutt snoozing in the shade. “Nothing but deplorable curs,” she mumbled. “Wrong.” Startled, Hillary looked around for the speaker. “Over here,” the voice directed. Amazed, she approached the brindle cautiously. Extending a paw, the dog said, “Slick Willy’s the name, and who might you be?” Hillary shook the paw, introduced herself and asked, “How in the world did you learn to talk?”

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“It started a few years ago when the CIA recruited dogs for its canine corps. The work was dangerous, but being a youngster eager for adventure, I signed up and was sent off on top-secret global missions in such far-flung countries as Azerbaijan, Pakistan, and Uzbekistan, to name a few. “Promotions depended on unique skills, so I taught myself to talk, and was promoted to top dog, with a hundred hounds working under me. “Since one dog year equals seven man years, I was guaranteed a secure retirement if I’d stay on three years, the equivalent of a 20-year human career. “Being as lucky as I am smart, I managed to survive my CIA contract and retire. Now I just kick back, enjoy life, and draw a nice fat monthly government check, funded by taxpayers.” When Jaybird came out, Hillary gushed, “Not only can that dog talk, but also he’s a world traveler!” “Lady, that prevaricatin’ pooch ain’t never left this back yard, but if you like liars, you will love him.” “I’ll take him off your hands for $100.” Chuckling to himself, Jaybird thought … I would have taken $10 for that fleabag, but along came this woman with no money sense who is now the proud owner of the lyingest dog that ever lived: Slick Willy.


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Jimmy Reed -- Bio and Archives

Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.

This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.

Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).


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