A Cherry Cracker Catastrophe

My boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird agreed with Miss Lena about the motor scooter. “Yo’ mama is right,” he said. “Paying two hundred dollars for a scooter is foolish.” Then, after thinking a bit, he said, “However, if you justify needing it instead of just wanting it, she might feel differently, and I will, too. Find a job, repay the money she loans you, and prove that you know the value of a hard-earned dollar.” In time I found a job riding the scooter while earning money to pay for it: an after-school newspaper route. Everything went great on the first run until I tossed a paper in a driveway that awakened a ferocious Rottweiler named Attila from his afternoon nap. By the time the scooter gained enough speed to escape, the enraged dog was within a jaw snap of clamping down on my leg.

When I told my pal Jake, who disliked dogs, he had a solution. “Let me ride on the next run, and that dog won’t chase the scooter again,” he said. His diabolical plan involved using a homemade bomb. Back then, the most powerful fireworks were bright red balls called cherry crackers. Jake decided that one cherry cracker wouldn’t be devastating enough, so he used the powder from three of them to make what he called a mega-bomb, wrapped in duct tape. “When Attila attacks, turn down the side street beside his owner’s house,” Jake instructed. “I’ll light the fuse, let it burn until it almost ignites the powder, and toss it toward him when he gets close.” Although I love animals, especially dogs, and wanted only to frighten the Rottweiler, not hurt him, I reluctantly went along with the plan after Jake, who had no qualms about injuring Attila, persuaded me that the bomb would do no bodily damage, but would scare the dog so badly that he’d never chase the scooter again. A bunch of our schoolmates hid on the side street to watch the event. Sure enough, as soon as we approached the house, the raging Rottweiler sprang into action. When I turned on the side street, the dog’s saliva-dripping fangs were inches from sinking into flesh. Gripping the bomb in one hand, Jake lit the fuse and let it burn to within seconds of igniting. Duct tape is sticky and tenacious, as the mad bomber learned a little too late. A loose flap of the tape had fastened to his shirtsleeve. In his haste to un-stick the tape and avoid serious injury, Jake forgot to hold on, and off he fell. Fortunately, bomb and hand separated before the explosion, which showered boy and dog with harmless shrapnel. The mighty Attila stopped chasing the scooter, and Jake, with body and ego bruised, lost interest in harming dogs. When I told Jaybird what happened, he laughed and said, “For you, the dog, and Jake, that experience turned out to be just the opposite of what it might have been: a cherry cracker catastrophe.”

This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s upcoming book, entitled The Jaybird Tales. The book will be available before the holiday season. Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (jimmycecilreedjr@gmail.com).

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. Other books by Jimmy Reed include 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)).