Fox-"hunt"!?

 

Fox-“hunt”!

 
 
Uncle Fred Pieper and my dad, Kermit Hoffmann, were good friends. Both were excellent mechanics and loved working on cars and engines so they had some transportation, mostly.

One fine spring night, probably a Saturday, the pair had been out and about doing whatever a couple of red-blooded American teen-agers could contemplate; on their return to Maeystown, flying down the hill coming from Waterloo, a darned old red fox ran out in front of them. They hit the animal, stopped to view any damage and found the carcass on the shoulder so they tossed it into the trunk of the car and proceeded on to Hoefft’s tavern where a rowdy group had gathered as was their want for weekend entertainment in the little burg.

The boys roared up to park in front of the establishment, gathered their prize from the trunk and waltzed into the bar tossing the “dead” fox onto the floor for all to admire.

The odds-and-ends collective of roustabouts in the conclave were whooping it up with jokes and one-liners about the poor old dead fox when the animal suddenly came to life, jumped up and ran around the room trying to find an easy exit.

Uncle Freddie told the tale with his superb story-telling ability going on to say that the human inhabitants of the space were running and diving and yelling and hollering, jumping on the bar top and tables and anywhere else they might find refuge from the reincarnated “deceased” fox.

He laughed at the remembrance and told the story many times, each recall better than the last.
 

I believe every word in every version!---Just Sorry!...I missed that Saturday night-adventure!

 

A Great story about some very fine Gentlemen!

 

My personal lament: Wish I had been there!

Amen!