By: Bill the Butcher
I want to introduce you to a person, or rather a group of persons that I have identified through expert study over the last few months. I call them the “Deedle race.” I discovered the first one in a supermarket checkout.
There I was, with my beer and cigarettes, behind this lady who apparently had three daughters. There were two, approximately five or six, and right between them was this darling little three or four year old.
Now, I’m an old man with a white beard and hair down past my shoulders so I always seem to catch the attention of children. I think I’m Billy Gibbons, they see Santa. So anyway, while the two older girls are trying to talk mama out of candy bars, the littlest one turns and looks at me. We lock our gaze. Slowly, imperceptibly, she turns her eyes first to one sister, then the other. And she communicated with me telepathically. “See these two? Nobody’s home! I’m the smart one!” I was transfixed! And then, she gave me a sign. She fluttered her eyes. Exactly three blinks. Deedle, Deedle, Deedle.
I was captivated, but there’s more! In the weeks that followed I discovered more Deedles! All sizes and shapes. Race didn’t matter. And they look like three year olds, but they’re not! They are, in my opinion, a race that’s been here since before time, brought by ancient aliens to be our keepers! And they all gave me the Deedle sign. Sort of a way of telling me, “We have chosen you. Now you know. Carry our message to the beings of this planet.”
Before you think Im crazy, I have seen the power of the Deedle. Let me ask you. Are you ever aggravated when you’re at the airport, and some cop comes along with a big mouth, useless dog who sniffs your crotch?
So, I’m sitting there at the Austin airport with a lady and a little girl beside me. (Wait for it!) Here comes Officer Grab Yo Ass with this dawg. He stops on occasion to check someone out. Always with the same warning. DON’T TOUCH THE DOG!
That gives you the impression that this beast is a killer! Highly trained to lunge for the jugular should you try to assault either him or his master. So you sit still, and allow this mutt to sniff your privates.
Well, after my inspection was over, the cop moved onto the little girl. Cute little girl. Had a little case on wheels. All excited about the airplanes. “DON’T TOUCH THE DOG!” He tells her. Then, suddenly, without warning, she leans forward, and rubs the dog’s ears!
I was terrified! At any moment I expected this mongrel to tear the child’s throat out. And I was a coward. I should have leaped between the little girl and the dog, but I was frozen with fear. But, then the most amazing thing happened. The dog collapsed!
He laid down on his side, tongue lolling out of his mouth, eyes rolled back in his head, tail thumping on the floor like a fool. All training gone, drug sniffing career over. The cop had a breakdown. He’s trying to scrape Rin Tin Tin up off the floor, but the dog’s like a wet rag, all the while fussing at the mother, “I SAID don’t touch the dog!” He’s holding this now useless sack of guts acting like Ol’ Yella just died or something. The woman calmly collected her child and got up to leave. As the little girl began to roll her suitcase toward the boarding area, she turned, looked me in the eye, and yes! Deedle Deedle Deedle. Live long and prosper! There’s power in them eyelids.
About The Author: Bill the Butcher is the purveyor of The Butcher Shop which is a collection of independent writers ranging from journalists to op/ed, from conservative to liberal. Whatever cut of literary meat you prefer the Butcher Shop is here to serve.
Also Read: Up Against Honorable Wall
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