Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Read online

  Praise for Richard Mason

  and

  Richard, The Paper Boy series

  Internationally known author Richard Mason has been favorably compared to Mark Twain by nine reviewers. His carefully crafty novels, written in the first person and narrated by a young boy, are for readers of all ages.

  The Red Scarf (August House, 2008): Eleven five star reviews on Amazon. Recently selected as the Summer Reading Program book for 317, 8th grade students at Barton Junior High School

  This review is from: The Red Scarf (Hardcover)

  This novel has some of the same feel as a couple of highly acclaimed novels set a hundred years before - Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. This one is set in Norphlet, Arkansas and features 11 year old Richard Mason and his sidekick John Clayton Reed. Much like Mark Twain's characters, Mason and Reed are young adventurers who deal with a wide variety of situations that are great fun for the boys as well as the readers.

  Although I am certainly not trying to 'dis' an American legend like Mark Twain, this book is almost as good as his two classics. If the story were expanded a bit, it just might top Twain's best. A Book for all Ages!, October 28, 2007

  “I would recommend it to readers of all ages”

  “The style of writing is reminiscent of Mark Twain and captures the readers attention from page one to the surprise ending.”

  “As the town's paper boy, and coming from a typically cash strapped family, young Richard is without the immediate means of purchasing this wonderful Christmas gift.”

  Lyin’ Like a Dog

  This review is from: Lyin' Like a Dog (Paperback)

  Lyin' Like A Dog is a well written and highly entertaining story of young boys growing up in the South in the 1940s….This novel has some of the same feel as a couple of highly acclaimed novels set a hundred years before - Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.

  “One of the best and most enjoyable reads I have had in quite awhile now was The Red Scarf by Richard Mason. Now comes this second book by the same author under the name of R. Harper Mason! Pure reading joy and bliss, I must say!

  Lyin' Like a Dog begins right where The Red Scarf leaves off, the day after Christmas in a small S.W. Arkansas town in 1944. Of course, you need not read `The Red Scarf' first, but I am glad I did. In this offering, even though it is a completely separate story, we find the same local characters we find in the author's first work. As I was rather fond of those characters, this read met my needs perfectly. The book and story have a very comfortable feel to them.

  The Yankee Doctor

  The Yankee Doctor "But as much as I loved the first one, The Yankee Doctor is far more exciting. I could not put this one down." Review by Betty Dravis, Silicon Vally, CA

  The Yankee Doctor - eBook “I just loved reading this. It was exciting, I could not put it down until I finished it. I love reading about small town Southern life. I will be reading more from this author. Give it a try - you won't regret it!”

  Lyin’ Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp!

  Three-Volume set.

  By RICHARD MASON

  Published by BWM Books at Amazon

  ISBN 978-0-9872723-2-4

  Copyright Richard Mason 2012

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  LYIN’ LIKE A DOG

  CHAPTER ONE - My Twelfth Birthday

  CHAPTER TWO - Checking on Uncle Hugh

  CHAPTER THREE - An Encounter

  CHAPTER FOUR - The Upside Down Funny Book

  CHAPTER FIVE - A Finger

  CHAPTER SIX - Indian Scouts

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Funny Book Blues

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Bootleggers

  CHAPTER NINE - An Unauthorized Camping Trip

  CHAPTER TEN - The Blood

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - The Funny Book Collectors get a Partner

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Homer Ray Schemes to Get Even

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - The Bull Nettle Battle

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Disaster Strikes

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Uncle Hugh

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Danger in the Swamp

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Getting Even

  THE YANKEE DOCTOR

  CHAPTER ONE - Family and Friends

  CHAPTER TWO - Doctor Carl and Miss Tina

  CHAPTER THREE - Trouble

  CHAPTER FOUR - Miss Tina, Old Man Odom…and a Bunch of Roaches

  CHAPTER FIVE - Roach City, USA

  CHAPTER SIX - We’re Even Ain’t We?

  CHAPTER SEVEN - A Paper Route Record and Old Man Odom

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Arrested

  CHAPTER NINE - Miss Simpson

  CHAPTER TEN - Miss Emma

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - A Call to Burlington

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Sniffer

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - A Call to Burlington and Old Man Odom’s Watermelon Patch

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Letters and Snakes

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Miss Simpson

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - The Plan

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - The Break-in

  THE DANGED SWAMP!

  CHAPTER ONE - Thanksgiving surprise

  CHAPTER TWO - Running like the wind

  CHAPTER THREE - Getting even

  CHAPTER FOUR - Betting knives

  CHAPTER FIVE - My birthday trip

  CHAPTER SIX - El Dorado

  CHAPTER SEVEN - The Bullet

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Prisoners on the loose

  CHAPTER NINE - Homer Ray and Ronnie

  CHAPTER TEN - Danger

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Uncle Spencer and Tony

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Dognapped

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - The summer revival

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - The scrap iron drive

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - The great escape

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - The Fourth of July

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - The bully

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - The new Richard

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - Danger …and big trouble

  CHAPTER TWENTY - Kidnapped!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Wounded and trapped

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - The return to school

  “I WILL DRINK YOUR BLOOD”

  THE VAMPIRE-WEREWOLF OF FLAT CREEK SWAMP

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  To the three-volume set

  The Richard, the Paperboy Series comprises six novels set in a small village in the American-south during WW II. The wild, funny, but sometimes touching escapades are told in a Tom-Sawyer-like style carrying the reader along on an emotional rollercoaster. You will certainly laugh, and may shed a tear or two, as you follow this poor paperboy living a hectic life during a very special time in American history.

  The first book in the series, The Red Scarf, was published by August House in 2008 and is in its second printing and is currently under a film option contract. This new three volume set of novels is the second, third, and fourth in the series.

  The series has garnered 21 five star reviews, and the new eBooks have individually been downloaded nearly 3000 times in the last 30 days.

  These novels are about the life of a small town paperboy. In the summer, he is barefoot, sunburned, and shirtless. Up at five o’clock to deliver papers, home at six to feed the chickens and mules, and them off with his best friend to experience another life adventure.

  There is something inherently charming about this innocent young boy, who always seems to find himself in trouble. He is not a perfect young man by any stretch of the imagination, but as he confronts life challenges and pratfalls, he will delight you and have you cheering him on. His complicated life gives yo
u an insight into an era that is only a memory. It’s a nostalgic read paced by newscaster Walter Winchell, who rattles out the news about the War. Radio shows, funny books, and picture shows are all part of this nostalgic trip back to 1944; a time when a young boy’s entertainment was his imagination.

  - Richard Mason, 2012

  ***

  From Lyin’ Like a Dog

  …..Heck, this whole thing was getting outta hand and John Clayton was pulling on my sleeve saying, “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Look what you’ve caused, Richard!”

  “Shut up, John Clayton!”

  Well, I didn’t have time to say nothing else because you could hear people shouting,

  “Blood! It’s blood! The water’s done turned to blood!” Wow, folks started hitting the floor, swooning or praying or just scared outta their wits. There was a rush up and down the aisle, and ’bout fifty people ran out of the church screaming like the Devil had got them, and Brother Taylor wasn’t helping none.

  “Brothers! Sisters!” he yelled from the baptistery, “The Lord has touched us tonight!”

  Then he held up his hands, which really did look like blood was dripping off them, and everyone could see his baptistery robe was red. My gosh, in my wildest dreams I never expected nothing like what swept over that church.

  ***

  From The Yankee Doctor

  “Ahaaaaaaa, a roach, a roach, ahaaaaaa! It touched my shoe! Oh, help! Do something, Constable!”

  Well, she danced a little jig, screaming like a wild woman while we watched, and then, well, I told you it was bad luck, we messed up again―we laughed. Heck, we didn’t just laugh, you know, kinda snickered, naw, we hee-hawed like a couple of old mules, while John Clayton pointed at Miss Tina and let out that funny little laugh of his that sounds like a chicken having a heart attack: “Eeeeeeee! Heeeeeeee! Haaaaaaaaa! Ooooooooo! Aaaaaaaaaa!” Dang, that was a big mistake because now Miss Tina flung them cigarettes straight up, hopped around on one leg, and yelled like the devil had a-holt of her, until Curly managed to step on the roach that had Miss Tina cornered. The rest of the roaches finally ran off, and Miss Tina stopped trembling and got down and started picking up her cigarettes. Course, Curly bent over to help, but, shoot, being somewhere near drunk as a skunk, he just toppled over and crushed about half of them. We had to grab onto the breadbox we were laughing so hard.

  ***

  From The Danged Swamp!

  ….Then things settled down and we were enjoying the ride that was scary but so much fun. Another circle and another and then another and another, and I started to feel a little funny. I looked across the aisle at John Clayton, and he was holding his mouth with one hand and the big furry dog with the other.

  Oh, my good Lord in Heaven above! No! He’s gonna throw up! And then I started praying, Oh, please God! Don’t let John Clayton throw up. I promise I’ll never miss Sunday School for the rest of my whole, entire life. You know something? God didn’t answer that prayer, ’cause I’d no sooner finished praying when John Clayton let loose of the big furry dog and grabbed his mouth with both hands. The dog just flew up to the ceiling and John Clayton let out a yell and at least a gallon of vomit. It was the most horrible thing you can imagine because when the little car came zooming down a big furry dog came sailing from the ceiling whapping you in the face followed by a spray of vomit…..

  ***

  Other titles by Richard Mason

  Visit www.rharpermason.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  My Twelfth Birthday

  September 23, 1945

  Shoot, birthdays, they ain’t no big deal. Ya know why? Well, let me tell you just what I think about birthdays―they’s just for rich kids. Yeah, that’s right. Heck, around my house it’s like they never happen. Oh sure, Momma’ll smile, give me a hug, and say, “I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Richard,” but that’s about it; and outside of an extra trip to the picture show or something real little, I don’t get nothing.

  You know, it seems like turning twelve oughta count for something, but no, not on your cotton-picking life. Yeah, I know it has to do with money—ha!—or no money might be a better way to put it. Anything around my house that costs money better be something to eat or wear because the Mason family ain’t gonna waste a nickel on stuff like a birthday.

  Well, I guess you can tell I’m kinda all bent outta shape, and I’m sitting around feeling sorry for myself. You guessed it―not even a cheap card or a ticket to the picture show this year. Heck, this birthday just about hit the bottom of the barrel. But, hey, it’s durn sure a lot better than my birthday was last year. Shoot, this year we’ve done whipped them sorry Germans, and just a couple of weeks back the Japs surrendered after we hit ’em with them atom bombs. Heck, me and Daddy almost had our ears in the radio listening to that famous newscaster Walter Winchell tell about the surrender. Shoot, he talks so fast I can hardly understand him. Every broadcast he starts off with:

  “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. North and South America and all the ships at sea. Let’s go to press…”

  Well,’course, that sounds real good and important like he’s talking to almost everybody in the whole entire world, so we really listen up. Gosh, when he said, “Japs sign unconditional surrender papers,” Daddy jumped outta that chair hollering for Momma to come in from the kitchen, and I was yelling like some wild Indian. Wow, that was something else. So I guess I really should just be sitting up here in the hayloft thinking about how glad I am that the War’s over. Maybe, but, well, oh, you know, I do care about the War being over ’cause them sorry Germans wounded my Uncle Spencer in the knee and nearly shot down my Uncle J. R when he was bombing ’em. But heck, it’s still my birthday, so why can’t I be glad about the War being over and still be all wrinkled up about not getting nothing for my birthday?

  Well, at least I’ve got some good friends and a real good dog. My dog goes by the name of Sniffer, ’cause that old skinny, brown hound just sniffs and sniffs and howls to beat sixty all the time, but, shoot, he never trees nothing. He’s just a real good friend, and when you’ve got a dog you can talk to and he understands you, that counts for a lot. Huh, don’t think I can talk to Sniffer? Shoot, all I gotta say is “Swamp!” and that danged hound starts howling like crazy. He’s ready to go hunting. How about that?

  ’Course, I’ve got a whole lot of friends and one real good one. His name is John Clayton Reed, and he’s a bunch shorter than I am, but he’s weighs about fifteen pounds more’n me. Well, I’m kinda tall for twelve. Yeah, and I look a lot like my skinny momma. There ain’t an ounce of fat on either one of us, and, heck, there ain’t that much muscle. Momma keeps telling me I’m gonna fill out, but every year she marks my height on the kitchen wall and then weighs me. Shoot, I’m always taller, but heck, I’m usually not more’n a couple of pounds heavier. Well, I guess it’s that danged paper route that keeps me thin, ’cause every morning I run about five miles delivering them sorry papers―wait a minute―I’m lyin’ like a sorry yard dog. I don’t run no five miles a day. Heck, I might trot for a while, but usually I just plod along, chunking papers at front porches.

  I work for old Doc Rollinson down at the newsstand, who got his legs all banged up out in the oil fields, and now he hasta use a wheelchair to get around. Doc’s always yelling at me for being late, but, shoot, why be on time when you got a danged paper route that don’t pay hardly nothing? Old Doc is really something else when he wheels around in that wheelchair with a cigarette holder clamped between his teeth, yelling at me for being late. Doc thinks that cigarette holder makes him look kinda like President Roosevelt, but he’s the only one who thinks that. Heck, Doc may be grumpy, but he’s still one of my best friends.

  But you know, there’s something ’bout birthdays that are kinda different even if you don’t get nothing. Today, after I got home from school, I went out to our barn and climbed up in the loft where I wouldn’t be bothered. Yeah, I just wanted to pout all by myself, but then I started thinking. Heck, the first thing I tho
ught about was that I’ll never be eleven again. Well, that ain’t no big a deal is it? Naw, but as I leaned back on a pile of hay and thought about all the stuff that happened while I was eleven it kinda made me smile, and then I got a little sad.

  Heck, there was some real funny stuff that went on around the little old town of Norphlet where I live. You know Norphlet don’t ya? Yeah, it’s just six hundred people still hanging on trying not to get sucked up by the big county-seat town, El Dorado. Well, it was a bunch bigger back in Arkansas’s oil boom in the 1920s, but the oil boom ended and folks just packed up and left. The little old town looks like a ghost town now, but it’s big enough for me and my friends.

  ’Course, not everything that happened to me last year was just things you’d laugh at. Heck, there was some upsetting things and some stuff that just scared the beejesus outta me. Well, most of the exciting stuff happened after last Christmas, and as the months passed things just got all wound up. Heck, there was times I thought me and John Clayton was goners for sure. Wow, some of them things were so wild you’d never believe them in a million, zillion years. Huh? You wanna hear about ’em―every little thing? Well, okay, now listen up, ’cause some stuff that happened might sound kinda made up, but it ain’t. Promise, cross my heart.