“Late again!!” the third-grade teacher sternly said to Little Bubba.

“It ain’t my fault this time, Miss Russell. You can blame this ‘un on my Daddy, Big Bubba. The reason I’m three hours late is my Daddy sleeps naked!”

Now, Miss Russell had taught grammar school for thirty-some- odd years. In fact she had even taught Big Bubba years ago. She still had memories of him that would follow her to her grave.

Despite her mounting fears, she asked little Bubba, What possible difference can it make about you getting to school on time if Big Bubba does or does not sleep in his PJ’s.

Full of grins and mischief, and in the flower of his youth, little Bubba like his father Big Bubba was at that age were he was old friends with trouble. Yet she knew for a fact that neither had ever told lie. Not even to protect themselves.

“You see, Miss Russell out at the farm we got this here low down fox. The last few nights, he done ate six hens. Last night, when Daddy heard a noise out in the chicken pen, he grabbed his shot gun and said to my Ma, “That fox back again, I’m a gonna git him!”

“Stay back,” Daddy whispered to all us kids!

“My Daddy was naked as a jaybird — no boots, no pants, no shirt! To the hen house he crawled, just like an Injun on the snoop. Then, he stuck that double barreled 12 gauge shot gun through the window of the coop.”

“As he stared into the darkness, with a fox on his mind, our old hound dog, Rip, had done gone and woke up and comes sneaking up behind Daddy. Then, as we all looked on, plumb helpless, old Rip done went and stuck his cold nose in my Daddy’s crack!

“Miss Russell, we all been cleanin’ chickens since three o’clock this mornin!’

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