[dropcap]H[/dropcap]ave you seen my momma?” the boy asked.
The little guy was cute as a duck in a hat, wandering around the restaurant.
“No,” I said, with a mouthful. “What’s she look like?”
He shrugged. “Daddy says she’s pretty.”
“Nope, definitely haven’t seen her.”
I told him to have a seat. The boy had the gift of gab, he was so full of wind he could’ve inflated an onion sack. All he did was talk about his heroic deer-hunting daddy.
Boys do that.
“Is that beer?” he pointed. “My daddy likes beer. He drinks it when he’s hunting. He’s a sharpshooter, the deer are scared of him. He’s the best.”
Junior dug in his nose. “Are you eating deer?”
He wrinkled his face. “Like deer?”
“Exactly like deer.”
“Daddy hunts deer. He’s gonna take me hunting, we’re gonna pop a whitetail. He’s gonna let me shoot it!”
I sure hope everyone wears orange.
Just then, a woman toting a baby walked up. She swatted Junior’s hindquarters with a hairbrush. She threatened to flog him and bury him in the parking lot. Junior thought that was marvelous.
“See ya later buddy.” I high-fived him. “Hope you have fun hunting with your daddy.”
“His daddy?” the woman said. “Is that who he was talking about?” She sighed. “He ain’t never even met his daddy. That fool left us before he was born. My boy ain’t nothing but a liar.”
I grinned at Junior, whose face was red. That poor child isn’t a liar.
He just wants to go hunting.