My Cousin Elmo says, “She might think my tractor’s sexy, but my dog thinks I’m perfect.”

For my wife and me, it started with a light rapping at our front door. It was Chase and Landon, both seven.

One child is small for his age, while the other is rather large for his. They wanted to ask my wife if they each could have one of her painted garden rocks.

“Of course,” Mary said.

They each selected one and quickly raced from our porch.

It was less than half an hour later when we heard two blood-curdling screams, “Wwwaaaaaahhhhh!”

Then we saw Landon, head all the way back, mouth open, screaming in terror and crying as he sprinted across our porch. A couple of seconds later, Chase followed.

“What in the hell was that all about?” I asked.

“I hope they didn’t hit each other with those rocks,” Mary said.

The boys disappeared inside their home next door before I could find out. A while later, my wife saw them standing on the sidewalk.

She asked what had happened. They explained, leaving out one small detail.

“Are you going back over there?” Mary asked.

“Yeah,” Chase laughed.

“Are you kidding,” Landon said, “No way!”

She came in laughing and explained the situation to me. I laughed as well.

Still laughing, I went next door to the neighbor on the other side of our home and asked what happened. Instead of telling me, Mike showed me.

He donned a rubber ‘hobo’ mask. I laughed even harder.

Then he explained that the two boys had been ‘doorbell ditching,’ their home for the past few days.

“I saw them coming around the corner and sneaking up the walkway,” Mike said. “And I decided to scare them.”

Boy, did he. And I’m still chuckling.

My Cousin Elmo says, “With the wind constantly blowing, Nevada will soon be the new Wyoming.”

At five, I was frightened of the school bus. I don’t know why.

My mother even watched me duck down behind a large log in the field we kids would cross, hiding from the yellow thing. Yes, I got a butt-whipping for that, but it didn’t stop me from being afraid or hiding again.

This time, Pa Sanders was working in his field and saw what I’d done. He was digging up the earth for planting.

He dropped the tines or perhaps the discs from the tractor and drove straight for me. I thought I had another licking coming, but instead, he had me get on the green and yellow John Deere and drove me to school.

On the way, he talked about how he never rode a school and how he and his sister walked to school. The two following days, he escorted me to the bus stop and saw that I got on.

The third day, he met me in the field near the log that I had hidden behind and told me that he’d watch me get on the bus. I did.

The following day, I got on the bus without any problem and never hid, needed escorting, or watched again. This doesn’t mean my anxiety about riding the school bus went away.

It means I was taught how to deal with it.

Last Friday, I saw a man with three children on his red Kabota, turning first into the middle school where two of the children got off, and then he crossed the roadway to the high school, where the last child got down. The sight left me beaming with a smile from ear to ear.

A friend recently held an Internet session where she sang an old ballad by Jimmie Rodgers in which he wrote about his losing battle with Tuberculosis. I altered the lyrics to fit today’s ‘ongoing plague.’ Many apologies to Mr. Rodgers…

Ol’ Doc Fauci’s trying
To make a fool out of me
Lord, that doc’s trying
To make a fool out of me

Trying to make me believe
I ain’t got that old COVID.
I’ve got the COVID blues

When it coughed down sorrow
It coughed all over me
When it coughed down sorrow
It coughed all over me

‘Cause my body rattles
Like a train on the V and T
I’ve got the COVID blues

I’ve got that old COVID
I can’t wear a mask
Got that old COVID
I can’t wear a mask

Got me worried so that
I can’t even sleep at night
I’ve got the COVID blues

I’ve been fightin’ like a small dog
Looks like I’m going to lose
I’m fightin’ like an old dog
Looks like I’m going to lose

‘Cause there ain’t no winnin’
Ever with the COVID blues
I’ve got the COVID blues

Gee but the graveyard
Is a lonesome place
Lord that graveyard
Is a lonesome place

Keep me masked when they
Throw that mud down in my face
I’ve got the COVID blues

My Cousin Elmo says, “If you think we got it bad, know that Kim Jong-Un has banned skinny jeans and mullets in North Korea and now they’ll never know the glories of the 90s.”

“It is at night, especially when the moon is gibbous and waning, that I see the thing.” — ‘Dagon,’ H.P. Lovecraft

Panic overtook the citizens of the tiny village the day following the night that the 14th-century clock tower became exposed. The town was hidden from prying eyes since the villager’s subjection to Nazi experiments before World War II ended.

(Pawtuxet Valley Gleaner) — Lake Resia, named Reschensee in German, borders Austria and Switzerland. The land was annexed to the Italians following the First World War. German remains the first language for many in the region.

For years the village people had worked the region clearing blockages that came from time to time, keeping the hydroelectric plant operating. Soon their secret would be exposed, and the world would learn that the villagers were the living form of a Great Old One and the final failed super-weapon of the Third Reich.

After the village went underwater, the lake engulfed around 160 homes. The residents were displaced, many of whom are living in villages nearby. After leaks were found, the lake was temporarily drained for repair work on the reservoir, exposing what is left of the village in South Tyrol bordering Austria and Switzerland.

And now their home was receding. Could villagers still breathe without water, their leathery wings carry them, and what of that waning gibbous moon?

Once arrested, John Ramsey confessed to participation in the murder of Roan. He said that Hale had promised him five hundred dollars and a new car for the killing.

Ramsey said he met Roan outside of Fairfax, where they drank whiskey together. Then Ramsey shot Roan in the head, though he later claimed that the actual killer was Curly Johnson.

Johnson died before he could testify.

Ernest Burkhart was sentenced to life and sent to the Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester. He was released in 1959, receiving a pardon in 1966 from Governor Henry Bellmon.

Bryan Burkhart turned state’s evidence in state court and was never convicted.

Oklahoma Governor Jack C. Walton ordered an investigation into the deaths of Bigheart and Vaughan, assigning Herman Fox Davis to head the investigation. After being appointed, Davis was convicted of bribery and later pardoned by Walton.

The investigation was left incomplete.

Osage County officials sought revenge against Pyle for bringing attention to the murders. Fearing for his life, Pyle and his wife fled to Arizona.

In 1925, to prevent further criminal activity and protect the Osage, Congress passed a law prohibiting non-Osage from inheriting rights. The government continued to manage the leases and royalties from assets.

In 1925, Police officer James Pyle asked the Bureau of Investigation (BOI,) the agency preceding the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI,) for help. They sent Tom White to lead an investigation.

Because of the perception that the police were corrupt, White decided the agents would work undercover. After two years, agents uncovered Hale’s scheme.

Hale persuaded Ernest to marry Mollie Kyle, a full-blooded Osage. He then arranged for the murders of Mollie’s family for insurance policies and the rights of each family member.

Investigators learned Ernest was poisoning Mollie. She recovered, and after the trial, divorced Ernest, dying on June 16, 1937.

In the case of the Smith murders, Ernest turned state’s evidence, naming Hale as responsible for the murder conspiracy. He said that he had used Henry Grammer as a go-between to hire a professional criminal named Ace Kirby to perform the killings.

Grammer and Kirby were both killed before they could testify.

Hale was convicted in 1929 for the shooting death of Roan and sent to Leavenworth Prison in Kansas. He was sentenced to life but paroled on July 31, 1947.

After being paroled, he spent time in Montana, working as a ranch hand for Benny Binion (of Las Vegas casino fame,) dying in Arizona in 1962.

Two lab rats were conversing with one another by their water bottle.

“So, have you taken the COVID-19 shots yet?” the one asked the other.

“No,” the second one answered. “Have you?”

“Not yet,” the first one stated, “I don’t think the human trials are over.”

“Well, better them than us,” the second one said.

“You got that right,” the first said.

Somewhere deep in their cages another rat squeaked, “Look busy, here come’s a White Coat.”

Rat’s scrambled everywhere.