The Fibber's Club
Remembrances of Boys Growing Up in the Thirties
by
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New Year' Eve. 1933
Chillicothe, Mo.
“Hurry, his legs are stiffening up!” Frank’s voice was full of panic.
“They were that way just after you hit him.” said Max, while he tried to wrap the still warm body in an Oriental rug runner. The rug usually lay in front of the big three-way mirror at Nate Smith’s Haberdashery Shop.
“I didn’t hit him! I told you, I just slapped at him with the fly swatter and hit the counter beside him. He was starting to eat the damn tissue paper and I didn’t want to go through that again! Damn! Remember what a mess that was the last time?” The dapper Frank Finsture was clearly upset.
“Well, I think if you would have put your mouth on Buster’s and tried to blow air into it the way I said, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Max said, as he tried different ways to wrap Buster in the runner. Max’s remark snapped Frank to attention. With his mouth wide open, he sucked in his breath, stomped his foot, and bugged his eyes. His hands flew into the air above his head, and then shot to his hips.
“My mouth on Buster’s mouth? My God, man! Don’t you know what he does with his tongue?” Frank had been helping Max with the rug-wrapping. Max let go of the rug and pointed his finger accusingly at Frank.
“You shouldn’t have tried to hang him and hit him on his back.”
“I wasn’t trying to hang him. I was trying to get him to breathe. You know, like they do to babies.” Frank was imitating the actions of a doctor with a newborn, holding the baby upside down by the ankles. Then, Frank gave the make-believe baby a smart smack on the back.
“But that’s not what you did, Frank! You grabbed him by the collar and held him up high while you were hitting him in the back.”
“Well, the little shit’s front legs were too short, and I sure as hell didn’t want to see that ass of his if I had to hold up his back legs.”
“Damn, this rug isn’t going to work,” muttered Max. The rug fell away exposing the body of the small brown pug dog. He wore a bright red collar with the name, 'Buster,' engraved on the brass plate. The dog lay on his back with all four legs straight up in the air.
“We have to get him to the Vet, NOW,” shouted Frank.
“Frank! He is DEAD! D-E-A-D! The Vet isn’t going to help him.”
“But we have to try. What am I going to tell Uncle Nate about Buster?”
“Hey, you guys, it’s time to close up shop,” called a voice from the front of the store. “I just sent old Mr. Adams home with some new B.V.D.s to show off to his wife. He said he always buys the one-piece kind, you know, the union suits. Now! It’s New Year’s Eve. We can PARTEE!” J.C. Poole parted the curtains that concealed the back room from the front of the store. “Oh, my God! What happened to Buster?”
“Frank killed him,” Max replied, reaching for the tissue paper (Buster’s favorite kind.)
“I did NOT KILL Buster! He must have had a stroke or something.” Frank was trying to explain to J.C. exactly what had happened. Max winked at J.C. and went on to tell his version of the story about the dog’s death. Meanwhile, Max was wrapping Buster in tissue paper as you would a present.
“Why are you wrapping him up?”
“Frank doesn’t want anyone to see Buster dead. I don’t see what difference it makes, myself.”
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About the Book
It is 1984 in a used car lot in Chillicothe, Missouri, as a group of old fibbers share stories of their good times and misadventures while growing up together in small town America during the 1930s. As Max and his aging buddies play cards and swap tales, they all agree that there’s nothing like stories of the good old days.
Max begins by recalling the summer he turned eight and traveled with his family to his aunt Selma’s house in Denton, Texas. Max thinks he has already seen lots of excitement just in the train trip there, but it is only after he meets his cousin, Gaylord, that he learns the true meaning of ornery. After Chuck confesses that his sister, Carrie, and her baby goat is the reason Principal Koodle banned all farm animals from school, he tells all the old fibbers exactly the reason why. As the stories continue through weddings and funerals, high school pranks, misfired fireworks, and one dead dog, the old fibbers gladly return in memory to a simpler time.
The Fibber’s Club shares a collection of entertaining stories about young Max and his buddies as they embrace all life has to offer during an unforgettable era in Middle America.
About the Author
Angela Saale Helmandollar was born in Chillicothe, Missouri. She graduated from St. Joseph Academy and attended Northwest Missouri State University in Maryville, Missouri. Angie and her husband, Bob, had three children and live in Scottsdale, Arizona.