It was mid-July, and John and his family were finishing up their garden.  Jim had come two days ago, while his family went to Illinois to visit relatives.  Jim lived near a small town in west-middle Tennessee.  He was tall and lanky; in fact, he looked so skinny that he looked undernourished.  John’s family lived in Kentucky, near the Tennessee River.  Now, John was on the chunky side, and he was chockfull of mischievousness.

            John and Jim headed out of the house and began to talk about things that had happened during the last two years.  John thought to himself, “Ol’ Jim warn’t too smart.  He narly flunked outa the forth grade.  He even hada go to sommer skool, jes’ so’s he could git inta the fifth grade.”

            As the boys headed for the woodpile, Jim picked up a small stick and pulled out his pocketknife, and then, he began to whittle on the stick.  When they got to the woodpile, both of them set a stick of stove wood on end, and they sat down on the wood.  After a while, Jim got tired of whittling and started to stick his knife in the ground.  John noticed that he was pretty good, too, because he was cutting those black ants in two.

            “Jim can shore thro that there knife,” John though to himself, “it’s jes’ too bad he couldna got hisself sum better larnin’ from them there teechers.”  About that time, John said, “Jim, ya wanna go afishin’?  I knowed the bes’ spot in the whole world’ to get sum katfish.”

            “I guess so.  We ain’t agittin’ nuttin dun ‘round chere,”  Jim said.

            “I’ll go ‘n’ tell my maw,” John said, “and git the poles.  Then we kin go’n dig us sum whorms and head fer the river.  I’ll be back in jes’ a minit.”

            The boys dug their worms and headed for the river.  After they had been fishing for a couple of hours, Jim said, “I thought ya sed this here was the bes’ fishin’ spot in the whole worl’.  We ain’t even had a lil’ ol’ nibble yet.  An’ ‘sided, it’s hot, so’s why don’t we go askinny dippin’?  We kin kool off, ‘n’ then jes’ mebbe the fish’ll be abitin’ better.”

            “Afore we go aswimmin’, how ‘bouts us aginnin’ us a watermelon?” John Asked.

            “Da ya knowed whare we kin git one?” Jim asked.

            “Why shore I duz,” said John.  “Thare’s a melon patch jes’ a lil’ peece down the river.”

            The boys went down the river about half a mile and found the watermelon patch.  They, then, proceeded to go about the process of selecting one.  After checking out several, they found a nice ripe one.  They pulled it from the vine, and John carried it back to the fishing spot.  Jim dug out his old pocketknife, and he cut it open.  They ate that melon with their hands, and they were very careful to spit the seeds in the river.  Then they went swimming, but just in case someone was looking for that melon, the boys took some rocks and weighted down the rinds at the bottom of the mouth of the creek.  After swimming for a while, they put on their clothes and headed for the house.  They figured that next time, they would bring some salt for the melon.

            After they got home, Jim helped John get his chores down and told John’s mom that they hadn’t caught any fish today.  She said, “Maybe you’ll do better the next time.”

            Saturday morning the boys decided to go fishing again.  John grabbed the salt shaker from the kitchen table, and they left.  After the boys got a little way from the house, John said, “This time let’s git the melon early and put it in the crick so’s it’ll git kool in the water.  Then, after we go afishin’ a while, we kin eat a col’ melon.”

            Jim said, “That sounds purty good ta me.”

            The boys proceeded to carry out their plan.  And, after fishing and swimming some, they went home.  Both the boys had caught one catfish, and they proudly carried their fish.

            The next day John’s mother got the boys out of bed, and all of them went to church, because she felt that it would make them better people if they went.

            That afternoon the boys were sitting in John’s room talking.  Jim said, “That thare preecher shore was ahollerin’ ‘bout not steelin’.  Ya knowed mebbe we aughter not take eny more o’them melons.”  And then he began to think of how John hadn’t listened to the preacher anyway.  All that he dis was to play with a quarter that his mother had given him to put in the offering.

            “That preecher warn’t atalkin’ ‘bout us.  He was atalkin’ ‘bout those folks thet steel money, ‘m’ cheet on their taxes ‘n’ stuff.  But we are jes’ ahelpin’ that there farmer over yonder git rid o’ sum o’ his ol’ melons.  ‘Sides him ‘n’ his wife kan’t eat all them melons by theirselves anyhow,” John said.

            Jim said, “But, I jes’ dun’t know…” (As John cut him off.)

            “It dun’t really matter nohow,” John said.  “We kin mebbe put in a good wurd, at the store, fer the farmer’s melons, so’s he kin sell more.”  After some more arguments, John finally convinced Jim not to worry about it.

            Early the next morning, before daylight, the farmer was stirring around.  He takes down his shotgun and goes to the barn.  He finds his portable deer stand and heads for the woods.  After finding a good tree and shinnying up the tree about 20 feet, he gets settled in and waits for daylight.

            Later that morning, we find the boys heading for the river again.  On his way out of the house, John grabbed the saltshaker again, and he handed it to Jim.  After getting their poles and worms down, they went to the melon patch.  It sure was quiet this morning, but the boys began to look for a good melon.

            John said, “Hey Jim, this’n here looks like a good’n.  Whaddaya think?”

            Jim answered,  “I ain’t shore we aughter do this agin.”

            But, while Jim was saying that, John was bending over to pick up the melon.  The boom of the shotgun broke the quiet of that morning.  John stood up fast, and yelled, “I been shot.”

            Jim yelled, “I knowed we shoudna cum here agin, I knowed it, I jes’ knowed it.”

            Both boys took off like a streak of lightning for the fishing spot, with John holding his rear.  John was hollering, “Paw’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me.”

            When they got to the fishing spot, jim was still hollering, “I knowed we shouldna dun it, I jes’ knowed it.”

            “John said, “Shaddup and hilp me git my britches off.”

            John humped into the river, while Jim was looking at his pants.  The rock salt had riddled them, as if mace had eaten on them.  Jim looked out in the river and asked John, “So whadday want me to do with this here salt now?”

            Among his groaning, John said, “Dump it out, I got plenty.”