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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Lucknow Sentinel, 1979-02-14, Page 7Luckaow Seat ieil, Wednesday! February -14, 1979—Page 7 From within the old Redtrees Hotel, many stories originated; most ot hem untrue. When the minds of the patrons were fged by alcohol, the unbelievable became reality, each storyteller trying to excel at his , art. Every Saturday _evening, a little henpecked man called Jimmy Dogan, attended the liars' convention. It was the only night his wife would allow him to escape from her constant nagging. By virtue of her immense size, Mrs. Dogan wore the pants and guided Jimmythrough his retirement years with an iron .hand. She had discovered her superiority half a century before the advent of the feminist Movement, and didn't have to burn her outsize support garment to prove it. When she spoke,. Jimmy jumped! For 50 years, during his working days, Jimmy had walked around the railway marshaling, yards, tapping the wheels of trains with a long handled hammer. He called himself a "locomotive undercarriage in- spector" but his. workmates had a shorter job description for his monotonous activities. Since nothing spectacular had ever happened in his life, •Jimmy was'deterrninedto invent an adventurous past from his fertile imagination. He related fantastic stories, repeating them so often, he began to believe them himself! One Saturday evening, with all, the regular,, liars present, a farmer was recounting -the exploits Of his. pioneer grandfather. ",'e were the roughtest, toughest man in these hills, so 'e were. A big brawny Scotsman with a punch that could fell an ox!" Through the dense tobacco smoke, the audience.. looked intently at the /farmer. He took a long drink from his bottle, wiped the residue from his mouth with the back of his hand and belched loudly: "Yep, ''e were a moose of a man,'' he. continued. "Walked all the way to Pantown -- through thick bush. Bought a wooden plough there -- so 'e did -- 'an 'e carried it by''imself, all the way back to Redtrees!" "Is that right?'' ''Yer don't say!'' '`By the jaeze-- wot a man!" The listeners chorused in amazement. Jimmy Dogan had thought deeply about the story • and was digging into his imagination to top it. It would be difficult to beat but he had never failed -yet, had he? "That ain't nothin," Jimmy said all casual like. "My ole grandpa did the same an' more. Nobody were as tough as ole Danny Dogan!" He looked at the farmer and tried to appear apologetic, "Mind yer, ain't saying yer grandpa weren't tough. Maybe 'e were a real tough guy, but nobody hereabouts were as tough as Dangerous Danny Dogan" He puffed out his little chest with his new found pride. "Yep, that's wot they called 'im -_ Dangerous Dan." ' Seems like I 'eard a name like that before,' a total disbeliever interjected sarcastically. "I'm. -sure I read it in a book someplace!". Jimmy totally ignored` the doubter -and' continued. "Grandpa Dogan bought a wolodenplough from Pantown, an' wots more, 'e bought a jug o' whisky. It were real powerful liquor in them days!" He took a lingering drink from, his rapidly diminishing bottle, to give his brain' time to conjure up the ending. "So what 'appened? Yeah, tell us about Dangerous. Dan." Jimmy beamed, savouring the luxury of his'. success. `'Welt, mi grandpa; 'e carried that plough all the' way back to Redtrees and beyond. 'e lived quite a piece beyond maybe four or five mile. 'e were tough were ole Dan, an' .'e drank that`iug 'o whisky on the way 'ome•-- every last dreg!" • Jimmy knocked back' the remains of his bottle.as if to demonstrate old Dan's actions and perhaps, as a cocky, finale to' his story. He now felt in a stronger position tonegotiate with the barman for replenish- ment. "D'yer think I could ...? "Not, a chance," the. barman said.decisively. "You've 'ad yer ration fer tonight. Dangerous Dan might 'ave been some. drinker but you sure ain't --- two' yer limit. Your old woman ud kill me if I gave yer another swaller!" Jimmy glowered with envy at the over abundance of, liquid refreshment which surrounded him. It was near and yet so far. He looked appealingly at each and every member of the liars club in turn, his eyes begging for their generosity. They avoided his glance: it was better to refuse Jimmy now than face the old tigress Mrs. Dogan later! •', A weekend cottager at the next table, felt sympathy for the little man and slipped him a glass of whisky. Jimmy repaid the kindness with more outlandish stories, and was repeatedly rewarded for his efforts until closing time. When Jimmy Dogan , eventually stumbled in the general direction of his home, he was in a drunken stupor. Barely able to walk, he wandered off the road and lost his way in a cedar swamp. A newcomer t� Redtrees, and ab recent addition to ' the church choir, was returning home after a later practice, when he heard feeble cries for help. He found Jimmy up to his knees in oozing mud, and with some difficulty dragged' him clear. The good Samaritan took the little man's weight and they staggered together like a couple of drunken sailors, towards the Dogan residence. Old Mrs. Dogan had been looking out -of the window, frantically awaiting the arrival of her husband. In the glow of the outside light, she saw the two men lurching up the pathway. She grabfed a', walking stick, determined to let the stranger know that she would show no mercy to people who encouraged her Jimmy into drunkedness. Without waiting for any explanation, and in 'spite of his protests, she whacked the unfortunate chorister about his -legs, until he was forced to release his burden and beat a hasty retreat from his persecutor. Next morning, Mrs. Dogan attended church whilst Jimmy blissfully slept in his bed. When the choir filed solemnly in from the vestry, she recognised her victim of the night before, as he limped painfully to his place in the choir stalls, "Hypocrite, that's wot 'e is," she said to herself in disgust. "A devil on :Saturday night an' a cherub on Sunday. mornin'!. We Got Em! 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