Pap's Story

PAP'S STORY / Glenn VV. Erickson ONCE UPON A TIME the old man—I say old man but he's a boy at heart—that old man went down to the river near his place to play at ducks and drakes. I said river but it was more Uke a stream, unless there was a flood and how often does that happen these days, anyhow? And when he got there, or so he tells me, though he has been knowed to hoist himself on his own canard from time to time, and when he got there, the stream it looked something Uke this. ooooooooooooo 0000000000000 ooooooooooooo ooooooooooooo ooooooooooooo ooooooooooooo ooooooooooooo 000000000000 000000000000 00000000000 0000000000 000000000 00000000 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Then that old man, his name was . . . but heck, I forget the old feUer's name. We just caUs 'em Pap, when we caUs him, that is. WeU, anyways, the old feUow pick'd up a piece of flatrock that was just lying there, but then that's the way o' rocks, and spit on it and rubbed it in real good to make it nice and sUck. SUck so's it would skip Uke April on her way home from lessons. And 48 · The Missouri Review then the old boy gave that skipping stone a good sidewise heaveho tiU it near as gave him a stitch. But that stone it hit the water and went down Uke a mountain sun. At that moment the stream it took on a nice even ripple, it did. 0 0 ooooooooo ? 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 1 3 6 10 15 21 28 36 45 55 1 4 10 20 35 56 84 0 1 6 21 56 126 126 252 210 462 1 5 15 35 70 120 330 165 "Where in blazes am I going to get up another stone the likes of that the/ne?" Pap asked himself pensively. He evidentially warn't overjoyed with wasting a good piece of flatrock, that's what he'd throw'd alright, and thunk out loud. He didn't give a hoot in a hoUer who knew it neither. WeU, to make a long story short, the old man walked around in Uttle drdes aU stooped over until he found another stone to his liking. This time, though, he didn't bother to wet the stone up Uke before. No, he warmed it between his palms Uke he was prayin', and who's to say he wasn't prayin', either? Anyways when the stone was warm enough for him, or when his praying was done, he did a spin Uke he was an athlete throwing a discobolus, and not just some old coot tossing flatrock in a crick. He let her fly. This time the stone skipped twice and landed on the other side of the stream, where he was not Uke to go get it, on account of his lumbago. Did I say what pattern the stone traced in the stream? 'Cause it Glenn W. Erkkson The Missouri Review · 49 was a tad more fancy than before. I mean the other time. WeU, this's it, ri'chere. o o o o o o o 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 000000000 0 0 0 111111 11234567 2 3 5 8 12 17 23 30 3 6 11 19 31 48 71 101 4 1021 40 71 119 190 291 5 1536 76 147 266 456 747 6 2157 133 280 546 1002 1749 7 2885 218 498 1044 2046 8 36121 339 837 1881 9 45166 505 1342 1055221 726 1166287 1278 13 "You can do one thing as weU's t'other," the old man mumbled to no one in particular. Then he began walking back and forth, back and forth, he did, with his hands crossed behind his back, and his long robes flowing as he strode. You could teU he wasn't in no...