Ten year old Taylor Bailey and her younger brother James are moving from the great state of Pennsylvania to Texas. They do not want to leave their friends and the only home they have ever known. Their parents have determined that the move will be the best thing for everyone in the family. Taylor is NOT optimistic about the change in scenery. To make matters worse, her crazy Uncle Joe will be moving to Texas with them. The numerous and nutty adventures Taylor, James and their crazy Uncle Joe have in their new house in Teague, Texas will have you giggling and wanting more.

The Misadventures of Taylor R. Bailey

By Nancy E. Huffman

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Nancy E. Huffman
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-5790-9

Contents

Change Isn't Easy!.....................1Ca-ray-zee Joe.........................7The Chicken Coup.......................13The Burn Pile..........................23"Stinky"...............................29Wampus Cat.............................41Big D and Ju-ju........................55Punishment.............................69Ma and Pa..............................754th of July............................81

Chapter One

Change Isn't Easy!

Moving from one place to another is bad enough, but moving from a brand spanking new home that has the latest amenities in the great state of Pennsylvania to a run down, antiquated, backwoods place in Podunkville is perfectly idiotic to me. Why anyone would want to move out of a beautiful big city where you can go and do just about anything you like to a small do nothing town is beyond my way of thinking. How can any human be expected to live in a house that doesn't have central air and heat, carpet, or even a dishwasher? I can't imagine trying to cool off during the heat of summer with a box that has a few knobs on the front of it that someone plugged into an electrical socket and then shoved into a window. How can anyone with sound mind and any type of sane judgment want to put themselves in a position that uses archaic technology?

Heathens, just simple heathens are what my parents are for making me and my little brother step back in time to live in the same house they grew up in millions of years ago. Just because they grew up living in an outdated, old-fashioned house doesn't mean they should make us live that way. They `loved' it. It was such a `simpler time' they would say to us. `Hard work makes a person value what they have in life.' Blah, blah, blah. My parents kept talking to me and my brother and continually tried to justify all their excuses and good reasons why we should move. I wasn't interested in listening to them or any of their dumb excuses. I didn't want to move.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't appreciate what I had back in Pennsylvania, it's all I ever was exposed to. I didn't know any other way of life. The way I see it is, my parents are the ones who birthed me and chose to raise me in Pittsburgh. They introduced me to the lifestyle I had become accustomed to all these years, right? Why should I have to give up the life I love because they want to move? Can't they see that they are ruining my life?

Arguing with them about it did no good. They had made their decision and we were moving. I guess Pennsylvania was going to be part of my past now that Jen and Rob, my parents, were pulling up stakes and moving me and my little brother, James, off to some little town in Texas called Teague.

They say the main reason we're moving is because the economy is so bad. I don't buy that for one second. I know the real reason-or at least I think I do. Two weeks ago I happened to overhear my Mom, talking on the phone with Ma and Pa Owen, her parents. They have lived in Teague, Texas their entire lives. They said they wanted to start traveling the United States in a Winnebago during their golden years of retirement and they wanted to give their historic two-story Victorian house to her and my Dad. I heard Mom say that they wanted their house to stay in the family. If Mom and Dad agreed to move to Teague it would be a huge burden off their shoulders. They wouldn't have to go through the hassle of putting their house up for sale and moving.

Ma and Pa also thought that this move would possibly do good things for Joe, their oldest son. They said it would be helpful to him to be back in his childhood home. They thought it would be a healthy move for him after being traumatized in Vietnam many years ago. He has had some psychological problems ever since. Nothing has seemed to help his mental stability on a regular basis. He seems sane most of the time, but then there are times when he gets wacky. They were thankful that Mom and Dad let Uncle Joe live with them when he had nowhere else to turn. He had been living with them since before I was born.

To an adult, those sound like perfectly good reasons to uproot a family and move over one thousand miles. But I'm a kid and they sound absurd to me. But who asked me for my opinion about moving to Texas? I'll tell you who asked me. Nobody! I do not find those excuses rational or acceptable.

No matter what I thought about the situation, all of my personal belongings were being boxed up and put on a moving truck for the long drive to Texas.

The lengthy drive gave me many hours of `think time'. I tried to understand all the positive circumstances there could possibly be about leaving Pennsylvania the entire way. I couldn't think of one that would benefit me. I came to the conclusion that Mom and Dad are moving the family to Texas for one reason and one reason only-to make my life miserable. So far it's working!

Ca-ray-zee Joe

"You gotta be kiddin' me! How many clothes can one little kid have? You can only wear one pair of jeans at a time!" Those were the first words my Crazy Uncle Joe Owen said to me while I was unpacking in our new house. I was trying my best to ignore him and get on with unloading ten years worth of my things but he wouldn't let it go.

He then started rambling about when he was young. "I was lucky to have one pair of shoes let alone fifteen pairs like you. I only wore them in the dead of winter when we walked twenty miles in knee deep snow to school so's I wouldn't wear them out."

He went on and on about how people invested too much of their time and money in earthly possessions and how he just couldn't understand what had gotten into people today. All I knew is that I didn't want to unpack my clothes and stuff, especially in front of him. Some of my belongings are personal and private and I would like to keep it that way. They aren't for others, especially boys, to look at. As a matter of fact, I never wanted to pack them in the first place. I was forced. How was I supposed to go on living without my friends? I know this may be hard to believe but I really loved my house, my friends and yes, even my school in Pennsylvania. What was I going to do without all my friends back home? What was I going to do in this awful, wretched place?

Finally, Crazy Uncle Joe, otherwise known as CJ, to me and James, sashayed out of my room mumbling to himself. I heard him say something about the craziness in this world and having a fried bologna sandwich with sardines for lunch. He sauntered out of my room and went to bother someone else. I didn't care that CJ left my room, I was just thankful he was gone.

I slumped down on my bedroom floor and heaved a big sigh. I don't know how much more of this place or CJ I can endure. When I was younger, CJ's weird antics didn't seem to bother me as much as they do now. Mom says I need to make a better effort with CJ. "Work on your patience with your Uncle Joe," she would say, "He's special and needs our love and support."

Whenever CJ would twist off about something, Mom would remind us of his `special circumstances' since coming home from the war. She would stress that he wasn't always like this. When they were growing up they used to play and argue just like me and James do now. "It was just like you would expect a brother and sister to act," she would say.

"Your Uncle witnessed countless people and friends being shot and killed while he was in Vietnam and it really disturbed him." Each time she would tell the story; she would tear up and cry. It was obvious that she loved her older brother, but why did he have to live with us? And why did he have to move to Texas with us? Couldn't he stay in Pennsylvania and at least give me a break from him and his weirdness for a while? Like matters weren't bad enough for me already, he was going to be here in Texas with me adding to the misery in my life.

For as long as I can remember CJ has always been kind of weird. James and I have always been nosy about CJ's eccentricities. Every chance we got, we would snoop around his room without his knowing it. Back home in Pennsylvania, CJ would have some creepy, even bizarre moments. One time me and James tiptoed down our hallway and stood in front of his bedroom door. We carefully took turns trying to spy on him. We were hoping to hear or catch a glimpse of his weirdness. On this particular occasion, James had one of his eyes pressed up to the keyhole of CJ's door and I had my ear on the right side of my head pushed up against the door about a foot higher. Every so often we would change positions. We hoped we would see or hear something weird and wonderful from his room.

Inside CJ's room was one four-drawer dresser and a bed that he had placed directly in the center of the room. He paced around the bed in a circle as if he was a blood thirsty mountain lion hunting for his next meal, ready to pounce on it at any given moment. The air outside in the hallway was absolutely still and there was utter and complete silence inside the room. CJ stopped in mid-step, and stood as still as a granite statue of a famous war hero. James and I held our breath. We were certain CJ had marked us as his prey and was ready to ambush us. As quickly as he stopped, he started to pace again with the same gait as before. Then, abruptly, he was on one knee with his left arm resting on the bed and his right arm up around his chin area. It appeared that he had an invisible rifle in his hand that he was aiming directly out of his bedroom window. With his forefinger and second finger, he motioned for some make believe person in the room to "move up" closer to him. His voice was almost inaudible but we heard some sort of mixed garble that sounded like he was giving code words to his unseen comrade.

James couldn't stand it any longer. Snot spewed from his nose and spittle slung out of his mouth as a laugh busted through the silence in the hallway. We knew that CJ had must have heard us. We took off running down the hall, bumping into and falling over each other until we reached the door to my room. I have never run so fast in my life. We quickly scuttled through the doorway into my room and slammed the door shut behind us. We heard a click as I turned the door key. We fell to the floor breathing heavily.

"Wow! Did you see what I saw?" James asked breathlessly.

"Yea and I don't even want to know what that was about! Sometimes it's better not to know." I nervously whispered.

We heard CJ's footsteps walk past the door. We held our breath and prayed that somehow he didn't know where we were or that we were spying on him. Propped up against the door staring at each other with disbelief, we sat for the next thirty minutes. We gathered our courage and ventured out and back into the rest of the house as if nothing had ever happened.

Somehow, that odd experience is stuck in my head. I think it is lodged in there to remind me that there is specialness about CJ. And it's that specialness that makes him act so - well, weird.

The Chicken Coup

As morning broke the next day, I awoke to a brilliant golden stream of light seeping into my bedroom through an open window. The light seemed to be aimed directly toward my corneas. It was so intense it felt as if it were going to burn my retinas right out of my head! At the same time the light was searing my eyes, a woodpecker was happily hammering away at the trunk of a dead pecan tree right outside of my window.

"Stop the madness. Somebody turn it off!" I bawled out. Then remembering where I was I found myself deep in thought. Why me? Why am I here? Why? Why? Why? I grabbed my pillow and shoved it over my face.

I wanted to go back to Pittsburgh and be in my old house surrounded by my friends and everything else I knew and loved. I wanted to hear the peacefulness of car horns honking in the morning, the ear-piercing blare of the fire truck and police sirens and kids screaming on the sidewalks to each other as they go about their day. I wanted to hear the beautiful sounds of city life. Oh, how I longed for that kind of hustle and bustle. That was what I grew up with. It is what I loved. All of that was becoming nothing more than a remote recollection to me now that I was in Hicksville with beautiful sunlight, fresh air and birds singing. If my parents were looking for the exact opposite of what we had in Pennsylvania, they got it!

I was just about to doze off with sweet thoughts of city life when ... uggh! A ghastly odor wafted into my room. It smelled like a landfill was in each of my nostrils. I think the stench scorched the inner lining of my nose beyond repair.

"Dixie?" I asked with firmness in my voice. "Girl, is that you? Do you need to go outside?"

I looked around the room and under my bed for her but she wasn't there. Dixie is my, well my Mom's wiener dog. She's been in the family now for about eight years. If you like crotchety, lazy, fat dogs, you would love her. Her favorite thing in the whole world is to sleep in Mom's lap for long-drawn-out periods of time, eat a bit of food, and then go back to lounging around again. That's pretty much the routine she likes to follow each day. Without a doubt, she is not kept around our house to be a watch dog. She has the roundest, most rotund shape of any miniature wiener dog I've ever laid my eyes on. Her body feels like a giant water balloon that's going to burst open at any minute from all the pressure. The move from Pennsylvania had her just as upset as it did me. Dixie was nowhere in sight.

I had drifted back to sleep when I heard the comforting voice of my Mom. "Good morning sunshine. How did you sleep last night? I opened your bedroom windows after you fell asleep. I thought the fresh air would do you good."

"Thanks." I managed to groggily squeak out.

"I'm sorry about the smell this morning." she said closing the windows. "I had no idea the wind would change and blow in from the south during the night. It does smell a tiny bit in here but I think that's mostly the pig sty you smell. You may as well get used to it though. We plan on being here for a long time."

As she was leaving my room, Mom remarked, "Come to think of it, Ma and Pa's sow had two babies just before they left for their vacation. CJ and Dad have been tending to them since Ma and Pa left. You and James should run down and check those piglets out."

"Yea, right. I'll get right on that! NOT!" I thought as I turned over and covered my head with my favorite blanket that my Nanny had quilted for me. Nanny is my Dad's mother. She made a baby quilt for each of her eight grandchildren as a gift to them when they were born. I wish she were still alive. I miss her dreadfully. When I was with her I had no worries and life seemed so wonderful. My quilt is one of the most favorite things I own. It reminds me of the wonderful times I had with her. When I was with Nanny, she would wrap her arms tightly around me and her calm voice always sounded so sweet and kind. She made me think I was the most special person in the whole wide world. Having her hand made quilt draped around me was the next best thing to having her arms wrapped around me. It made me feel like she is still here with me. I only knew her for a few years before she died. If she were here now, I know for certain I wouldn't be in Texas! She wouldn't have ever let Dad move us here. I know Dad misses his mom terribly but he hasn't ever really talked about it to us kids. He mainly keeps that kind of stuff to himself.

"Tay," Mom called out from the kitchen, "Breakfast is ready."

I got out of bed and managed to amble over to my window to make sure the window was shut so the horrific smell in my room might fade away. I went over to my closet and picked out my best `what shall I wear today in Podunkville' outfit. It wasn't hard to choose. Jeans and a shirt would be fine to wear here where no one would see me. I was almost finished putting my clothes on when James came barreling into my room.

"Do you mind? I'm kind of getting dressed here you big doofus!" I popped off to James.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the back staircase to the first floor kitchen, "No time to be stupid Tay, you've got to come see this! You're not going to believe what CJ is doing now!"

I hadn't quite finished dressing but that didn't matter to James. The entire time I was trying to dress James was pulling my hand and I was trying feverishly to yank it away so I could finish buttoning my pants. I was afraid they were going to plummet down my legs and expose my business to God and everyone else!

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Misadventures of Taylor R. Baileyby Nancy E. Huffman Copyright © 2010 by Nancy E. Huffman. Excerpted by permission.
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