After dinner was over me and daddy listened to Walter Winchell, that famous broadcaster, give the war news, and then I hightailed it down to Flat Creek Swamp. That's my favorite place in the whole wide world to go. You never know what your gonna find down there. Well, I wasn't disapointed none, but I did learn me a real good lesson. Don't poke no stick in a hollow log unless you can see what your a-poking. Heck, we were just walking along when Sniffer let out a grow and started barking at the end of this big log. I figured it was a rabbit or some old possum, so I cut me a twisting stick to see if I could twist the end around in its fur and pull it out. I stuck that stick in the hollow log, started poking and twisting it, and I heard something, but it didn't sound like no rabbit, coon, or possum. Sounded kinda like a buzz-saw. Me and Sniffer got real close to the end of the log and Sniffer was just going dog crazy, when whossssh, out of that log came thousands and thousands of yellow jacket wasps. (Well, it seemed like thousands). I jumped back and fell over Sniffer, and before we could get up and run, them yellow jackets had us. I guess it was funny if it didn't happen to you, but I've got stings all over my head and that stupid Sniffer's nose is twice as big as it usually is. Shoot, Flat Creek Swamp...stuff always happens there...If I'm lyin' I'm dyin.'