We both had a good laugh at this. With the sticks and some bailing wire, Grandpa made a frame that looked almost like a gingerbread man.
On this he put an old pair of pants and a red sweater. We stuffed the loose flabby clothes with grass and leaves.
He wired the stocking-cap head in place and stepped back to inspect his work.
“Well, what do you think of it?” he asked. “If it had a face,” I said, “you couldn’t tell it from a real man.”
“We can fix that,” Grandpa chuckled. He took a stick and dug some black grease from one of the hub caps on the buggy.
I stood and watched while he applied his artistic touch.
In the stocking-cap head he made two mean-looking eyes, a crooked nose, and the ugliest mouth I had ever seen.
“Well, what do you think of that?” he asked. “Looks pretty good, huh?”
Laughing fit to kill, and talking all at the same time,
I told him that I wouldn’t blame the coon if he stayed in the tree until Gabriel blew his horn.
“He won’t stay that long,” Grandpa chuckled, “but he’ll stay long enough for you to cut that tree down.”
“That’s all I want,” I said. “We’d better be going,” Grandpa said. “It’s getting late and we don’t want to miss that supper.”
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