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nen it was tnat lucio s determination, in spite of protesting young 'uns and a hostile audience, filled his being with a sort of majesty and he marched back up that ladder like Caesar ascending his throne, sacked cat in hand.
When Lucio reached into the sack and grabbed the cat, at least a dozen different things all happened simultaneously.
The cat yeeowed, screeched, scratched and clawed, then dashed down the tree and up the hill, while Lucio detonated his complete repertoire of profanity with the speed and emphasis of Chinese firecrackers.
The kids shouted, jumping up and down, “Yea! Yea! Run, cat, run!”
I sputtered one more sput before exploding in maniacal laughter, wallowing in the grass cackling like a henhouse raided by a fox.
Lucio came down the ladder nursing the arm where the events of the moment had been inscribed, but with his pride intact. “To hell with the cherries!”, he announced.
The cat was never seen again, but the coop stayed up in the tree for several years.
Happily, in later years, Lucio did succeed with a dif
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