Chris Willy and Billy Dan

Chris Willy and Billy Dan proved quite a team, they grew up in Victoria, Texas, and ran the streets, rivers, and saloons, longer than they could remember. Everybody in town knew ‘em. They were inseparable. Man, did they like to gig dem frogs. Sun up to sundown they waded through creek beds, rivers, and slews. They were known to drink a few too.

Billy Dan cut a profile in a mirror, one of his ears flattened cauliflower from a young age when he picked up a hot iron by a ringing telephone and answered it. Never quite heard the same after that, hell to top it off, it was the wrong number when he got things right.

Billy Dan's face was pockmarked, his nose beakish, with high cheekbones and worm lips protruding under a dense uni-brow, most unusual . . . those that knew him would say, one of his eyes looked about half the size of the other one. He stood 5’10’ tall, topped 220 pounds wet. Trackin’ him in the woods never proved much a task, cause he walked pigeon-toed. He was good natured to say the least . . . but his friend, Chris Willy, parlayed pure trouble since the day he popped out his mother.

Chris Willy stood 6’2, in his waders, weighed in 162 pounds dry, and proved meaner than a cornered coon. His sand blond hair, it looked like a mop dipped in dirty water, and that hair hung over his eyes, so people weren’t really ever sure what color his eyes looked. Kind a like the neighbor’s long hair dog that ‘d never been clipped. Buck toothed too, and his grin was infectious But when you did see them eyes, they looked mighty beady. Christopher Willy chased trouble from the get go, but he had a tad a smarts too him that people had a hard time denying.

He had some good looks to him. Hell he thought so.

It was hot that September day when Chris Willie and Billy Dan commenced to drinkin’ late into the evening. Let’s hop into the 56 Ford truck with’em and ride along.

They’d already hit a Chinese buffet to the tune of about ten pounds of food, then walked the check. How the hell Chris Willy got that bag of fortune cookies out the door is a great mystery to this day, but he was coon coy when he plopped into the Ford’s seat and pulled the cookies outta his britches.

The first stop was Dairy Queen. Here’s how it began.

Pullin’ into the drive through, Billy Dan ran the ole' Ford over the rubber hose, ringin’ the bell, then he eased on up a bit. He opened the door and leant over to the speaker box, “I’d like this order to go if you please.”

That speaker crackled back, “Talk to me.”

“I’d like two Mississippi mud blizzards to go, and two extra cups to go too.” The DQ dude at the other end of the mike just couldn’t believe, but he had a job to do, and did it.

Billy Dan closed the door and rolled down his window, took the blizzards, the cups, and paid with two dollar bills, Billy Dan, he liked two dollar bills, dem were easiest to count in the clutch.

Chris Willy beamed a bit, when the blizzards were in hand, pulling out a bottle of good ole Jim Beam whiskey, he commenced to mixing the whiskey with the chocolate blizzards, and by the time they got to Garcita’s creek, they’d polished off the Jim Beam and almost a bucket of Mississippi mud. Their t-shirts with the bold lettering were a bit obscured by the skid marks the chocolate left, that’s the story, and they’d stick to it.

Billy Dan's big eye bloomed at Chris Willy, “Let’s get that john boat off the trailer and get to froggin’”

“I’ll second that.” Moonlight was beginning to twinkle and you could see hundreds of pairs of dem frog eyes reflectin' off the creek like stars in the sky.

"Looky at all dem frogs, Chris Willy, ain't that a beautiful thing?"

Billy Dan gargled his beer a little trying to cleanse his palate of the chocolate so he could enjoy his beer better. His moon like eye a sparklin' too. His lip curled up a little like only Elvis's could, "Yeah it is."

They ambled over to the boat with their gig poles, tackle box and lights, then stepped over the boat’s prow and pushed off the bank. The cantankerous old Johnson outboard sputtered to life with a little elbow grease and cussin’ -- but Billy Dan wouldn’t be denied, and finally the boat’s bow rode high on the creek, followed by a luminescent v-wake furling off the boats stern.

The best o’ times for now.

Roiling the water under a full moon was good, till the boat hit something hard.

“What the hell was that CW?”
“I'm thinkin' it was a Catfish"
”You don’t say.”
"Must a been a big'un."
"Sure seemed so."

About a minute later the Johnson outboard died suddenly as they glided to a stop. Chris Willy took over, found the blown fuses, then started a cussin’ as he rummaged through the tackle box. Not finding the fuses, he instead found a box of .22 shells and got to thinkin’.

“Looky here, these .22 shells are about the same size as them there fuses.”

“Damn straight they are,“ Billy Dan drawled then drooled, “Got a case a beer in the bait well, cause for a celebration I’d say.”

Chris Willy poked a cigarette in the front gap of his buck teeth, lit it, then sucked the sweet turgid smoke of the tobacco down. He was proud of that there fix, felt especially good when his friend nodded approvingly.

The cold beer Billy Dan tossed him made it all right, even better.

Chris Willy clipped the bullets snugly into the fuse holder and they commenced to drinking and thinking once the motor sputtered up and loped along.
Dozen beers later, they had gigged’em 19 or so frogs and things were lookin’ real good.

One of the captured frogs had a third leg, but hell they shrugged it off then downed another beer while lookin' across Matagorda bay at all the chemical plants lit like Christmas trees. Billy Dan slipped that extra-legged frog into the burlap sack, that three legged frog's two eyes were staring right into Billy Dan's big eye.

It was unnerving at first, but he kind of felt a bond for a second.

He shook it off sluiced down another beer. Then one more.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Chris Willy's Q-beam had surely heated the fuse box hot when the first .22 shell blew a hole in the bottom of the boat. Got dark fast suddenly. When the second shell went off and blew Billy Dan's big toe off. Calamity central. That was the beginning of the end. He let go the tiller, grabbed his foot, then the boat set course for shore. They were going about 25 or so when the boat whipsawed up the banks and threw them like a wild bronco onto the bank.

Good God them frogs littered the banks everywhere. That three legged frog must a hopped fifteen feet twice before it splashed the water and dove for freedom. They gathered up the rest of the frogs in wild frenzy.

Well, the Game Warden found them, took’em in for questioning, because, well, they didn’t have no hunting license and it didn’t help’em that they wouldn’t stop a cussin’ and arguing. Funny thing though, all the fortune cookies separated from the bag and littered the banks. Before Chris Willy got handcuffed, he managed to stuff him a half dozen cookies or so in his britches,

These Parks and Wildlife guys have seen more than the likes of Chris Willy and Billy Dan, time again, this time, they were prepared. They had a colander, a pair of jumper cables, and a copy machine. A poor man’s lie detector machine they would call it, and it was a real thing of beauty.

Then the secretary handed them a typed piece of paper with the words in big bold print across the middle of the page that read, YOU’RE LYING.

It got pretty simple after this, when they asked Roscoe a question, all they had to do was hit the copy button, and outta the machine would come a fresh piece of paper that read, YOU’RE LYING.

They moved a chair over next to the copy machine, making a big production with stern faces as they seated Chris Willy, then placed the colander on his head, clipped the jumper cables to the bowl handles, then surreptitiously ran the wires behind the copy machine, like it was real serious. Chris Willy, albeit a little drunk, acted a whole lotta scared.

The Game Warden’s voice was sure and smooth, “Chris Willy, what were you shooting at?”

“Not a damn thing, hell we didn’t even have no damn gun.”

Sweat beaded CW's forehead as he watched the other warden go to the lie detector machine and hit the button. Seconds later the warden snatched the paper from the tray and read it. YOU’RE LYING. “Tell me everything, it’s your last chance”

Chris Willy readied to wet his pants and prayed his boots wouldn't leak. “Well we did it all right, we walked the check at the Chinese buffet.”

The wardens laughed hard and the tall one stared down CW, “Well Chris Willy, when Billy Dan gets out of the emergency room, take those frogs to the restaurant and pay’em, then give them the frogs as goodwill.”

“I promise I will.”

“You’re free to go.”

Chris Willy saunters out, but he’s a little bit hungry. That chocolate and Jim Beam was stirring the pot. Remembering the fortune cookies, he pulls one out, scotches the plastic, splits the cookie and then eats it.

He’s left with a fortune in hand, “Confucius says, Man who walks check rubs belly to pat dog.”


I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.

Sir Winston Churchill

Maybe some day, when I gets good, I write dem Avocate fellas a story --