"Late again!" the third-grade teacher sternly said to little Ranger.   
 
"It ain't my fault this time, Miss Russell.  You can blame this 'un 
on my Daddy. The reason I'm three hours late is my Daddy sleeps 
naked!" 
 
Now, Miss Russell had taught grammar school for thirty-some-odd 
years.  Despite her mounting fears, she asked little Ranger what he 
meant by that.  
 
Full of grins and mischief, and in the flower of his youth, little 
Ranger and trouble were old friends, but he always told her the 
truth. 
 
"You see, Miss Russell, out at the farm we got this here low down 
fox. The last few nights, he done et six hens. Last night, when 
Daddy heard a noise out ta chicken pen, he grabbed his double-
barreled shot gun and said to my Ma, `That fox is back agin & I'm a 
gonna git him!' 
 
 
"My Daddy was naked as a jaybird: no boots, no pants, no shirt! To 
the hen house he crawled, just like an Injun on the snoop. Then, he 
stuck that double-barreled 12-gauge shot gun through the window 
of the coop.  
 
As he stared into the darkness, with a fox on his mind, our old 
hound dog, Rip, had done gone and woke up and comes sneaking 
up behind Daddy. 
 
Then, as we all looked on, plumb helpless, old Rip done went and 
stuck his cold nose on my Daddy's naked butt!" 
 
"Miss Russell, we all been cleanin' chickens since three o'clock this 
mornin!"