KO'd by a 4-year-old

I had a rough upbringing, back in Flap County, Montana. How the county came by that name is a story in itself - something to do with the undergarments worn by the original Mormon settlers. Anyway, Dad was afflicted with an allergy to work, so Mom invariably ended up being the breadwinner, while Dad was supposed to be at home, watching me.

Dad's idea of watching me was to take me to a saloon called "The Hole In The Wall", named as such not because it was one, but rather had one. My earliest childhood memory is of my Dad chalking his pool cue in that place. Dad was also quite a boxer and had the gloves on me at age three. I was going to grow up to be World Heavyweight Champion.

One day, Dad was involved in a brawl with Moose Anderson. At some point in the action, Moose broke free and reached behind the bar for a bottle of rum. I feared for Dad, and so from the vantage of the barstool on which I perched (at the tender age of four), I planted a right-hook deftly on Moose's jaw. To my surprise, his eyes rolled around and he passed out. Dad caught the bottle of rum. To this day, Moose refuses to believe he was knocked out by a four-year-old.

That triumph led me to become rather precocious. One day, at age nine, I found myself home alone. Dad was actually working and so was Mom. I was missing "The Hole In The Wall" and so grabbed my piggy bank and headed for the place.

I found it deserted, other than for the two bartenders. I strutted up to the bar, planted my piggy bank firmly on the bar, and pronounced, "Barkeep! Set 'em up". One of the bartenders put down the glass he was polishing and eyed the other bartender. "Whaddya say we get the kid drunk?" The other nodded in wicked approval.

I remember nothing about what followed, other than waking up at home with a horrible headache and a sick stomach. My mother was furious, but, for once, Dad was off the hook this time. However, we learned that the many trips me and my pants took down the bar that afternoon had polished up the counter a treat.