Annie - The zombie hunter

Anne is Maggie's daughter who is now six years old. We all go every December to San Francisco to Christmas shop. The kids and I also hunt zombies whenever we get the chance (more stories on that later). So when Annie was 4, in December of 2017 we were staying on Union Square and I was having my morning cigar about 5:30am on the wall facing the St. Francis where we were staying.

Annie came up to me and said "My mother said there are no such things as zombies". I said "Oh really, why don't you go get your mother and we'll see about that because San Francisco is filled with zombies". Maggie, Annie and I walk down an alley about a half block north of Union Square and about 30 feet in front of us is a two or three foot tall stack of flattened cardboard boxes. As we watched, an arm came out from the middle and we heard "Aaarrghh". Annie screamed "It's a zombie, run Mom" (Note she didn't say run PaPa Tom). She took off running and screaming and was half way across Union Square when I caught up to her. I said "Well, I guess I settled that question". She was terrified and said "Is it coming after us"?

Brody, the Devil Incarnate

Brody is now four years old and is the son of Maggie and her husband Matt Schmidt. There is something seriously wrong with the child. For instance, he started speaking in full sentences when he was barely two years old. About six months after that I said to him "Brody, I liked you better before you could talk". He looked at me and said "Yeah, too bad". I didn't learn sarcasm until I was about 8 years old.

Episode One:

When Brody was two and a half years old, his mother Maggie put he and his four year old sister, Annie down for a nap. Brody has an elevated bed. It is about five feet off the ground with a ladder going up to it. About 45 minutes after putting them down, Maggie went in to check on them. Annie was asleep in her room but when she looked up to Brody's bed he was gone. Maggie ran through the house checking for him but not a sign. The heavy sliding glass doors were closed but she noticed there was only one dog in the backyard. What the little shit did was let himself out, shinny up a five and a half foot wrought iron gate and pop the latch on top. His weight swung it open and one of the dogs ran out with him. They live on the top of a hill overlooking a big wash that is often filled with coyotes.

She was crying and yelling for him, nothing. About a half hour later she heard his voice in the neighbors back yard. She found him holding a Tonka truck that he had left the week before and talking to the neighbor. Maggie was crying him and telling him she couldn't find him and he wasn't in his bed. Brody said he only went down into the wash for a little bit.

Fast forward one week. Maggie puts them down and a half hour later thinks "I better check on that little shit" , so she goes in his room and looks up to his pillow and sees scraggly blond hair sticking up. She smiles and turns to leave the room but her eye catches a little hint of green on the pillow. She yanks the covers back and Brody was gone and had put a two foot "Yoda" doll in bed and pulled the blanket over him. It was Yoda's head and hair that were on the pillow. Now I know how to do that because I've watched 115 prison escape movies. The Brode figured that one out himself.

A week later Maggie was marveling at what Brody pulled and I told her "He didn't do that to trick you, he did it to reassure you". She said "What"! I said "You don't know how we think. The goal is to get out and do what you want. But, how many times last week did you say to him "You weren't in your bed"? She said about 10 times. I said - So there you have it, he wasn't going to not do what he wants to do but he didn't want to upset you.

Tom Higgins, Jr.

"Catching" a Cottonmouth

Rhilla Waddell (1900 - 1992) aka MaMa (pronounced MaMaw). I was about 10 or 11 so this occurred in the mid 1950's when we were in Alabama for a vacation from either Philadelphia or Tucson.  My cousin, Jimmy Lee, myself and brother Mike (about 6 years old then) decided to catch a cottonmouth snake.  When I reached for it, it struck and I ended up grabbing the middle of the snake instead of its head.  I flinched backwards and the snake went under my neck and bit the left arm of my T-shirt.  We all screamed and I flung the snake and took of like I was on fire.  When we got back to MaMa's house she was on the front porch and the following exchange took place:

MaMa:  What is wrong with you boys?

Me:  I tried to catch a cottonmouth.

MaMa:  What in God's name were you doing that for?

Me:  Well, I'm pretty fast.

MaMa:  Child, you're not faster than a cottonmouth.

Me:  Well, not that one.

MaMa:  Wait, wait, wait.  Does that remark mean you think that there are cottonmouths you think you're faster than?

Me:  Do you want to hear this story or not?

MaMa:  No, no I don't.  I've been telling my lady friends how handsome and smart my grandchildren are but for you I'll just have to stick to handsome.

Me:  I HAVE FANG MARKS IN MY T-SHIRT!!!!!

MaMa:  Tommy Higgins, you are living proof that luck is more important than intelligence.

Tom Higgins, Jr.