I don’t think that I need to point out the fact that crime is on the rise. Even if you don’t have a news channel or a police band radio or even a lowly newspaper, you know how it is.

Well, let me tell y’all about a solution that has worked for me over the past eight years, a proven process that discourages burglars, trespassers, malignant neighbors and other things that slither in the night and has thus far protected my meager passengers: The Ricky Harpole Look Alike Dummy.

I was temporarily living in a shack in my friend’s front yard out at Coles Point, to be near the studio. One dark rainy night while I was half asleep at the desk in the back room, some local thieves attempted to liberate a four wheeler from the front yard and “theyda dunnit” if the dog hadn’t been on duty and the shotgun handy. Two shots in the air and three howls later (it wasn’t the howls of a dog) the merchandise was brought back into my custody.

I got to thinkin, it coulda been worse. If I had been fully asleep or the dog had been drinking (or vice versa) they might have pulled it off. They had, after all “escaped” and they could very well be seeking revenge and retaliation at any moment.

A few days later I spotted a mannequin in a dumpster. It was mostly complete, except that it was a she and was missing one hand and a toe. If I were to pad this dummy up in the right places and put my old vest on it along with a wig left over from Halloweens past, the missing hand and toe could be duplicated with one latex glove and a pair of retired and smelly boots. The boots alone were a fair deterrent.

I then proceeded to whack about four inches off of my 14’’ beard and glue it to the face. When the transformation was complete, it was a “reasonable facsimile” of me.

I moved my office to the front room of the shack and placed the dummy in a rolling chair so it could substitute for me when I was absent, in full view of the front yard. Lord knows those raiders must have thought I was a workaholic or an insomniac (they already knew I was a maniac on account of the dog and shotgun episode), so my goods were secure for the duration of my stay.

The dummy stood diligently at its post until this year with its trousers lowered and its plastic backside shining from the uncurtained window for all Coles Point to see.

Last week I retrieved the dummy and offered it a new position at a new site in Tallahatchie County, in my front yard, with a new-used hat and a wig that matches my hair. Since the dummy is obviously unemployed, it took the job.

Well, Monday I had the guard dummy propped in a lawn chair when a new neighbor pulled up at the gate and asked if a truck on the premises was for sale and would we like a beer?

I replied, “Certainly.”

It turned out he didn’t want the truck because it was the wrong model but he brought me and the dummy a beer and he didn’t notice the difference ‘til it was too late.

I’m glad that dummy is a teetotaler.

An associate who checks on my miscreant behavior from time to time came by today. He said one of his friends asked him if I lived in that lawn chair.

Jeff, who has known the dummy for years, said, “Naw, he just likes to sit about a lot. Drop in on him with a beer some time and talk to him. He could use some social input. Sometimes he don’t have a lot to say.”

I guess it ain’t who you are, it’s who you look like.

Dumb as ever,

Ryki Harpo