I love funny stories. Whether it's writing them down on these pages or telling them in person to an audience, I love nothing more than telling funny. My favorites usually involve a prank or practical joke that was pulled on somebody in real life.

My love of stories and pranks was instilled at a young age while growing up in Mt. Holly.

Way back then, we didn't have a whole lot to do for fun and we didn't even have cable TV. All a fellow could do in those days for fun was to join the lifesaving crew or the volunteer fire department and wait around hoping something would catch on fire or for somebody to collapse so we could blow the siren.

While we sat around waiting for mayhem to occur we would also think up evilness to pull on people. Our inspiration for this meanness and deviltry came from stories the old timers told about a legendary prankster we didn't know and had never met. Fact was, we didn't even know his name, but the old timers wowed us tales of the pranks this man orchestrated in the late 1960's when he was the chief of police. We used to listen in awe at the stories of the "good ones" this man used to pull on people.

This man was so good he even convinced members of the police department at the time that the police station was haunted. He would tell them all about cold spots in the building and doors that slammed in the dead of night.

One cold winter night he almost scared a dispatcher to death when he sneaked up under the police station and slipped a walkie-talkie up through a hole in the floor. He then hid across the street and began to haunt. Every time the chief keyed the mike and made a ghostly noise, that dispatcher would run out the front door breathing heavy and would stand outside until the cold overcame his fear and forced him back inside. The chief would then wait a few minutes and let him have it again. This went on all night.

On another occasion, another dispatcher sent one of his police buddies to get him a hot dog. The chief intercepted this and slipped a rubber weenie in the hotdog bun. The poor boy ate half of it before he figured out anything was wrong. That clogged him up for several days but he didn't stay clogged up for long.

Not long after that, this same dispatcher who was also fond of hot chocolate had sent out for a cup full of that. The chief intercepted this too and doctored it up with a liberal dose of a popular chocolate laxative. It took two men to carry this fellow out and put him in his car the next morning. Three days later the town doctor called the chief to find what they had done to the man, because, as the doc said, this man was "now passing pure paragoric."

Us young'uns looked upon this man with honor and admiration even though we didn't know him and obviously had no hope of ever meeting such a world-class aggravator.

Then one day an amazing thing happened. As I was preparing two years worth of columns to be published in a book called Make Room in the Doghouse I determined I needed a cover befitting such a literary work of art. I'd heard of a retired County Policeman named Ralph Miller who was well known for his artistic ability. Ralph had retired before my time but I called him up and asked him if he could help me. To my delight Ralph was more than happy to oblige.

Several weeks later Ralph came by and gave me what can only be described as a good ol' boys' masterpiece. As he we sat around and visited, Ralph, knowing my love of a good story, began to tell me of some of the pranks he had pulled back in Mt. Holly in the late 1960's-when he was chief of police!

Here I was sitting at the foot of the master, the man who I'd looked up to all these many years. And to beat all, I found out Ralph is a Yankee from the same Yankee state as my Yankee wife.

It just goes to show you it's a small world after all, and that even Yankees, albeit on a very rare occasion, can be good ol' boys too. Ralph Miller certainly is the granddaddy of 'em all!

(W. S. "Bill" Melton is a Southern humorist, writer, motivational speaker and good ol' boy. He lives at Mt. Holly.)

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