Nice try, Sparky.
I’ll retell the story to see if it jogs your memory.
Let me tell you about Sparky.
Sparky was an annoying little ankle-biter; a real pissant.
Sparky was a Chihuahua; couldn’t have weighed more than three pounds.
I grew up in the 1950s and early 1960s. We were Baby Boomers. Every house in the neighborhood had kids. One of our neighbors had a Chihuahua named Sparky. Sparky would always sneak up behind us, snarling, and nip at our heels and ankles.
Sparky was usually let out in the front yard to take his little rat-sized craps.
One day Sparky met his fate. One of the kids in the neighborhood was riding his bike along the sidewalk in front of Sparky’s house. The kid had his bike all decked out with old playing cards attached to the frame by wooden clothes pins, such that they would be struck by the rotating spokes and make a high-pitched rumbling sound like a small engine. Well, Sparky went after the back tire of that bike and tried to nip it, but he caught his teeth in the spokes and in a flash he was smooshed between the wheel and the frame and the bicycle seat. Sic transit Sparky.
Anyway, about a month or two later, four of us kids (we were, I think, 12 at the time) got together behind the garage to smoke; one of the kids had copped a couple of his mom’s cigarettes. Well, we’re back there, sharing the smokes (there were two cigarettes and four of us, so we doubled up), and one of the kids’ little sister showed up. She must have been about 4 or 5 years old, a couple front teeth missing, and hair in dog-ear pigtails. She kind of whistle-hissed (missing front teeth, you know): “I’m gonna tell mom on you!” Well, one of us – not her brother – just looked at her and said, “Get lost, Sparky.”
And, it just evolved from there.
From that time on we called any whiny, bratty, sneaky, tattle-tale, Sparky. You know; any annoying little shit.
Not only are you a poltroon - you’re a foul-mouthed poltroon, Sparky.
“I’ll retell the story to see if it jogs your memory. Let me tell you about Sparky. Sparky was an annoying little ankle-biter; a real pissant.”
Thank you for retelling the story of Sparky.
The ultimate definition.
Funny! and I remember those same great days. With playing cards in our bicycle spokes. And most boys were willing to take bike wheels etc apart. I replaced spokes on my ten speed and balanced the wheels. America was America. We manufactured most of what we needed. No abortions and no trade deficits. Only trade surpluses and a great economy except for minor recessions.