JUNIOR 'June Bug' HILL!
Hell on squeakers and sneakers alike, Junior Hill is a little Mack truck on four legs. Don't let that charming face and dainty step fool you. He's packed with some super jumpin', runnin', and barkin' genes that he apparently inherited from his Mama, aka Superfit.
I recently took some time to interview Junie (as he likes "the ladies" to call him) on the eve of Super Bowl XLV. I asked him how he liked the biggest sports spectacle in the world being in his own backyard.
"What the hell is a super bowl?" he spurted at me, tongue still half inside the empty peanut butter jar he seems married to. "Is that where we get extra helpin's of dinner? When's dinner?"I moved on to other sports. Junior is quite the accomplished triathlete, earning superlative honors in running, swimming, and car-riding. "Once I figured out how to balance on the seat at 90 miles an hour, I knew I would get the gold," he modestly confided to me. "My Mama drives really fast, but I don't throw up every time. Sometimes she slams me into the dashboard. I get her back by leaving half my hide on the seat for her to wear to work. Sucker!"
I started to engage this boisterous boy in a bit of rhetoric about his epicurean tendencies when he, well, changed the subject. He interrupted me with a string of slurs against his Mama.
"The bitch likes to dress me. Do I LOOK like I like to be dressed up like a little sissy girl?" he screeched. "She's outfit me in parkas fit for Siberia ..."
"Like the Great Ri-Damn-Diculous Punkin' ..."
"And even frickin' Santa Claus." [That's him in the middle.]
"Yeah, I've worn all kinds of crap," said Junie, or "J-Man" as he's known in his 'hood. Poor thing has been the subject of such abuse, having endured costumes every Halloween and Christmas for years. He's worn life jackets and harnesses and T-shirts that make a statement. "Yeah, I need an 'I'mWifStoopid' shirt for my Mom!" he says, and I don't blame him.
Inside that tough-guy exterior is an even more fierce inner warrior, with only a touch of wanderlust. Once, after ripping a new toy to shreds, Junie took his Mama for a run down by the river to blow off some steam. Junie decided to follow his own whims. For several days, as he tells it, he ran the wilds of the Trinity River, protecting the good citizens of Fort Worth from the likes of "rabid bastard squirrels, dirty spying nutrias, and nosy honkin' geeses." Along the way, he befriended several fellow runners, all of whom he knows and calls by name."Hell, yeah!" he exclaims when asked about his river-running buddies. "I'm known as the Terror of the Trinity! Them bishes who don't take time for me gonna get some gnawin' on their leg if they don't watch out."
It's a warning I would heed if I were you.
I wanna meet this ladies man!
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