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Note to Mossy Feet Books Followers

A glitch in my old web site has somehow locked me out, leaving me unable to update the site. I have switched to another service and in the process of moving the entire site to the new service. The old web site is still online. For the time being many of the links on the new site will take you to the old one, which is still functional. Since there were over 400 posts on the old site, it will take some time for me to switch it all over. The new posts will be on the new site, so it may be a bit confusing until the transition is complete. Thank you for your patience until this lengthy process is complete.

Tall Stories From the Liar’s Bench

Tall Stories From the Liar’s Bench
These funny tall tales are anything but true. This classic collection of homespun humor as told by the two men on the Liar’s Bench in Seldon’s Barbershop amuses and sometimes astounds the other occupant of the barbershop, Jason Wells. You will laugh at the hilarious tales spun by the rascals on the liar’s bench.
Sample Chapter
Softbound – $6.99

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Download the Mossy Feet Books catalog today for great reading.

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© 2018 Paul Wonning

Sample Chapter – Short History of Public Parks – Indiana Edition

Sample Chapter

Short History of Public Parks – Indiana Edition

Indiana State Park System

Indiana currently has 28 state parks located throughout the state. The goal of the Department of Natural Resources is to have a state park located within an hour’s drive of every Hoosier. As part of its resource management plan, the state park system strives to provide parks that allow Hoosiers to experience the mature forests and prairies that existed prior to settlement and to interpret the state’s early history. Richard Lieber provided the early vision and drive to establish the park system and is considered the founder of the Indiana state park system.

Founder of the Indiana State Park System

Richard Lieber (September 5, 1869 – April 15, 1944)

The son of son of wealthy parents, Otto and Maria Henriette Julie Richter Lieber, Richard was native to St. Johann-Saarbrucken, Germany. As a child, he suffered a chest injury, which led to an illness that made it difficult to attend school. Thus, he received much of his education from private tutors.

Immigration to Indiana

To fulfill his parent’s desire to learn English, he traveled to London, England after graduating from secondary school. In England, he visited various museums and historic sites. In 1891, he came to Indianapolis, Indiana in to join two uncles who had immigrated there. He eventually became an American citizen. He worked as a reporter for the Indiana Tribune and married the owner’s daughter, Emma Rappaport. After visiting Yosemite National Park, the Rocky Mountains of Idaho and Montana in 1900, he became an ardent conservationist. President Theodore Roosevelt held the Conference of Governors in 1908, which Lieber attended as a delegate. He wrote a series of articles promoting Indianapolis as the site for the Fourth National Conservation Congress in 1912. He succeeded in his effort, and served as the chairman. During World War I, Indiana governor James Goodrich appointed Lieber as his military secretary. He bestowed the rank of Colonel on him, which Lieber used from then on.

Founder of Indiana State Park System

As Indiana’s centennial approached, Lieber began advocating for a state park system. Because of his efforts, Turkey Run and McCormick’s Creek State Park were established in 1916 without public funds. Lieber believed that the state park system should be self-supporting as much as possible. To help achieve this he advocated that the parks charge visitors a fee to enter. He established the state park inn system to help add to the state park system’s cash flow. The admission policy and state park inn system were revolutionary concepts during that time.

Director of Indiana State Department of Conservation

Lieber received the appointment of Director of the Indiana State Department of Conservation at its inception in 1919. He served in that post until 1933. Lieber gained a national reputation as the architect of the Indiana State Park System, which many other states modeled. He acted as a consultant for many of the states that wished to set up a similar system and organized the first gathering of state park personnel on a national level. He hosted the convention at Turkey Run State Park in 1921. During his tenure, the state park system grew to ten parks and five state memorials.

Death at McCormick’s Creek

Lieber passed away while visiting McCormick’s Creek in 1944. Visitors to Turkey Run State Park will find the Richard Lieber Memorial east of Turkey Run Inn behind the Log Church. The Memorial contains the ashes of the founder of the Indiana State Park system.

Rich Woman’s Dog

Rich Woman’s Dog

Paul R. Wonning

Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection

Bernie Fuller was a dog. He enjoyed women. In fact, Bernie enjoyed a lot of women. Being a dog did create problems. Right now his problems were named Kate and Melanie. His amorous activities with Kate the previous night extended into the morning hours. He overslept. He awoke, looked at the clock and bolted from bed. He could tell from the look on her face that Kate wanted him to stay. He showered, dressed and roared off on his motorcycle, leaving Kate pouting in her bed.
Now he was late for his breakfast date with Melanie. His head was still clouded with wine, and his judgment was hazy. He gunned the motorcycle as he sped down the straightaway. The curve came up faster than he anticipated.
Too fast, the motorcycle entered the curve. Its rubber tires clawed at the loose gravel. The bike left the road, vaulted the ditch and slammed into a massive oak tree. A flock of crows resting in the tree were startled into flight by the impact, crying “caw, caw, caw,” as they flew off. Centrifugal force flung Bernie into a woven wire fence, which was nailed to the base of the tree. A honeysuckle vine covered the fence, bright with yellow blooms. It hummed with bees gathering the nectar. He fell at the base of the fence. His blood flowed, enriching the fragrant green grass beneath him. He was conscious only of pain. Blackness swallowed his last vision of the blue summer sky.
Bernie opened his eyes. He raised his head and glanced around at an unfamiliar room. Why was everything so tall? He realized that he was lying on a pillow in a box on the floor. He looked down at his hands. Instead of hands he saw furry little white paws.
“Strange,” he said. But what he heard was “Arf.”
A heavy set woman wearing a brightly flowered dress entered the room. The crow’s feet around her eyes betrayed a much different age than indicated by her youthful looking blond hair.
“What’s wrong, Cuddles. Is my little baby hungry?” she asked as she looked at him through eyes heavy with mascara. The air was thick with her perfume.
Cuddles? What kind of a name was that?
“Arf,” he heard himself reply.
The woman left the room. Bernie could hear the sound of a cupboard door opening. The whirring sound of an electric can opener was followed by the clink of a can lid snapping open.
As he pondered his predicament, a scene which happened a few weeks earlier played through his memory.

The room above the Lester’s garage smelled of cigar smoke and stale beer. Bernie was playing poker with the boys, a cigar clenched between his teeth. The cards in his hand formed the worst hand of the night, and that was an accomplishment. His rent money lay in front of Moocher. He glanced at his remaining cash, strewn on the table in front of him.
He removed the cigar from his mouth and tapped it on the ashtray, knocking loose the powdery ashes on the end.
“I’m out,” he said, throwing his cards down. “This hand stinks.”
“You can’t quit after the cards are dealt,” Moocher said. “You have to play this one out.”
“I already lost my rent. If I lose this hand, the power company will shut off my electric.”
“You should have thought of that before you called that last bet,” Davy said.
Bernie looked at his tiny pile of cash on the table and thought about the dilapidated state of his finances. “When I die, I want to come back as some rich fat old lady’s dog,” he said. “Just lie around and sleep all day. Then eat chopped steak out of a silver bowl. What a life.”

His mind fast forwarded to the last thing he remembered. His motorcycle was a twisted wreck. He could see the blue, cloud studded sky. The scent of honeysuckle filled his senses. He could hear the sound of buzzing bees. Pain devoured his soul. Then there was blackness. He looked again at his furry little white paws. His lighthearted wish had come true. He hated yappy little dogs. And now he was one.
He looked back up at the lady. This is a dream. He wanted to pinch himself. But he had no fingers. Only furry little white paws.
“Come on, Cuddles, I’ve put your favorite treat in your bowl,” he heard the woman call.
He went into the kitchen, his claws clacking on the hard tile floor.
“There you go, Cuddles,” she said, placing the dish in front of him.
He looked at the disgusting mess in the bowl. He wasn’t going to eat that. It didn’t even smell good. His sensitive dog nose detected a savory fragrance emanating from the nearby dining table. He jumped up on a chair. A steak and baked potato stared up at him from a plate on the table. He lunged at it.
“Bad boy, bad Cuddles.” exclaimed the lady, as she swatted him on the behind. “Go eat your own food and get off the table.”
Bernie sulked back to his dish, looked at the contents, and turned up his nose.
A short time later, he heard the lady calling, “Cuddles, Cuddles, come here. We have company coming this afternoon. It’s time for you to get dressed.”
She began tying a lacy blue ribbon around his neck.
What the hell. This sissy stuff wasn’t going to fly. He snarled and snapped at her.
“What is with you today?” asked the woman. After a brief struggle she got the ribbon on him. She slipped some lacy little socks on his feet.
He ran into another room and tried to gnaw the ribbon off, but he couldn’t get to it with his teeth. The socks prevented him from digging his claws into it. He wondered what his poker buddies would say if they saw him in this sissy attire.
The doorbell rang, and he scampered off. He found himself staring up at the doorknob, jumping and barking in excitement.
The woman went to the door and opened it. A lady with frizzy red hair stood smiling on the step. Bernie, or Cuddles as he was now known, could see another lady with gray streaked dark hair pulled into a pony tail standing behind her.
“Hello, Buella,” said the red haired one through lips heavy with scarlet lipstick.
“Hello Myrtle. Hello Gert. Come on in,” Buella said.
The two entered the house, purses hooked on their arms. Gert pressed her host’s hand as she entered, and said, “It’s so nice of you to have us over.”
“It is my pleasure. I really enjoy our little weekly games. We are still waiting on Kay. I do hope she can make it.”
Great. A hen party. He wanted to gnaw a chair leg.
The doorbell rang again.
“That must be Kay,” Buella said as she opened the door. Outside stood the hottest chick Bernie had ever seen. Short skirt, black stocking covered long legs and high stiletto heels. He could feel his juices boiling. This party was starting to liven up.
As the women chatted, Buella served refreshments. This prompted discussions about recipes and other topics of little interest to Bernie.
Finally, the women sat down to play cards. Bernie laid down where he could get a good look at Kay’s long legs, her slim ankles crossed under the card table. Finally his hormones got the better of him. He scampered under the table mounted the legs and started humping furiously.
“My word,” exclaimed Kay. She kicked him off, her spike heel digging into his side. “What a naughty dog.”
He retreated with a squeal.
Buella was horrified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she exclaimed. “Cuddles hasn’t been acting himself today.” She picked him up and carried him to a closet. She put him inside and closed the door.
Well, this was a really crappy day. First he got killed. Then he woke up as a stupid poodle and had to eat dog food. When he finally got a hot chick in his clutches, he got kicked and stuck in a closet. What else could go wrong?
After a while, the conversation and laughter outside stopped. The closet door opened.
“Come out, Cuddles, you bad dog. I guess I have to make that appointment after all”.
Buella crossed the room, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, Family Vet Services? I need to make an appointment for my doggy, Cuddles. Yes, I need to get him neutered.”    
Neutered. Now wait a minute. This wasn’t working out at all the way he thought it should.

Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection



Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection
The ten short stories in this humorous collection will send your funny bone into overdrive. 
Sample Chapter
Softbound – $6.99
Buy direct from the Author
Available On:
Kindle
Amazon Softbound
Barnes & Noble
Barnes and Noble Softbound
Kobo
Apple
Google Play
Books2Read Universal Link:
Scribd
24 Symbols
Playster
Walmart Books

Visit Mossy Feet Books on Facebook


Available in multiple ebook formats and softbound

Wholesale Pricing Available
For more information, contact:
Mossyfeetbooks@gmail.com
Orders over $50.00 Free Shipping
Download the Mossy Feet Books catalog today for great reading.

Facebook
Mossy Feet Books

Twitter
Linkedin
YouTube
Pinterest
Paul Wonning’s Books on Amazon Page
Paul Wonning’s Books on Scribd Page
Draft 2 Digital – Universal Links
Paul Wonning’s Books on Apple
Paul Wonning’s Books on Kobo
Paul Wonning’s Books on Barnes and Noble
Paul Wonning’s Books on 24 Symbols
Paul Wonning’s Books on Google Play

Paul Wonning’s Books on Indigo

Paul Wonning’s Books on Playster

Paul Wonning’s Books on OverDrive

Search Paul Wonning on Ingrams
© 2018 Paul Wonning

Rich Woman’s Dog

Rich Woman’s Dog

Paul R. Wonning

Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection

Bernie Fuller was a dog. He enjoyed women. In fact, Bernie enjoyed a lot of women. Being a dog did create problems. Right now his problems were named Kate and Melanie. His amorous activities with Kate the previous night extended into the morning hours. He overslept. He awoke, looked at the clock and bolted from bed. He could tell from the look on her face that Kate wanted him to stay. He showered, dressed and roared off on his motorcycle, leaving Kate pouting in her bed.
Now he was late for his breakfast date with Melanie. His head was still clouded with wine, and his judgment was hazy. He gunned the motorcycle as he sped down the straightaway. The curve came up faster than he anticipated.
Too fast, the motorcycle entered the curve. Its rubber tires clawed at the loose gravel. The bike left the road, vaulted the ditch and slammed into a massive oak tree. A flock of crows resting in the tree were startled into flight by the impact, crying “caw, caw, caw,” as they flew off. Centrifugal force flung Bernie into a woven wire fence, which was nailed to the base of the tree. A honeysuckle vine covered the fence, bright with yellow blooms. It hummed with bees gathering the nectar. He fell at the base of the fence. His blood flowed, enriching the fragrant green grass beneath him. He was conscious only of pain. Blackness swallowed his last vision of the blue summer sky.
Bernie opened his eyes. He raised his head and glanced around at an unfamiliar room. Why was everything so tall? He realized that he was lying on a pillow in a box on the floor. He looked down at his hands. Instead of hands he saw furry little white paws.
“Strange,” he said. But what he heard was “Arf.”
A heavy set woman wearing a brightly flowered dress entered the room. The crow’s feet around her eyes betrayed a much different age than indicated by her youthful looking blond hair.
“What’s wrong, Cuddles. Is my little baby hungry?” she asked as she looked at him through eyes heavy with mascara. The air was thick with her perfume.
Cuddles? What kind of a name was that?
“Arf,” he heard himself reply.
The woman left the room. Bernie could hear the sound of a cupboard door opening. The whirring sound of an electric can opener was followed by the clink of a can lid snapping open.
As he pondered his predicament, a scene which happened a few weeks earlier played through his memory.

The room above the Lester’s garage smelled of cigar smoke and stale beer. Bernie was playing poker with the boys, a cigar clenched between his teeth. The cards in his hand formed the worst hand of the night, and that was an accomplishment. His rent money lay in front of Moocher. He glanced at his remaining cash, strewn on the table in front of him.
He removed the cigar from his mouth and tapped it on the ashtray, knocking loose the powdery ashes on the end.
“I’m out,” he said, throwing his cards down. “This hand stinks.”
“You can’t quit after the cards are dealt,” Moocher said. “You have to play this one out.”
“I already lost my rent. If I lose this hand, the power company will shut off my electric.”
“You should have thought of that before you called that last bet,” Davy said.
Bernie looked at his tiny pile of cash on the table and thought about the dilapidated state of his finances. “When I die, I want to come back as some rich fat old lady’s dog,” he said. “Just lie around and sleep all day. Then eat chopped steak out of a silver bowl. What a life.”

His mind fast forwarded to the last thing he remembered. His motorcycle was a twisted wreck. He could see the blue, cloud studded sky. The scent of honeysuckle filled his senses. He could hear the sound of buzzing bees. Pain devoured his soul. Then there was blackness. He looked again at his furry little white paws. His lighthearted wish had come true. He hated yappy little dogs. And now he was one.
He looked back up at the lady. This is a dream. He wanted to pinch himself. But he had no fingers. Only furry little white paws.
“Come on, Cuddles, I’ve put your favorite treat in your bowl,” he heard the woman call.
He went into the kitchen, his claws clacking on the hard tile floor.
“There you go, Cuddles,” she said, placing the dish in front of him.
He looked at the disgusting mess in the bowl. He wasn’t going to eat that. It didn’t even smell good. His sensitive dog nose detected a savory fragrance emanating from the nearby dining table. He jumped up on a chair. A steak and baked potato stared up at him from a plate on the table. He lunged at it.
“Bad boy, bad Cuddles.” exclaimed the lady, as she swatted him on the behind. “Go eat your own food and get off the table.”
Bernie sulked back to his dish, looked at the contents, and turned up his nose.
A short time later, he heard the lady calling, “Cuddles, Cuddles, come here. We have company coming this afternoon. It’s time for you to get dressed.”
She began tying a lacy blue ribbon around his neck.
What the hell. This sissy stuff wasn’t going to fly. He snarled and snapped at her.
“What is with you today?” asked the woman. After a brief struggle she got the ribbon on him. She slipped some lacy little socks on his feet.
He ran into another room and tried to gnaw the ribbon off, but he couldn’t get to it with his teeth. The socks prevented him from digging his claws into it. He wondered what his poker buddies would say if they saw him in this sissy attire.
The doorbell rang, and he scampered off. He found himself staring up at the doorknob, jumping and barking in excitement.
The woman went to the door and opened it. A lady with frizzy red hair stood smiling on the step. Bernie, or Cuddles as he was now known, could see another lady with gray streaked dark hair pulled into a pony tail standing behind her.
“Hello, Buella,” said the red haired one through lips heavy with scarlet lipstick.
“Hello Myrtle. Hello Gert. Come on in,” Buella said.
The two entered the house, purses hooked on their arms. Gert pressed her host’s hand as she entered, and said, “It’s so nice of you to have us over.”
“It is my pleasure. I really enjoy our little weekly games. We are still waiting on Kay. I do hope she can make it.”
Great. A hen party. He wanted to gnaw a chair leg.
The doorbell rang again.
“That must be Kay,” Buella said as she opened the door. Outside stood the hottest chick Bernie had ever seen. Short skirt, black stocking covered long legs and high stiletto heels. He could feel his juices boiling. This party was starting to liven up.
As the women chatted, Buella served refreshments. This prompted discussions about recipes and other topics of little interest to Bernie.
Finally, the women sat down to play cards. Bernie laid down where he could get a good look at Kay’s long legs, her slim ankles crossed under the card table. Finally his hormones got the better of him. He scampered under the table mounted the legs and started humping furiously.
“My word,” exclaimed Kay. She kicked him off, her spike heel digging into his side. “What a naughty dog.”
He retreated with a squeal.
Buella was horrified. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she exclaimed. “Cuddles hasn’t been acting himself today.” She picked him up and carried him to a closet. She put him inside and closed the door.
Well, this was a really crappy day. First he got killed. Then he woke up as a stupid poodle and had to eat dog food. When he finally got a hot chick in his clutches, he got kicked and stuck in a closet. What else could go wrong?
After a while, the conversation and laughter outside stopped. The closet door opened.
“Come out, Cuddles, you bad dog. I guess I have to make that appointment after all”.
Buella crossed the room, picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, Family Vet Services? I need to make an appointment for my doggy, Cuddles. Yes, I need to get him neutered.”    
Neutered. Now wait a minute. This wasn’t working out at all the way he thought it should.

Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection

Visit Mossy Feet Books on Facebook




Ten Funny Stories Complete Collection
The ten short stories in this humorous collection will send your funny bone into overdrive. 
Sample Chapter
Softbound – $6.99
Buy direct from the Author
Available On:
Kindle
Amazon Softbound
Barnes & Noble
Barnes and Noble Softbound
Kobo
Apple
Google Play
Books2Read Universal Link:
Scribd
24 Symbols
Playster
Walmart Books

Available in multiple ebook formats and softbound
Buy Paul Wonning’s At:

Wholesale Pricing Available
For more information, contact:
Mossyfeetbooks@gmail.com
Orders over $50.00 Free Shipping
Download the Mossy Feet Books catalog today for great reading.

Facebook
Mossy Feet Books

Twitter
Linkedin
YouTube
Pinterest
Paul Wonning’s Books on Amazon Page
Paul Wonning’s Books on Scribd Page
Draft 2 Digital – Universal Links
Paul Wonning’s Books on Apple
Paul Wonning’s Books on Kobo
Paul Wonning’s Books on Barnes and Noble
Paul Wonning’s Books on 24 Symbols
Paul Wonning’s Books on Google Play

Paul Wonning’s Books on Indigo

Paul Wonning’s Books on Playster

Paul Wonning’s Books on OverDrive

Search Paul Wonning on Ingrams
© 2018 Paul Wonning