In the Country...

My bro and I decided to check out the state of some rivers and streams for fly fishing, today. So, I'm driving his big MF'n 1972 Suburban (The Banana Wagon) and he's sitting quietly looking out the window, when he pulls out this freakin' Hostess fruit pie out of nowhere. I'm all like, "Where in the hell did that come from?" I didn't see him come in with the fruit pie and we sure as hell didn't stop at a grocery store or gas station. I thought he was friggin' David Copperfield. He sighed and then mumbled that he had it in the saddle pouch in his seat cover. So, my next question for him is, "Well, where's my damn fruit pie, then?" He kind of looked around his jalopy and came up with all sorts of crap, like jerky, chips, Little Debbie stuff, and on and on.

"I thought that you were trying to lose weight, man? What are you doing with all this stuff?" I felt a little pissed, because I don't want to get a double hernia when I'm his paul bearer. So, after he just kind of ignored those questions, I asked, "What are you gonna do next, pull a leg of lamb out of my damn ear?" It was about that time that the worst smell came wafting in the Sub. This lightened the mood a bit. I went first, "Oh, shit, that is awful. It smells like someone wiped their ass with a dead skunk." My brother's contribution, "And they forgot to clean themselves, too." Then my turn, again, "What? That didn't make any sense. No, they took the dead skunk and fashioned a makeshift diaper, crapped themselves, then wrapped their ass in visquine and stood out in the sun for five hours, took the remains and threw it in a wood chipper." My brother, "Then they burnt the skunk." Me, "The dang skunk is all shredded, man! How you gonna burn that?" Brother, "With matches".

So, down the road we see what we think is evidence: a medium-sized mound of hairy flesh. I remark, "What's that, some deformed dog?" My brother catches a better glimpse, "No, it's a goat." Me, "But, it doesn't seem to smell that bad." The smell got worse the farther away we got from the goat corpse. Down the road about two-hundred yards, my brother notices something, "Hey, farmer John over there is burning a big pile of shit, and something else." We couldn't identify the magic ingredient besides the hay and shit, but damn, it reeked! The thing that was funny was this farmer guy had a big grin on his face. He must've been trying to piss his neighbors off or something.

We got to a popular spot on the river, below a reservior, and a fish and game officer was hassling some kids. We didn't get our licenses yet, but had our gear. We weren't going to poach, honest:) So, I say to my brother, "Looks like Ranger Bob over there is giving out his number." My brother says, "Hello little Billy, I'm Ranger Bob. Do you want to touch my flashlight?" We have no respect for authority.

After our scouting trip, we determined that the water was too swift and muddy, from the spring run off, for good fishing. So, we went to a good mom and pops diner for a quick lunch. It was there that I got an answer to a question that I've had for a long time: Would I ever do it with a dwarf?

I know that the question is discriminatory and insensitive, but if I had said "little person", then I'm sure some might think I was a pedophile. Anyways, the answer is, yes. I used to play a game called "Would you do her?" with my friend "18-hole". Let's just say that there really wasn't any way of winning this game, just a way to reveal how much of a slut you were. So, I did say once that I'd do the old chick from "Who's the Boss?". Does that make me sick?

Back to the story: There was this "little lady" working as a server at the diner, not our server, though. I must say that she was pretty. Once I played my little game in my head, I started to feel really awful that I had. It was wrong to think like this, and I started to wonder what her life was like and other things about her. It was then that I went past the thoughts of the "deed" and thought about what it would be like to be married to a little person, have little people as children, and how family and friends would accept us. My conclusion was that I would be fine with it; actually, it wouldn't even matter--it would be great. We could have the coolest miniature home on the block, a couple of yorkies, and horseback riding would be less dangerous on shetlands, anyway. It was then that I noticed that she had a wedding ring on. Ceste la vi.

A fun thing to do out in the country is the "wave fake". This is fun because all these friendly country folk like to wave at you when you pass down the road, like you know them. So, my favorite move is the "put the hand up, hold it in the air, get them to wave, then brush back your hair with said hand while they can still see you. Is this amusing, or just mean and stupid? It's great, though, when you can see them get all embarrassed or pissed off.

Coming back, I was getting real punchy-tired, and started saying the word "titantic" over and over again. It just didn't sound right to me at all, titantic. Of course, the word is titanic, but this did not deter me from trying to figure out the incorrect version's phonemic oddity. I had my brother a little worried by then, because I started making up my own lyrics to songs. Example, Eddie Money's "Two Tickets to Paradise" chorus: "I've got flu rickets and head lice. Put it on a plate with some wild rice. Eat it up it tastes so nice. Na na na na, na na, na na, na na!" This bugs the ever-lovin' shit out of him when I do this. Good times.