Saturday, July 9, 2005

The War of Southern Aggression (part 2)

So there I was, exiled to a little green tent. The mosquitoes were fierce and resourceful, I might add; at times they were carrying lanterns!

That first night I tossed and turned; the sounds coming from my cabin were frightful! As I told you, the one they called 'Pass' was their leader -- some sort of Guru. All night long he conjured deities from the netherworld with indescribable groanings. The others with him began to imitate his moaning and haunting chants -- they were all caught up in the delirium of their mystic sage.

"COFFEE! I WANT COFFEE!" As that first dawn broke, a fearful roar that scattered the wildlife and nearly scared the sun away, started my day. Trembling, I made my way to the cabin and reluctantly lifted the latch and opened the door. There he stood, his silver mane going every which way, a grizzle of white beard covered his face. He looked ten feet wide! For a moment, I stood frozen.

"I want coffee!" Blurred eyes stared down at me. He started to raise his huge right hand, tanned and powerful from the many battles with the Bass family. I thought I would soon be dead --thankfully, he just needed to scratch. Carefully, I made my way to the old fashioned camp coffee pot and began to scoop Maxwell's finest grounds into the percolator basket. When I had put in the fifth scoop, a voice behind me whispered, "Is it done yet?"

The voice was Royce. I turned and there he lay on the camp floor. I answered his question, but he didn't hear me. He had earplugs in. His kind eyes and gentle demeanor seemed so out of place amongst such rabble. "He's crazy, man. Just get that coffee made. And make him some Wampum." he said.

"Wampum? What is wampum?" I asked.

"See that can of biscuits? Just wampum on the counter til they open! Get em cooked. He's safer when he's fed."

Immediately, I responded to Royce's instruction and lived to see another day.

No comments:

Post a Comment