A tale of the huntWritten by Gregory J. Ballan
Continued from page 1
"Dude, they're cops!" I whispered in a panic. Before I could say or do anything else, a voice ordered us to drop our weapons. "What weapon?" I shouted suddenly realizing that I was holding a 28 inch razor sharp machete. Realization spawned panic and panic spawned fear. I dropped machete as did Brian. We were ordered to approach slowly with our hands up. As we got closer I realized that two of six police officers had guns pointing at us. Thankfully I had relieved myself a few times in woods and it saved me embarrassment of losing entire contents of my bladder right there on spot. I glanced up at Brian, and he seemed totally oblivious to our dire predicament. He was trying to engage police in conversation and that's when it happened. He reached inside his camo jacket for note from Virgina Huneywell. Everything moved in slow motion at that point and I prepared my body to be violated with burning slugs of lead. I flinched and closed my eyes and awaited inevitable while cops were screaming and yelling. The next thing I remember was one of these fine police officers introducing me, face first, to hood of my truck. I was stripped of my stand and hunting pack and told not to move. Barney Fife started rummaging through my pack like he was expecting to find drugs or God only knows what sort of illegal contraban. He shouted something an pulled out a glass vial. "Oh Shit" I whispered. "Don't open that!" I advised more strongly than I should have. Barney deliberately ignored me, opened container and took a big sniff... of Doe piss. He swore and gagged as he dropped glass container on pavement shattering it and spilling much of contents on his pants and shoes. There went $25.00 I paid for this special Doe in Estrous pee fresh from doe farm. I swear I tried not to laugh, but other cops were laughing and I couldn't help myself. Barney came across another spray bottle and studied it. He looked at me as if awaiting an explanation. "Mock Skunk gland extract" I announced. "It's a potent scent mask, just a tiny spray covers and masks human odor during a stalk." ($14,95 from Gander Mountain in Appleton WI) Barney rolled his eyes and took plastic top of sprayer. "Sir, please, it's really.." Too late! PSSSSTT!! Barney let loose a full shot and had all of us gagging. Brian was having better luck than I was, and police officer he was talking to was too busy laughing his ass off as he studied letter that I was convinced would have killed us both. "They're harmless Mike; give 'im back his stuff before you make more wonderful smells everywhere." Mike tossed my pac at me and I caught it, grateful for being allowed up off hood. The other officer informed us of calls that had inundated both Natick and Wellesley police stations about two crazy knife wielding maniacs running amok in night. The Officers claimed that each call was more panicky and exaggerated than prior and that they had no choice but to assume that threat was real. After they ran our ID's , ran plates of my vehicle, we all shared a good laugh as they recalled look on my face when Brian went for his note. I confessed that I was convinced we were dead and they all laughed again. Everyone but Mike, he still smelt like Doe Pee. I told him stuff washes out but he didn't seem to amused. We quickly departed and headed back to Brian’s house. Between getting lost and being detained, I was long past due going home. I debated about telling Mrs. Esper this tale of woe. She's often observed that whenever I go off with Brian to do stuff, bad things always seem to happen, like time we went Turkey Hunting and were being hunted ourselves.... But, that's still another story for another time.Be well all, and I hope you had a good chuckle
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| | I LEFT MY TOES IN TUKTOYAKTUKWritten by Theolonius McTavish
Continued from page 1
Second piece of advice…ignore weather forecasts (they’re about as reliable as a crapshoot in this country). Just bring along a big bumbershoot (capable of handling two months of something called “heavy precipitation”). Be prepared to brandish a large can of bug-repellent at least sign of black-flies (that appear during a one-month season called “summer”). And whatever you do, don’t forget to buy a six-pack of premium beer to wash down all bugs (and warm cockles of your heart so you can cope with other 11 months of brisk temperatures, blustery breezes and blinding blizzards). Third piece of advice, use your imagination and figure out what you might want to find in a large-print, picture book called “A Manual on Moose, Mosquitoes & Mukluks”. Hint: You might want to explore following: (1) why Santa Claus moved with his far-fetched family to North Pole to set up a toy shop; (2) why some smelly soul called “Sasquatch” likes to hang out in provincial parks; and (3) why Snow White decided not to invest in cottage country because a carnivorous creature called “Little Red Riding Hood” got there first and devoured three French-speaking hens (who knows why), two calling birds (who probably wouldn’t shut up) and a big bad wolf (who was on sale at butcher shop for $8.95 plus 7% GST). Fare thee well Oh Canada. And, as a token of my deepest affection for your weed-whacking wilderness, wretched weather, and weird ways…may you enjoy my tingling toes, tidily pum. Because after walking in someone else’s moccasins and mukluks for a month or two, I now know why deer and antelope, not to mention beaver and bear, plus ‘Abominable Person of Snow’ all call this problematical place “home”.
Theolonius McTavish, can be found lollgagging and lounging about like the lip-laboured, long-in-the-mouth mystery man he is in the company of other boisterous boffins and bird-duffers at www.quippingqueen.blogspot.com
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