cartwright
UKC Forum Member
Registered: Sep 2008
Location: HUNTERS HAVEN, WV
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A funny story
The Great Racoon Hunt
by P.D. Fawcett
One brisk Fall evening, I was sitting over my chessboard pondering over my next move in a obscure opening I had sprung on my unsuspecting chess friend, "Manny the Mangler." I gave Manny that name as he thrashes me on a regular basis. After looking in all my old chess opening books, I stumbled on the "Grob". HAH!!! I got him now!
Manny & I have been playing chess every Monday night for.......well, I can't remember for how long. I guess I tolerate Manny because he always brings the snacks. Tonight he brung potato chips, kosher pickles, canned sardines, and a large bowl of beanie wienie. To the uninformed, beanie wienie is truely an American concoction of pork and beans with wienies cut up & thrown in. No wienies? Then any type of meat that's been in the fridge fermenting for 2-3 weeks will do. Just as Manny snatches my d4 pawn and with a resounding ' THUMP ' on my chess table, the phone rings. "Hey! Wanna go coon hunting"? Even though my brain has not yet recovered from my loss of my d4 pawn, the word "hunting" has me wide-eyed and bushy tailed.
Being an avid hunter/fisherman/outdoorsman, I'm always ready for a trek into the wilderness! "Hey, ya awake"?, says Lenny. Lenny, long time comrade of many years. Lenny and I have had many memorable days afield (and some I'd rather forget). Lenny is as buggy as I am about hunting, fishing and other various outdoor sports.
"Ya, I'm awake. Gimme details. Who, what, where and when"?
Short pause. "Me, you and Gilbert. Tomorrow. Call ya later. Mavis got loose again," says Lenny. Click! Lenny gone. He knows I still have reservations going anywhere with Gilbert, also known as "Gilbert the Gimp". Our last little foray with Gilbert resulted in the sinking of a $7000 bass boat, catching Big Eddie's Bait Shop on fire and a night in the Hoosegow, sharing a cell with some large hairy guy, named "Arnie the Arm". But, that is another story. Waking my wife at 3 a.m., for bail money, isn't something I relished. Even though that was years ago, I'm reminded from time to time about hanging about with Gilbert the Gimp. (He got the name "Gimp" from trying to escape the burning bait shop and tripping over a stuffed kangaroo).
Back to Mavis". Could either be Lenny's ever tolerant wife or his prized Blue Tick hound. After spending $1100 on Mavis(Blue Tick), he thought he could appease Mavis(ever-tolerant wife), by naming the thing after her. After 3 nights of sleeping with Mavis(Blue Tick), Lenny was let back in the house, but on probation.
Even though I fancy myself as an accomplished woodsman who could be dropped buck-naked,in the forest, in January, no food or water and still survive quite handily living off roots, berries, grubs, tree bark and other such ilk, I still get a twitch thinking about being in a forest with Gilbert the gimp, at night.
Phone rings. Lenny. "OK, me and the Gimp will pick ya up at 10 p.m., tomorrow. Be ready this time." O.k, I'll be ready and don"t let the Gimp have anything that can hurt us."
Sneaking into my hunting stuff, I hear a "Huuumph! Where you off to"? I mumble, "coon hunting." "And with who"? Martha says , with one eyebrow on a slant. "Lenny," I said. "And"? "Ok, Gilbert." Good Lord, don't call me at 3 a.m., call Mavis(ever-tolerant wife)?, Martha says.
Having never been coon hunting, what to wear? Maybe my brand new $300 LL Bean brushed cotton pants and shirt, which are guaranteed to stay as soft as a young girl's bottom, even after 100 washings. Of course, me layered cotton bobber hat with fast release chin strap has to go!! Ok, all ready to set off into the wilds in search of the evasive coon or any other beastie that happens to cross my path!! HooooooooRaaaaaaah! Male Testosterone is a wondrous thing!
After work, I rush home, don me gear, wolf down some raw meat, belch 2 times and fart once. Take a nap till I hear the horn blow. Out the door and into Lenny's '52 Ford pick-up. I squeeze the Gimp in the middle so as to control anything he might do. I hear Mavis(Blue Tick), and Buzzard(Redbone) in the back. Off we go at a break-neck speed of 30 mph(all it can do). 45 minutes later, Lenny pulls off into a little clearing at the front of the woods. Mavis and Buzzard straining at the leash to get on a hot track. Lenny says I should be honored to be allowed to partake in a coon hunt, as he and the Gimp rarely take a rookie along! (Group hug)
"Did you bring a flashlight?" asks Lenny. "Well, no", I said, with head hung down. "No matter, Gimp has an extra". Lenny and the Gimp pull out a helmut looking thing with a large light attached to the front. I ask, "What's those"? Gimp responds with a grin, "Wheat lights, 10,000,000,000 candle power!" The Gimp reaches behind the seat and after extracting a month old ham and swiss on rye, drags out a flashlight(?). Thing is 4 feet long, 20 pounds-(with 12 double D batteries). Lenny says, "Are we all ready?" Gimp unleashes Mavis and Buzzard, who promptly hikes his leg and pees on Lenny's pant leg. "Buzzard, you stupid dog, it's camouflage, not a tree," yells Lenny. I swear I saw Mavis grin.
Getting all our "possibles" ready, Lenny sets loose Mavis and Buzzard. "What now?" I ask, as I keep an eye on the Gimp. "We start a little fire till we hear the dogs strike a track", Lenny says. I'm thinking to myself, this coon hunting is ok!
"Got any matches, anybody?", asks the Gimp. "Nope", me neither. "No matter, I'll ge 'er lit," mumbled the Gimp. Before me and Lenny can jump back, the Gimp has dragged out a can of gasoline, pours some on the logs, and with an old Zippo lighter he found in Lenny's glove box, lights a piece of paper and throws it on the gas-soaked logs. In a blinding flash of light and a thunderous "WHOOSH", which knocked Lenny to the ground, we have fire!! "Ugh, fire good, fire friend" laments the Gimp. "Jeese, Gimp," whimpers Lenny.
I notice(after my eyes get accustomed to the dark again), Lenny is looking off into the darkness. "What's out there, Lenny?" I ask. "Nothing yet", Lenny whispers. "Ya yet," replies the Gimp. "Think we oughta tell him?" says the Gimp. "Ya, better tell him," Lenny whispers. Fire Demon O,k, Hawk(my wilderness name), keep on the lookout for the "Great Fire Demon", says the Gimp. "Fire Demon?" I ask. The Gimp explains, "he seems to only come when we bring a new guy on a coon hunt". "9 feet tall, all covered in fire and runs like the wind", says the Gimp, now shaking. "Seen it twice, myself", Lenny remarks.
"Humph, old wives' tale," says Hawk. "You'll see! you'll see!" says the Gimp.
"Crunch, crunch". "He's here, he's here!!" screams Lenny. "Hello, the fire!" It's old Suggers and his son, Ronnie. Farmers that live down the road. "Seen a ball-o-fire a bit ago, come to investigate. Lookee here, Ronnie, it's Lenny, the Gimp and Hawk," grins Suggers. "Coon hunting again, boys?" inquires Suggers. "Yup," replies Lenny. "I take it the ball-o-fire was the Gimp?" inquires Suggers. Red-faced, the Gimp confesses, "well, kinda". "Come on, Ronnie, we gotta git before the Gimp does something else," says Suggers, while backing away and keeping a sharp eye on the Gimp.
"Ok, guys, I wanna do some 'coon huntin', what are we waiting for?" asks Hawk. "We waiting for the dogs to strike a trail, ya will be able to tell by their bark", Lenny informs me rather dryly. About 5 minutes later, we hear one of the dogs let loose with a long drawn howl.
"Jeese, what was that?" asks a wild-eyed Hawk!! "That's Mavis!! She got a hot trail!!!"
"Put the fire out and let's git on it!!!" screeches Lenny. In a leap and bound Lenny and the Gimp disappear into the darkness, leaving me to stomp out the fire. After nearly melting the soles off my also new LLBean waterproof, blizzard proof, snakebite proof camo boots, I get it out. By this time I'm engulfed in total darkness!!! Searching for my 4 foot, 20 pound flash light, I find it next to the gas can. "Nope, not a chance, I'll go without it!!"
I take off in the direction I saw Lenny go. I can faintly hear the dogs and Lenny hollering at the Gimp to keep up. Trying to make up some time and yet picking my way thru the brush, I run as fast as I dare. Getting tangled in bushes, tree branches slapping me severely about the head and ears, my face covered in spider webs, I think, "why am I here?" Gad, I hate spiders.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see "things". Dark shapes, watching me. Movement on the left, faster I go. Beasties that only come out at night looking for hapless 'coon hunters. I pull my chinstrap tighter on my layered cotton bobber hat. Not minding the slapping branches or the spider webs, I run even faster to catch up to the guys before those horrid shadows with the long white fangs snatch me up and drag me back to their nest to feed me to their young. "I LOVE YOU, MOM!!", (just in case I don't make it!) Tears and blood streaming down my face and sweating like a 16 year old boy on his first date, I run faster!!!
Now I'm beginning to hack and wheeze. **** them ciggies. Ciggie, that's what I need!!!
Not wanting to stop for fear of the beasties with long white fangs and big red eyes catching up, I deftly unzip one of the 32 pockets that LL Bean so wisely attached to my $300 brushed cotton shirt. (32?) Not in that one. With my second choice, I can feel my pack of ciggies and free disposable lighter.(You get one with a carton of ciggies.) I manage to fish one out, and with a cupped hand, manage to fire that baby up!!!!! Sucking the wonderful smoke deep into my screaming lungs, I am at peace, one with nature. I hear Lenny and the dogs closer now and not moving away from me. I can see two 10,000,000,000 candlepower lights dancing thru the trees, just up ahead and down in a gully. "Hah, bring it on, you beasties!! Hawk not afraid of man nor beast!" Hah!! I can now just make out Lenny and the Gimp up ahead and Mavis and Buzzard looking up in a tree and howling their heads off. With my ciggie clenched in my teeth, I rush headlong down the hill into the gully. SMACK!!! A branch smacks me in the face and in a shower of sparks, knocks my beloved ciggie out of my yap. Now I realize the sparks have caught my cotton bobber hat on fire! Wanting to save what little hair I have left and to keep one step ahead of the beasties, I keep running and try to undo my chinstrap and shed the hat. Running with your head aflame is asinine. Wind whipping the burning hat into a big ball of fire, I come into sight of the Gimp. "Fire Demon, fire demon, run for ya life!!" screams the Gimp. Not able to yell, I keep running at them. Buzzard spys the spectacle running down the hill and promptly pees on Lenny's leg. "Stupid dog", as Lenny kicks at Buzzard. "Grab the dogs, Gimp", bellows Lenny. "Hell with the dogs, it's every man for himself", says the Gimp, while picking up a large stick to try to beat the awesome fire demon to a pulp with.
As I get closer, the Gimp has a change of heart and chucks the log at Mavis. "ATTACK,MAVIS!!!" Mavis(being the smarter of the bunch, including the mighty hunters), backsteps and disappears into the brush. Lenny has taken the "every man for himself" to heart and crashes thru the brush, leaving the Gimp, Mavis and Buzzard to their own devices. Lenny figures he will gain time while the demon is mangling the Gimp. I can hear Lenny faintly saying, "be the wind, be the wind". Buzzard is hot on Lenny's heels. The Gimp is crying now and saying something to the effect of, "never again, never again". With me 20 yards away, the Gimp turns and follows Lenny's trail of broken branches. For a man with a bum leg, the Gimp is cat-quick. I finally get the stupid chin strap loose and chuck the thing in the Gimp's direction. At that very moment, he looks back and sees the "burning head" flying at him, through the air. "Lord, help me. please!", stutters the Gimp. "Lenny, Lenny, watch out for his head!!" With the burning hat now gone, I stop, fall to the ground. I can't run any more. Hearing a rustling in the bushes, I think, "I'm done for, come get me beasties!!" Slowly turning my head, I spot Mavis coming out of the brush. Wagging her tail, she comes up, looks at me and sniffs twice. With a friendly lick on my beat up face, she turns, heads for Lenny and the Gimp's trail. With one last look at me, as if to say, "come on, fire demon, I'll take you home!". I get up and stumble after her. I swear I saw Mavis grin.
In about an hour, Mavis leads me back to the truck, where Lenny is leaning over the truck, trying to catch his breath. The Gimp is in the truck with the windows rolled up and the doors locked. "Hawk!! You made it!!" cries Lenny. "Did ya see it, did ya see it?", asks Lenny.
Should I or shouldn't I?" Long live the "Great Fire Demon".
Tired and worn to a frazzle, we get in the truck and head for home. The Gimp refuses to let us roll down the windows. "That head is still out there, floatin' around", he says.
None of us say much on the way home, but, as I looked out the window of the truck, I swear I saw red eyes. Dropping me off at my house, Martha greats me at the door. "Huumph, told you so!"
"Coon hunting!" Think I'll stick to chess. At least Manny brings snacks.
Hawk
Footnote: To this day, Buzzard has never turned up
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12-25-2012 05:15 PM
