Saturday, August 19, 2006

Another Richard Hemingway Story

HELLO MARSTON
THE OVERFLOW OF TOMATOES FROM MARGARET'S GARDEN SET THIS
RECOLLECTION OFF.
IN SUMMER, AFTER SCHOOL WAS LET OUT, MARSTON AND ELTON, STEVIE AND I WOULD DO OVERNIGHT SLEEPING IN TENTS SET UP IN OUR BACK YARDS BUT
THIS PARTICULAR YEAR MARSTON'S TENT WAS SET UP NEXT TO OURS IN OUR BACK YARD.

OUR MOTHERS, NESSIE AND LOUISA THOUGHT WE WERE TURNING OVER NEW
LEAVES THE WAY WERE RUNNING CHICKEN HOURS - EARLY TO BED, EARLY TO RISE. THE FIRST PERSON UP AFTER SUNDOWN FOR A LEAK WOULD CHECK TO SEE THAT ALL LIGHTS IN OUR HOUSES WERE OUT.

NOW, THE NIGHT SHIFT STARTED. WE HAD A HEAVY AGENDA OF ACCOMPLISHMENTS ON OUR TO-DO LIST, SUCH AS GO DOWN TO THE SEAWAY WHICH WAS STILL UNDER CONTRUCTION TO ADJUST BIG GIANT PUMPS TO WIDE OPEN AND JAM THE GOVERNOR. HAVING GOTTEN THIRSTY DOING THIS, WE HEADED OVER TO THE CADDY SHACK WHERE THERE WAS A SOFT DRINK MACHINE.

IT HAD A BIG LID THAT OPENED UP EXPOSING ALL THE DRINKS INSIDE BEING HELD IN RACKS BY THEIR NECKS. THE CAPS ON A FEW BOTTLES WERE REMOVED, AND SOMEBODY HAD A COUPLE OF STRAWS TO USE. THE BIGGEST PROBLEM WITH THIS WAS TRYING TO DRINK FAST AND NOT LAUGH, SO THE JUICE WOULDN'T COME OUT YOUR NOSE.

ON THAT NIGHT'S OUTING HEADING HOMEWARD, FLAGS ON GREENS WOULD BE MIXED WITH THE WRONG NUMBER HOLES. NOW BACK HOME, THE BLOODY GAZETTES WERE WAITING.ANOTHER EVENING'S SORTIE WOULD SEE US DOING TRAFFIC CONTROL. A SHORTCUT PATH RIGHT BESIDE THE MIDDLE OPEN SEWER CREEK TO THE GOLF COURSE WOULD BE WHERE WE WOULD LAY IN WAIT FOR ONE OR TWO PARTICULAR TARGETS.

ARMED WITH lOTS OF TOMATOES - GREEN, (OR RED WERE MUSHIER). ABOUT 2:15AM OR SO, LOSER'S PARADISE (LAPINIERE HOTEL) WOULD CLOSE AND ALL THE PISS TANKS WOULD ROAR OFF HOME IN A DRUNKEN HAZE. A DAZZLING 55 OLDSMOBILE WITH PURPLE LIGHTS IN THE WINDSHIELD, FOXTALES FLAPPING FROM THE ANTENNA, WINDOWS OPEN, RADIO BLASTING, AND THIS BLEARY EYED DRIVER, ROARING TOWARDS US AT HIGH SPEED WAS OUR TARGET OF CHOICE.

WE WOULD START LOBBING HIGH SHOTS, THEN STRAIGHT ON SHOTS, WHEN THE TOMATOES SPLATTED WE COULD HERE THE SHRIEKING AS THE DRUNKEN LOUT WOULD COME OUT OF HIS STUPOR, JAM ON THE BRAKES, TRYING TO FIND OUT HOW OR WHY, BY THEN WE WERE GONE.

RICHARD......
YA HAPPY BIRTHDAY AUG 3RD I THINK?

Close Aug 5.
Boy those were the nights. I remember getting a car one night with tomatoes. They were screaming that they would catch us and kick our butts. We knew those woods and trails better than the back of our hands.

Thanks for the memories

Marty

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