It was a hectic day at the local animal rescue center when the quiet bearded old
man came through the door. No one paid much attention to him until Molly noticed
him patiently waiting at the counter. Molly asked "What can I do for you?". He
replied "I'd like to volunteer to help with your rescue work". Molly was surprised
and pleased and asked "Every done much with cats, we need someone to help rescue
over a hundred cats from an old ladies place?". The old man assured her he knew
how to handle cats. Molly told him he would have to go through a couple of hours
of orientation on their procedures and then they would send him out to the lady
Cranston's place in the country. The old man nodded and Molly showed him into a back room
and gave him the manuals to read. Several hours later Molly handed him the keys
to the truck and gave him a map with the Cranston's place marked on it.

It wasn't easy to find the Cranston's place but once you got close you knew it
was the right place with all the cats in residence. Old lady Cranston has passed
away a week ago and the cats had not been fed since then. The cats were glad to
see the old man pull up. They gathered around him expecting to be fed. In the
back of the big truck he pulled out cages and put a bit of food in each and as
many cats as would fit before he put each cage back in the truck and got out another
cage. The Chevy step van held thirty cages which he finally filled. After the
cats were loaded there were a few strays left. The old man went to the truck cab
and got out the cans of spray paint he bought on the way and covered over the
nicely lettered NEW JERSY SPCA sign with white paint to match the rest of the van.
He then swapped out the plates with the ones he had taken from an old truck in
Oregon.

As he pulled out of the Cranston's place he had to swerve a few times to make sure
he ran over the strays. The next day after driving all night and taking back roads
to avoid the inspection stations he finally made it into Florida. He pulled into
a country lane and shoved food into all the cat cages to keep his prisoners alive
for awhile longer. A few more hours of driving and he reached his rural
destination. Pulling into the drive he saw a man filling in a hole in his backyard
and grinning. The man put his rifle on the back porch and approached the truck.

The old man asked "Would you be Digital Dan? I brought you some gator food from
Yankee land. Got any beer?" Dan grinned and asked "You seem familliar for some reason, where do
I know you from?".

OEH's most excellent adventure! Now for DD to fill in his part.

I declare--Dan must be so busy with that load of targets that he hasn't had time to chime in with his usual wit.

Oh dear! Wait just a sec while I catch my breath... Been away for a spell, and had to push the car the last half mile...uphill...against a westerly....Then there's this big ol' van in the drive....

Well "hell's bells" says I, "You must me the Renown Old Elk Hunter from Ory-gon! Either that or one of those gay undercover California raised, Washington trained gator treats I heerd about on Fox News." I looked over my shoulder and saw Li'l Bob and his younger half brother Micro Bob layin' on the far bank. A bunch of Yankee tourists were takin' pictures of them, and laughin' nervously. As usual they were nervous for the wrong reasons. They just didn't know the boys and me very well.

So I say to this fella, "Well, which is it?" as I pulled the Poulan Wild Thing out of it's case. I had my very best Clint Eastwood look on, just waitin' to see what kinda fun we was gonna have. Ya see, the first girl ever broke my heart was stole by a guy from Ory-gon, I was kinda nervous he was tryin' to bring her back. "I don't drink much Beer. Ya like sour mash?"

The old man said to DD "Sour mash is just fine! As for the pussy, the only kind I brought has four legs. Better feed the gators while the gator chow is still fresh. Got a hay hook? I'll start tossing them to Lil Bob. He needs to fatten up a bit. I'll need to catch a flight soon. I heard they have excess crats in Tennesse. Any
chance of getting a ride to the airport after I ditch this truck a ways from here? Oh, is it true that GAY is
a southern term for Great, Another Yankee?"

After looking at OEH's driver license and two credit cards I was satisfied that he was in fact, R----- J. S-------s, AKA Old Elk Hunter. My poker demeanor slipped away and we sat down on the balconey to sip one of the finest libations made in the South(all hail to Gen. Lee!).

I din't care about the truck(needin' some material for an offshore reef), and promised a ride to the airport before the sun dipped over the tree tops(no, I didn't say which day, or who would be drivin' ). It was a calm afternoon, a little warm for a fella from northern latitudes I suppose. I kept the sauce flowin', and we spoke of great ideas, heros and fine cigars. And everytime this one skinny brunette across the creek looked over at us I farted real loud. It kinda riled the crats up in the van, and made her twitch a little. You wouldn't believe how well sound carries over water...

It was after the 4th drink that OEH asked if I'd taught Li'l Bob any tricks. "Well yes indeed, if'n I do it just right he'll rip that skirt offa that skinny brunette with the hearing problem." "N-a-a-a-a-w-w-w!", he replied in stunned disbelief. "Go get me one of those crats wouldja?" sez me, and as he wandered off to the van I slipped into my 30 second Zen trance, visualizing my moves, the wind and tide, phase of the moon and Li'l Bob's biorhythms...not to mention the solunar tables.

---with that I retire for the evening, not to cut it short, but rather to build up my strength for tomorrow's finale'. It has been a long day.--------

Ahem, where was I?

Yes, OEH returned with the crat as I came back to the present plane of being. Often times people do things they HOPE will work out, and sometimes they do. Rednecks often stumble across the cosmic junture and do something way too cool for them to really appreciate in subtle ways, and thus a pending tragedy is born. Invariably the next day while clustered with friends the seemingly right moment occurs and he or she will suddenly blurt out, "Hey, you guy watch this!" Next thing you know all the 'friends' are standing around wondering just what it was that Jimbo was trying to demonstrate, and checking to see which cell phone has enough battery charge left to call 9-1-1 as Jimbo has become one with a phone pole, an oak tree or some other immovable object. My point is that it is not the trick, but rather the timing that is so important. Knowing your limits, and imagining possibilities as it were, and knowing when the comsos will align.

Well, OEH stepped onto the deck at one of those junctures, and appreciating that the next confluence of interspatial planes would not occur for another 2.763289 weeks I had to act. It was all one fluid motion....setting the empty glass down, standing as I grabbed the crat by its ankles and making one false heave to key up Li'l Bob, who upon my que made a viscious lung toward the crowd, his ballistic calculator(Powley) calculating the point of touchdown of his snack. The crowd gasped, cameras clicked furiously and Li'l Bob's jaws popped loudly a scant 15 feet from my intended 'volunteer from the audience'.

I think OEH was more startled by the sudden turn of events than anything, maybe that would explain the snort of sour mash that came out of his nose...anyway, time was awastin'....I did another round house windup with the crat(who was beginning to hiss and stuff), and let fly. My timing was flawless of course.

Now I don't want to fall into a lengthy discourse about the dynamics of airborne CATrobatics, and the inter-relationships of flying form, aerodynamic drag, BC's, SD's, Sg etc., suffice it to say one has to have a general idea of the resultant vectors and such, else the effort will be for naught. Speaking of effort, that devil OEH just "happened" to pick the biggest crat in the wagon for this, and I gotta admit it was a test. Heavin' 15 pounds of pussy across a 50' crick is a challenge, even when you start out 15' in the air. I don't recall sayin' "Hey OEH, watch this!", but as the crat departed on its ballistic arc, I began my own..over the rail as it were. Triple flip with two gainers. Damn the luck!

What I saw on the way down was sorta like snapshots if you know what I mean. First one was OEH's eyes real big and his mouth hangin' open. Then it was the crat goin' past the cypress tree on my shoreline. Then it was Mrs. Dan waitin' below with a Revereware skillet in her hand. Then it was OEH again, upside down(wait, it was probably me that was upside down), then the crat hittin the skinny brunette's long dark skirt like velcro, and Li'l Bob comin' out of the water like a Los Angeles Class sub. Oh yeah, the flashes were poppin' and the shutters clickin' by then.

Next thing was the company logo of that Revere Ware skillet right in front of my eyes, hell, I hardly had time to focus before there was this real loud "poing" sound and I heard my nose crunch. For all of that though, I was pretty pumped up by then...it hardly fazed me fellas! There was a big thump sound(me), and a loud shreik across the crick(the brunette). I sat up just in time to catch the skillet on the top of the head(damn that stings!) and see Li'l Bob begin his 'death roll', crat and skirt firmly clamped in his jaws. There was a loud rippin' sound and...man oh man, that girl was REALLY skinny!

Mrs. Dan smacked me with the skillet one more time, I told her I was startin' to get real tired of that. "Mrs. Dan, I'm gettin' real damn tared of thet!" Then I laid down. I saw that OEH was still upside down and runnin' up the drive towards Jim Bob's smoky old pickup in the drive. Ol' Jim was rollin' his eyes for some reason...and then I heard his tires squealin' up the street. 'member when I said about the alignment of the cosmos? That's what I mean. I didn't have to call Jim Bob...I knowed he was comin' over...just knowed it down in my gut. And since Tick was still on the lam I guess OEH made it to the airport okay. Haven't seen hide nor hair since.

Officer John showed up a little while later and got things all settled down again, gave all the Yankees a citation for feeding and harrassing the gators, told the brunette she need to have a few meals down at the Muddy Waters Cafe to "put a little meat on them bones", and peace returned to Yankeetown. He had dinner with us that night, mostly to keep Mrs. Dan from damaging her fine skillet any further, and then we had a few drinks out on the balconey. He was really amazed by what I'd done, and I started telling him about rifts in the Space-Time-continuum and such, and next thing you know we was chuckin' crats off the balconey, one after another. Li'l Bob had tolt his friends...and I'll tell you boys what. I din't know most of his friends, and I sure as hell wouldna wanted to take a bath in the crick that night. No sirree! Those boys got no manners at all!

Oh yeah, GAY....yep, it means "Great! Another Yankee!"

Dan

POTYHC

www.AllsWellThat.EndsWell

Well I guess I know what do if I ever get an excess of cats up here in the north.

There's a big ol' panal van out on HWY 19/98 fer sale if you need it. No papers, it smells like crat pizz on a warm day.

Dan

POTYHC

www.RealCheap.RunsGreat!

Just wait till the CSI(crat *hit investigators) find that van and start going through it with a fine toothed comb. I would not want to be a Florida public servant just then. And then think of the poor guy from or-e-gon who has to drive the van back to where someone(?) snatched it. Fortunately OEH escaped both the skillet licking and the cops and I'll bet he was headed to the gore state to look for crats. Either that or maybe western Maryland or yes, even West Virginia to cut a deal with PT for more gator bait. I sure wish more of you crat warriors would tell the truth about what happened like OEH and DD did.

DD--be careful how you swing the crat around your head--too much downwind component and you might get a "retreating crat stall" much like the Revere Ware causes a retreating brain stall.

Aye, never considered that one dustoffer...hmmm...wonder if they're there is a causal relationship to be found there? If you do it with two crats will it stall twice as hard?

Dan

POTYHC

www.Im.PonderingTheRamifications

Might just cause a double stall--but more than likely you'll end up with an out of balance condition which will result in the same condition as in a chopper--you'll sling something! Most likely right at Lil Bob.