I decided to fish the Snake River because it never freezes and I wouldn’t need an ice auger. It’s only a few minutes from my house. We've had an early spring with temperatures in the 70s, perfect for fishing.
I passed Fred’s house and then Ron’s house, the fellows who house, feed, and exercise two of my five horses. They of course pay the vet bills. That is our agreement. I want to own horses but I don’t have room to take care of them.
Fred was out in the corral and I waved to him as I drove by. Ron is always indoors making saddles, so I didn’t see him as I passed his fields.
As far as riding a horse, Ron’s wife said it would be far too dangerous for me. That’s because after I had coronary by-pass surgery in the early 1990s a baseball size growth bloomed at the base of my sternum.
When I got an aortic valve from a friendly pig almost two years ago, Doctor John Dody cut the growth out and chucked it where ever such growths are chucked. I had forgotten to tell him that I wanted him to save it so my grandkids could use it when they are playing rounders.
For you who are too young to know, rounders is sort of like softball. Well, it is softball without teams. If you are out in the field and you catch a fly ball, you are immediately up to bat. If there is an out at first, the batter goes out to right field and gradually works himself up through the positions to catcher. After that, he is a batter again. Great fun! So if you can’t get up two teams, play rounders.
Anyway, with the growth gone from my chest, there is a weakness in that spot. In fact, it is herniated. Ron’s wife is afraid that I might bang myself on the saddle horn and there would be nothing to stop it from clobbering me. Anyway, in the face of truthfulness, I told her that might happen and she agreed.
The doctor said he could repair that weakness by wiring a screen into my chest and pulling the surrounding tissue together. He said it would hurt like the dickens.
I asked what his other patience were doing and he said, Nothing. They just don’t lift.
So I accepted that.
“Honey, will you bring in the groceries after you shovel the snow?” You know that I can’t lift.
Well, I lied again. When it snows too deep, my friend comes over and we shovel the snow together. We have these big orange sled-like things that just push the snow away. It is called the Snowmaster Snowscoop® and you can buy one at a hardware store or on the Internet. The old lady next store likes to borrow mine but we go over there and do the job for her. The last time, I limped for a week. I didn’t hurt my herniated chest area too much but I did twist my leg.
By the way, my Snowmaster Snowscoop® can be rented during the summer.
Those are some of the things I thought about as drove down to the snake river.
When I got to the river, I found that my wife had cleaned the van and that I had no fishing pole. However, my binoculars were there as was my bird guide. I decided to do a little bird study.
I was watching a flock of Goldeneye ducks when I heard a swish and saw a net fly out over them. I knew who it was. It was Phontos, the last of the Chicans.
You probably know Phontos as Big Foot.
I walked up the river bank and found Phontos stuffing ducks into his mouth feathers and all. I said, “Phontos! You could at least cook those ducks before you eat them. Besides, why didn’t you just catch a bunch of coots. They are more abundant and you won’t eliminate another species like you did the Przewalski's horse and the Pygmy hippopotamus.
Big Foot: I smelled you coming, Taylor Jones the Hack Writer.
Hack Writer: You smelled me? You’re up here a bit early, aren’t you, Phontos? I thought I’d see you later in the month. I guess it’s our fine weather for this time of the year. Up in the 70s on some days.
Big Foot: You could say, hello.
Hack Writer: I don’t see how you can eat raw ducks feathers and all.
Big Foot: I'm hungry! And you should talk. You humanoids eat broccoli and turnips and even parsnips if you can get them. And I didn’t cause the extinction of the Przewalski's horse and the Pygmy hippopotamus. I thought the horse was big enough to carry me and I didn’t mean to step on the last Pygmy hippo. Anyway, it is a mute point. They were both males, not pregnant females, so it didn’t matter.
Hack Writer: And you ate them?
Big Foot: Waste not, want not!
Hack Writer: Wait here! I want to drive home and get my camera and a bag of plaster. I want to put your picture in our newsletter.
Big Foot: If the Snake River Chapter of The Society to Save the Last Chican wants to preserve me, don’t put my picture in your newsletter.
Hack Writer: What about the plaster?
Big Foot: O. K. but don’t be in such a rush. Besides, you should get a bucket of Dental Stone® to make the cast. Plaster doesn’t hold up. I’ll get my chess board.
We played three games. The score was: Hack Writer: 0, Big Foot: 3
He used the Queen’s Gambit. He said he learned how to use it more effectively from Bobby Fischer when he was in Iceland about a year ago. Here are their scores: Phontos: 12335, Fischer: 12334.
Photos said it was a dead heat.
P. S. The editors of ezinearticles .com don’t allow pics but his tracks are along the Snake River. Get out there before it rains and don’t forget your Dental Stone®.
copyright®2007 John Taylor Jones, Ph. D. (Taylor Jones the Hack Writer)
John T. Jones, Ph. D. (firstname.lastname@example.org, a retired VP of R&D for Lenox China, is author of detective & western novels, nonfiction (business, scientific, engineering, humor), poetry, etc. Former editor of Ceramic Industry Magazine. He is Executive Representative of IWS sellers of Tyler Hicks wealth-success books and kits. He also sells TopFlight flagpoles. He calls himself “Taylor Jones, the hack writer. "
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