-2/16/22 10 Bones To One Monster

Let's see if I can pull this off. So, I'm lying in bed (awake) at 5AM and the sprockets in my mind are spinning. What can I blog about? These thoughts start dive bombing me from the left and the right. All topics I could write about. Which to choose, which to choose? And then these strange little sentences appear out of nowhere. What the hell? They don't mean anything and they are definitely not connected in any way. So I play with them a little. They make no sense at all, as a whole. Completely random and unrelated. And voila! I have it, Igor! I will attempt to create a monster from body parts. I self-bequeathed myself to use them all in a short story. The task was crazy but I accepted. These are the 10 completely random thoughts that came to mind.

1. I'm in love with my chiropractor.

2. No, not the antique.

3. Now that's gonna leave a mark.

4. If you were smart you'd choose the red one.

5. Is she scratching an itch or is she turned on?

6. Hold my beer.

7. Praise Jesus.

8. I wanna run now.

9. Is it loaded?

10. They freaking bit me!

I look back at my list and laugh to myself. Yeah, this is gonna be a train wreck but, oh well. I'm up for the task. "Choo, Choo, Mudda Foya Choo."

Let's go ...

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When I opened my eyes, I could tell right away that it was going to be one awesome day. The sun was already shining bright and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The month was early June so I was quite sure that the temp would be warm enough to hit the lake. And I was right. A glass of chugged O.J. and a scarfed protein bar while hurrying down the old wooden dock landed me at the port side of my hunter green kayak, tied up and waiting on me. What a beautiful sight. I glanced over at the custom name I had painted on the top of the stern, My Chiropractor. It's a running joke I had with the ex. Whenever I felt like I needed a little adjustment from the B.S. of life I would opt for a little trip to the office, the lake. What can I say? I'm an outdoorsy kinda guy. Perhaps this is the reason I now call her my ex. A question of which one got more of my time, I suppose. Can't help it. I'm in love with my chiropractor. I quickly released her, climbed on board, and off I went. Hello mental adjustment.

Three hours later and me and my girl were still a lake item. Just me and her, skimming across the shimmering waters toward the local bar and grill on the north side of the lake. It's a popular little drinking hole where you can pull your boat right up to its edge, tie off, and throw back a couple while gnoshing on one of Fat Mac's Wyoming famous Bass Burgers. It's a local favorite with a reputation good enough to bring Guy Fieri to town for a taste and Triple D shoot. As I was coasting up to the dock, I was unaware of the yuppy vessel approaching behind me at an unacceptable rate of speed. We get them here from time to time. Rich kids in their daddy's boats who drink too much and boat too fast. Usually you can hear them coming by the sound of their engines redlining, barely muffled under the bass beat screaming from their overhead speakers, bellowing out a hip hip song. My thoughts were on at least 3 Yuenglings down the hatch and the flirtatious company of the new waitress. I gently bumped the tired wooden dock and was half way out when the wake hit me. One foot still on My Chiropractor and the other on the boardwalk, tie rope in hand, and that's when the Richy Rich tsunami hit. The first wave slammed my kayak up against the wooden dock post but the second one sent it flying. It nearly rope burned my hand as it went. The momentum propelled it onto the dock where it skipped like a rock across the top of a crate of nautical gear before knocking over a giant retro gas pump from the 20's. It bounced once before toppling over into the water below and disappeared.

"No, not the antique!" Fat Mac screamed when he saw the empty base where the pump used to stand. He looked at me and then at the three rich guys in their mid twenties who were laughing hysterically aboard the S.S. Bouttogettheirasskicked. Fat Mac's anger was directed towards them, not me, so I quickly checked my kayak for damage, there was none, and moved it over to a more secure location. Just in case the Mac Daddy fury came down on Biffy, Skip, and Ken. I didn't want any yuppy blood on my baby. My input was not needed for this calamity, Fat Mac had it under control, so I ventured inside to find my 3 Yuenglings and little Miss Short Shorts. To my good fortune, I indeed found all 4.

I spent the next couple of hours babysitting my drinks, in between other customers, when the waitress could waste some time on me. We talked anytime she had the chance, which wasn't near as often as I had hoped. I was quite surprised to see that Fat Mac had actually let the 3 stooges in for a bite to eat. I guess the 'adjustment' he had given them accompanied with the more than generous check for damages in his hand slowed his pulse some. I overheard him tell their waitress to add $2 extra to ever item they ordered. I suppose he figured they'd rather pay the highly recommended gratuity on their bill than receive another Mac attack. He had the size to persuade their compliance and used it to get every dollar out of them he could. After 3 beers, I had enough liquid courage to ask little Miss Short Shorts if she's like to hang out sometime. She'll be helping her mom with some stuff after her shift, tonight, but tomorrow's is all mine, she said. Well, alright. Insert a big ol' country boy grin on this face. I bid her a twenty-four hour farewell and left to rejoin my first love. There was a tiny scratch on her but she was still float worthy. Tough ol' broad.

I figured I would pick up some new duds for my evening with L. M. S. S. because well, I suppose that's the kind of gentleman I am. On second thought, I'll just choose my newest pair out of the drawer. She obviously likes me for who I am and I could be spending the extra cash on some new spinner bait instead. Like I said, I'm and outdoorsy kinda guy. No, bite the bullet, dumb ass, I eventually heard myself say. You buy anymore tackle and you'll have to buy another box to

hold it. So, off I went to thread up.

The Tailored Teton was a common place for guys like me to shop at. It was more my style than the likes of any 3 piece suit store. I spent a little time sliding the hangered clothes around the metal carousel, debating on every one before bunching it up next to the other rejected. Nearby, was a couple in their late teens, arguing over what looked more 'rugged.' The lad was trying on some type of Khaki jeans and had just stepped out of the changing room to show his partner who was just not feeling it.

"That makes you look like someone from New York whose trying to fit in," she mumbled.

"No it doesn't. It makes me look like I was born and raised here and am about to go fly fishing."

She glanced down at his zipper and laughed.

"Oh, ok there, Field and Stream, how about taking car of that fly, down there, before you hit the river, why don't you?

In a heated moment of anger and embarrassment, he took hold of his zipper and gave it a mighty yank. I could almost feel his pain, from 3 racks over, when I saw the widened look in his eyes. I cringed. Now that's gonna leave a mark, I thought. It's safe to assume that he didn't buy a thing here. I quickly excused myself to the other side of the room and never looked back. It was the only way to not make myself an ass by laughing where they could see me. I continued my search for items of a lesser manhood threatening type. A few slides of the rack later and I was able to locate a shirt that fit the bill. Just what I wanted. A friendly compromise between 'I'm paddling solo on the lake' and 'we be going out for dinner' type of shirt. So I grabbed it.

"If you were smart you'd choose the red one." I heard the guy beside me say.

"What?"

"The discount tag," he said.

He leaned in and pointed to the small green dot stuck to the bottom of it.

"I was in here yesterday and noticed that someone has discounted half of these at 10% off and the others at 15%. The red dots are 15. Take one of them up to the counter and you get a cheaper shirt. I did."

I realized what he was talking about smiled at the thought of saving some cash for new tackle.

"Thanks, man."

"No, problem, he said before walking away.

Another fifteen minutes and I found a pair of pants to match and was out the door. With a little extra red dot cha ching to boot.

Tomorrow evening came and I found myself sitting at the end of a pier with L. M. S. S. Our feet were dangling below and the moon was big and bright above. She looked different out of her uniform, better. We talked about her life back home. About how Wyoming was so much more her style than Ohio ever was. The conversation seemed to flow effortlessly. I noticed her scratch her forearm a couple of time but didn't think much about it. The conversation switched from her to me and then to us. Just the direction I was was hoping for. She slid in a little closer to me so our shoulders would touch and smiled at me. I noticed her readjust her position and saw her place her hand down by the side of her leg a few times, never losing that mesmerizing smile. Is she scratching an itch or is she turned on? I wondered. By the end of the night I didn't have to anymore. There was no itch.

The next morning came and the smile was still on my face. The fact that she saved herself in my contacts was a great reason to. I decided to head down to the bait store to burn that extra cash on a bag of rubber crawdads for my next excursion out. Ding Ding sounded the overhead bell as I swung the door open. The smell of all things fishing instantly filled my nostrils with the smell of home.

"Hu Hu Hu," I heard from the next aisle over. It was a hearty chuckle that I recognized well. I rounded the corner and sure enough, Ray Bob McIntyre. He is a big ol' boy who hasn't quite understood the necessity of buying bigger shirts when your belly gets bigger. He wore a tight white one with golden letters on it that read Hold my beer and a picture of a spilling over mug of such. Always seems like his gut was trying to escape out the bottom no matter which shirt he had on. But he was quite the character.

"You know, you really don't need to block the aisle like some out of town rich boy. Us locals gotta shop, too."

He turned around and when he saw me he stretched out both arms and wrapped me up in a mighty bear hug. I thought my rib cage was going to fold in on itself but this wasn't the first time so I was certain I would survive it. He spun me around, with both of my feet off of the floor, and sat me down on the other side of where he stood.

"Well, in that case ... let me help you out there, town boy. This end of the aisle might be more to your liking. It's where pansies who don't catch fish get their gear. Shop away."

He released his hold after setting me down. Praise Jesus. I could breath now. I felt the air refilling my lungs and wondered why I was never smart enough to see this coming and avoid. Like I said, this wasn't the first time.

"So," he said with a shit eating grin plastered across his face. "Rumor has it that you spent the evening with Montana."

"You know how rumors are," I joked. "Every time it's passed along, it just keeps getting juicier as it goes."

"Hu Hu Hu. Kinda funny you using the word 'juicy' to deny it there, buddy."

I thought about his logic for a moment and couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, but if it fits."

"You old, Casanova," he said before lightly socking me in the shoulder. "We'll not talk about me being jealous here."

I was happy to oblige that request because Ray Bob had a volume knob that was stuck on high. He had no real comprehension of how loud he could actually be and I was hopeful that my business was not broadcast out loud for all of the local anglers to gossip about.

"So, what's new with you, man?"

I was expecting some sort of small talk reply with either a girl, a truck, or a boat as the topic, but got neither of them. Instead, he actually floored me with a different tone of voice while speaking. It's a rare tone that only shows itself every several years or so.

"Well, do you remember when I had that notion to do something in government a few years back?"

"Yeah, I remember that. Short lived notion, if I recall."

"Yeah, well, that was the result of having a wife with more gripe than support and I knew I'd never hear the end of it so I kinda put that on hold for a while until I could-"

"Get rid of the wife," I said with a smile.

"You know it. She was such a downer, man. I think she felt like if I ever dressed up nice and spent a lot of time around other women then she would lose me, or something."

"Word of advice there, big guy ... if you're gonna dress up nice ... choose a different store."

He laughed it off without feelings.

"I know. No need to spiffy up to pull a bass out of the lake. But there's an opening for Deputy Mayor here in Teton county. I wasn't quite ready to run while I was married ... for reasons previously mentioned ... but ... I wanna run now. I know this place better than anybody, right?"

I couldn't disagree with him on that. Despite the image of the man who stood before me right now in this smelly little bait shop, I could absolutely see him in the position. A good ol' boy who steps into a suits's world and shows them how to get things done. The county would be lucky with him at the helm.

"Ray Bob, you find you a shirt that fits ... lose that hat, which I think you had back in high school, run a comb through that hair twice, and I promise you ... you have my vote, buddy."

He looked at me as if my one vote was already the tie breaker. The man did have an infectious smile to him.

"Thanks, buddy. Oh, and by the way ... you can find them pansy jigs ... over there," he said as he pointed near the end of the aisle."

Always a kidder. I opted for my 'manly' bag or crawdads and left the store.

"What'll you have, hun?"

The diner was close by so I decided to stop in for an early lunch. It was easy to find a booth at this time of day. A few locals and a family of four that couldn't hide the fact that they weren't from around here. It was obvious to native Wyoming eye. I sure hope the dad hadn't caught himself in any zippers prior to sitting down for a bite.

"A sweet tea, for starters and ... how ... about ... one of you backed potatoes? Is it loaded?"

"If you wanted it to be, it can be. Cheese, sour cream, bacon bits, green onions, mushrooms, broccoli, black olives, chicken, spicy corn."

It only took two seconds of thought for me to decide.

"Yep, that's sounds about right . Everything you said. Locked and loaded."

"One sweet tea and a monster mash, coming up."

Watching her walk away reminded me of Vera from the 80's sitcom, Alice. It made me smile. I sipped away at my tea and devoured the monster when it arrived. If you're ever in Teton county, stop by and see Miss Vera. She sure does sling an impressive mash up. I paid my tab, tipped the help, and walked out onto the street. The sun was almost overhead, my belly was full, I was hopeful in seeing my new lady friend later in the day ... damn ... life was good.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of metal hitting metal. A passing Excursion swerved to miss someone in the street and t-boned the side of a parked car. I stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. The doors of the Excursion opened and out stepped Biffy, Skip, and Ken. They looked extremely intoxicated. The person in the street turned to look at me. What the hell? It was Montana. I ran to her side but stopped short.

"Are you OK?" I asked her.

She didn't answer, simply stared at me. Something was wrong. The commotion caused a crowd of town people to spill out of the nearby shops and houses and form on the street around us. There was diner Vera off to my left. Ray Bob, the red dot discount shirt guy, Fat Mac, the angry zipper teens, as well as about a hundred other people. All of them ... staring at me. Just like in the movies, the world started to spin as I spun around and looked at them all. Something was definitely wrong here. Their faces were pale and they all looked anxious about something. What was an outdoorsy kinda guy to do when he was faced with a situation like this? Well, all I can say is that I advise you not to come to Main Street in Teton county, Wyoming any time soon. Why?

Because THEY FREAKING BIT ME!

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Ha Ha, I couldn't help myself, people. I could have snuck that last one in with more wit and finesse but decided to go all Walking Dead finale style for shits and giggles. Not a blockbuster style novel? Sue me, it's a train wreck from the 1st blow of the whistle. I enjoyed the challenge and hope you found some humor in it. Laughter is good medicine. Try it and try it often.

You can find me on Facebook under my government name and click on my author pages (If we're friends you know that), and I'm online at my website angelobain.com as well as yahoo mail at angelobain@yahoo.com. Come find me there. Spend some time with me, grab a little therapy afterwards if needed, and come back for some more. It'll be fun. Check out my recently published book, Caesar's Move, now available on Amazon. My website can take you there in 1 simple click.

Laugh, love, and remember to always feed your brain. You owe it to yourself.

Angelo