This all came about when the bull chased a holstein up the ramp to the Foofaw barn's haymow and Clyde, who had been working up his latest batch of mash in his genuine '49 Hudson Terraplane, dropped everything and climbed up the interior ladder to get the animals out before they broke through the floor, which is the ceiling of the room where the still is located.

When he got up there, his weight was just enough to bust the floor joists and down went all three of them into the fresh batch of whiskey in the Hudson, which is a convertible.

The holstein bounced off the back seat, landed on all fours by the milking racks and lit out for the barn door, but Clyde and the bull got tangled up in the gearshift lever and damn near drowned before Clyde thought to put his foot on the clutch, releasing the gear shift tension, allowing both of them to get their heads above liquor.

By that time, they were both half shot, having swallowed gallons of the stuff, and just sat back and began to sing Irish drinking songs and argue about football.

Clyde lit up a cigar and in the rising alcohol fumes blew them out the back barn door, right through a twelve foot high pile of manure, and then on the rise through Simon Festerbester's thirty foot tall solar powered roof wind vane which is a scale model of the Eiffel Tower with giant paddle-shaped frogleg crepes suzettes to catch the breeze. 

They reached maximum altitude as they sailed over the city park and on the way back down went through the second story window of the Sisters of the Perambulating Orient Lodge Hall, where voting for the festival queen was going on at the time.

Since none of the young lady  candidates would go upstairs for the interview after that because the building looked like it was going to fall over, Clyde became the Peg's Bottom Prince of Spring, and the bull became his royal consort by default.

This is going to reduce income at the city park because most years at the Spring Festival the Prince and Queen sell kisses at a booth.  No man in Peg's Bottom will kiss either Clyde or the bull.

One suggestion is to invite the loggers from the Snooseville Saloon, since most of their girlfriends resemble holsteins, anyway. 

Grange Hall Holds Onion Dance Next Saturday Night

In an attempt to recreate the Fifties,  some distance must be generated between the dancing couples,  so all attending will have to have a raw onion in their mouth the whole evening..

Snooseville -- Torgeson Boolean is the only Norwegian with black chest hair which anybody in these parts has ever seen.  Being seven feet tall, it's hard to talk to him about it, too.  And, the fact that he only speaks the Norse tongue about shuts the communication door, as well.

On Wednesday evenings at the Snooseville Saloon, they sell tickets to tourists who want to actually see a black-haired Norwegian. Last week in attendance was a busload of English teachers from Minnesota who crossed the Rockies in winter just for this event.

Torgy had been jogging in the woods before coming to the saloon, and when he took off his sweatshirt there were two squirrels and a spotted owl tangled up in his chest hair.  One of the teachers was a member of the Sierra Club and accused Torgy of endangering the owl.  When he gave her the single digit logger's salute, and said something obviously insulting in Norwegian, the teacher stabbed him with a four foot long stuffed Northern Pike she had brought from home as a gift for her cousin in Portland.

The pike teeth, like the squirrels and the owl, got tangled in that chest hair, and gave him a sort of multiple hypodermic injection type bite in his left pectoral area when the teacher jabbed it in..

As he ran screaming from the saloon, a passing shotgun salesmen saw him running through the parking lot and thought he was a sasquatch and tried to bag him with a double-barreled Remington 12 guage from his display case.

Fortunately for Torgy, he ran behind a 1942 Dodge pickup just as the shotgun went off, then tripped over the cement parking area boundary fence and landed in an ancient native American midden, or garbage dump, that archeologists hadn't known was there.

They opened up the Rumsey Drive In medical clinic at Dufur for him and by dawn had removed both squirrels, the pike and the owl.  He had them leave the Indian arrowheads embedded in his chest so he could ride his Harley and still look like he had a Hell's Angels leather jacket on.

2005

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2003
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2002
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2001
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This page is dedicated to Dave Bascom.