This being a El Nino year, weather patterns across the nation are altered.  New York Harbor needs icebreakers, Florida beaches get snow and our local communities, usually either drenched in rain for six months or buried in snow and ice, resemble tourist towns on the Italian Riviera.

This has caused the Dufur hocky season to be in danger of cancellation  because the outdoor arena lake, an outflow pond from the Hanford Nuclear Reactor which not only usually freezes each winter, but also glows by itself, saving the cost of electric lights for night games, has remained an obscene, bubbling, miasmic sludge which makes nasty belching sounds every time a bubble breaks.

In an effort to save the season, the Dufur coach, Sandusky Scooterhooter, of the West Fork Scooterhooters, and who sells used appliances for a living, came up with the idea of plugging in every old regrigerator he had in the store, 212 in all, opening the doors and dropping them in the pond.

With the enthusiastic help of the team, he got six miles of extension cords, plugged in all the units and shoved them in.  Coach Scooterhooter is a appliance  repairman, so was aware that when you bring water in contact with electricity, the crap can really hit the fan.  But, with the liberal use of duct tape supplied by the community, which had a surplus because the Arabs haven't attacked yet, the concept at first worked. 

The pond froze in eleven minutes, the team got out to warm up for the game and, as the crowd watched in horror, began to slowly sink into the nuclear sludge like a sun going down in the west.  It was later found that the total draw of all those freezing units was so large that it tripped the main fuse at Bonneville Dam, which workers there said physically shuddered from the strain.

It was then that Coach Scooter, about to fire the game starting pistol, stepped on a thawed rutabaga that had fell out of one of the freezers.  He lost his footing, did a somersault and in mid air, while crying "Let the Games Begin!" blew off his right toe.

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Twisp - What with Saddam Hussein threatening to set fire to 10% of the world's oil wells, Venezuela oil fields shut down by a national strike and Anwar oil being unavailable because thousands of greasy 60's hippies have kidnapped all the Eskimos who were about to ask Congress to go ahead and drill so they can afford to buy something to eat other than reindeer, fuel prices in this part of the world have gone up a bit.

Even at two bucks a gallon, the traffic at Norbert Phlug's Texaco was getting sparse, which was when he hit on the idea of the century.

Contacting the nearby Kickapoop Indian Casino folks, he bought four used slot machines and welded them to his pumps.  The way he hooked them up, you put in a half-dollar and pulled the handle.  Two lemons got you a gallon.  Three oranges topped off a half ton pickup saddle tank and five cumquats would fill an eighteen wheeler with diesel.

Unfortunately, and that is the correct term, Maybelle Sturgeon came in with her brand new Korean Kia kar, which has all the latest electronic circuits, and stuck the nozzle in the tank pipe while the auto was still idling.

The electric fields from the Kia Kar altered the solid state circuits of the slot machine gas pump, which gave her five jackpots and sucked 14, 000 gallons of regular gas into the gas tank, which is made of a new miracle fiber which expands and contracts like a rubber band, and so eliminates the need for a fuel pump.

In no time at all  the Kia Kar looked like the conning tower on a balloon the size of a small aircraft carrier.

Local residents joined with station owner Phlug, demanding that she share her good luck with the community, but she called them all poor losers and using a two by four as a lever, got the ball rolling downhill to her place at the end of Main Street, where it went over her double wide trailer and flattened it into what would be a good sheet of roofing for an aluminum blimp hanger. 

Station owner, Phlug, has one gallon left to sell, and has set the price at $600.
 

2002
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October  | November  |  December
2001
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 August  |  November

This page is dedicated to Dave Bascom.