The Streak.

Elmer Phud was having a streak of bad luck. In January, Elmer broke his nose.

Elmer Phud broke his nose jumping a snowmobile over a crossroads. The ditch on the other side was blown half-full of snow and formed a sharp drop facing the direction he was coming from. The sled cleared the road but dropped onto the edge of the snow bank causing the front of the sled to pivot sharply up. Elmer pivoted sharply down. The handlebar came up to meet his nose at a very fast rate of speed. The sled was at full power so the tracks dug into the snow causing it to shoot up and out of the snowbank. This carried him, his broken helmet, goggles, glasses and nose about 20 ft without touching the snow. It came down and went up twice more before he bailed off. The sled was unhurt. It stopped and grinned at Elmer. Later Big Daddy Phunk set his nose using his hands to straighten it and a piece of duct-tape to keep it in place. All of this was done without a good brewski or common sense. Elmer's nose is almost straight.

The year before, Big Daddy and Elmer had been trail riding, with motorcycles, when Elmer became a few inches shorter. They were in a back woods running on some old logging trails. These trails had small trees down across it and other obstacles. Going into the area they had to jump some of these obstacles with the motorcycles. Everything was fine going in. Coming out was different.

Elmer came up to the last fallen tree, which he had jumped once. The motorcycle misbehaved and struck the tree off center of the frame. The Bike came down, causing the last half of the frame to increase in velocity. This action catapulted Elmer straight up into the air. Surprise! He came straight down on his helmet and balanced there for a few seconds, toppled over. His shoulders stopped the helmet from going any further. HE soon discovered his shoulders were at his waist! Elmer still has the urge to unzip his fly to take a drink of water. Elmer found it hard to get his family to understand why he left the house 6ft 2inches tall and came back 5ft 8 inches. He was not recognized. He finally got in the house by showing a picture ID.

Riding any kind of trail machine can be and is dangerous. Six months ago, Big Daddy Phunk, Wee Willie and Elmer Phud were riding snowmobiles along a deep ditch. Snow was not very deep allowing them to travel at a very good clip. Weaving in and out, up and over and through the snow banks. Elmer was, at that time riding by half sitting and kneeling on the seat to keep himself balanced with one foot on the running board. He was zipping along having fun when he hit a patch of bare dirt. The sled slowed down very quickly, catapulting him forward at the speed the machine had been going. This forced Elmer into a run so fast (He later calculated the speed using scientific methods as 90 mph) his body overshot his legs by several yards. He straight-lined directly into the side of the steep ditch, which broke his fall and ribs (with a loud POP). Because there was not much snow on the side of the ditch, Wee Willie and Big Daddy did not have to follow the cries of pain to find him. The machine stopped unhurt.

They sat around the sleds drinking a few brewski's waiting for Elmer's pain to subside. Elmer used some elastic wrap, wrapped his rib cage tight and took two aspirin. He wore the elastic until the ribs healed. That’s all a doctor would do.

The other day, being a bit older, not wiser, Elmer tried out Grandson’s scooter. He was at the Lake Place talking to Shirley Jo when he said, “If you go get the movie camera, I’ll try to ride Grandson’s scooter.” Not believing him, she did not move. They continued to drink brewski's. Later Elmer mentioned the subject once more. She didn’t believe him.

After their fourth brewski, Elmer picked up the scooter, went a few feet to the road and started down hill. For those of you who may want to try this, don’t. If you must, pick a hill not so steep. Elmer got going and was doing a one legged stand past The Arizona Outlaws and hollered at them. Arizona Bob was heard to say “What was that streak?” Elmer was headed for the docks and lake! By now, he was going faster than he could think! He could not remember where the brake was or even if it had one. He reasoned dirt would slow him down. Elmer went into the dirt just missing a tree and fell head over teakettle. He jumped up dazed and disorientated. His ribs hurt, eyes out of focus and crossed. He slapped himself along side the head trying to get his eyes straight. He was looking straight ahead but could see his right shoulder. The scooter lay there grinning, unhurt.

The first comments Elmer heard after everyone stopped laughing long enough to take a breath was “Hey Elmer, did you get into the demon 151 rum again?”

“No, but does anyone have a bottle of aspirin?” Said Elmer.

My Flash Fiction Stories.

I have been asked “where or what is your inspiration for your stories”. I can honestly say I dream them up.

Inspiration come's to me at the oddest times. Sometimes I see something and it triggers an idea for a story. Other times, I actually dream them in my sleep. Not the whole story, but the idea. I dream a lot when I sleep. I remember few. But sometimes the dream is so real I do not forget it for a couple of days. More than anything, I take from life experiences, twist it, give it some abstract and a story is born. Sometimes I just write a non-sense sentence or a few words just to see what develops. It's surprising how often the story just flows and seems to write it's self. I write as if I was talking. Then I do a lot of editing. I spend a lot more time editing the story than I do writing it from scratch. Many writers get it right the first time. I am not one of those.

Flounder Del-Fishcake has thought about it and he's going into the new car test driving business.

I wrote the above sentence and after several tries, the following (330+ words) story (flash fiction) evolved. It is pure nonsense of course: Sarcasm, if you will.

Most of the automobile manufacturers are offering rebates to entice the public to buy a new vehicle. The average appears to be about $2500 for each vehicle. This is a way for the dealers to pay a customer to buy a new vehicle. Several from the lakeside neighborhood have done just that during the last year or so. They go to a dealer, pick out the one they like, and the dealer gives them some money to buy it. In many proceedings all you need to do is to test-drive a new vehicle and they will pay $50! Buying not required.

Flounder came up with a plan, and He believes it's foolproof. Flounder spent a long two minutes investigating his idea. He would quit his day job and visit dealers as a full time vocation. His plan is to target the brands, models and dealers known to give money for rebates and test-drives. He reasoned if he could take a test drive at least four times a day he would receive $100 a day, 5 days a week, or $25000 a year. If he buy's two vehicles a month he will receive $5000 a month or $60000 a year. $60000 plus $25000 comes to a grand total of $85000 a year just working a few hours a week! What would he do with the cars or trucks he buy's? After further thought he reasoned he could open a car lot and sell the vehicles and make more money. The figures do not lie. If he can average a profit of another $2000 a vehicle and sell just two a month that comes to $4000. An additional $48000 a year!

Now lets add this all up.

$85000 for buying cars and trucks.
$48000 for selling same vehicles.

Equals a profit of $133,000 a year working just a few hours a day with plenty of time for more important things such as fishing. Flounder is convinced this is an exciting opportunity.

But the most important thing I learned about writing is: write. Yes it is that simple. The more you write the more experience you gain. The subject is almost meaningless. But start by writing about a subject you may know something about or have some experience with. Once you have written a story, re-write and do a lot of editing. To have a story come out the way you expect the first time would be a minor miracle.

When you learn, You earn.

Sal the Scout

Sal the Salamander was a very lazy fellow. So lazy he traveled at a very slow walk. A crawl really. He often stopped and looked around very slowly. He had enemies. Humans would use him as bait, add him to a hook to catch fish if they knew he was here. Predators wanted him for a meal. And not as a guest. He did not want to attract attention to himself. He lead a quiet, solitary life.

Sal lived very near a swamp. He called it his “hood”. Sal was a very modern salamander. Specifically, he was a spotted salamander from the Caudata tribe. Unbeknown to most humans, Sal was very strong and very fast. When he had to run. Which was seldom. Sal did not like to run. Sal did like to lay in the sunshine on a sunny day near water and catch flying insects. They were his favorite meal. Crawling ants and other bugs were a delicate treat.

Sal thought of himself as a very handsome salamander. He had the classic short, rounded nose, stubby, wide body and a long articular tail. He had four legs. His front legs had four toes and his back legs had five toes. And he had spots. Never did he want to forget he had yellow spots. A very handsome fellow indeed.

He put those thoughts aside. He was on a scouting mission for the tribe. He was the best scout the tribe had available. Sham, the senior scout, was missing. Sal was sent to scout out a new trail from the home-world, across the human trail, to the water. If the humans had succeeded in capturing Sham, the tribe would need a new way to water. They would not be able to use the current one for fear of capture. The human trail was used by fishermen looking for a salamander to add to the bait bucket. Extreme caution was the operative word.

Sal was convinced Sham made a mistake and was captured by the humans. But he did not express that thought to the tribe. Sal thought there was no need to panic the others. Sham was known to go out on his own without telling the Chief where he was going nor when he would be back. Sham was an independent bachelor and had a girl friend or two he visited. The girl friends were from a neighboring tribe on the further shore of the water source. Sham may show up in a day or two, non the worst for wear. Providing the neighboring Chief did not kill him. 

Sal was now entering strange territory. He had never been this way before in his short life. He moved very, very slowly. His heart and lungs pounding with his heightened nerves. Moved his head side to side. On the lookout for danger. Advanced, stopped, looked, listened and advanced again. He spotted a clearing just ahead. He moved very slowly to the edge of the clearing, determined it was a trail made by humans but not used for a long time. He spied a Garden snake zooming toward him. Sal knew a family of garden snakes that lived a day's travel away to the south. This one was familiar but Sal did not know his name. The snake spied Sal, stopped, looked listened. Edged closer while warning Sal he was friendly but would take no sssass. Sal knew this was all bluff. The snake was not a warrior species. They exchanged pleasantries. Determined each was from a tribe they were friendly with. From the snake, Sal learned humans had not passed the way for eons in snake and salamander time. Not so long ago in human time. From Sal, the snake learned Sham was missing. The snake agreed to spread the word about the missing scout, Sham. After the snake left, Sal decided this would make a great new way to water. Sal stepped out onto the trail and headed toward where he was sure the water was. Suddenly there was a strange rumbling that seemed to come from the earth itself. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Sal looked around as best as he could while frozen in place, exposed.

Epilog.

The tribe never heard from Sham or Sal again. No one knew what happened to either one. They no longer existed in the memory of the tribe. Another scout was sent out and became a hero for finding a new trail to water. He was awarded with two new wives. The salamander tribe flourished for several more generations before finally moving to a water source a great distance from the home-world. Human fishermen kept using the path for a long time.

Are You Insane?

For the hobbyist, fishing is a serious business. Being insane helps. Catch and release? Heck, here in reality, it's more likely to be hook'em and cook'em. Remember the old adage “Give a person a fish and they will have a meal for a day. Teach them to fish and they will always have a meal.” Or something like that.

If you are a middle class working stiff, just getting by, paying the bills & feeding the family and the in-laws, you need a little extra. I say take up fishing. I bet, Gar, the caveman was happy he was able to get his hands on a fish. The taste was nothing to write home about until fire was invented many centuries later. Seasoning, several centuries after that. Gar never released a fish back into the water his entire life (thirty years, top). Gar lived in the time of reality. Gar was the first redneck to wade into cold water, reach down and tickled a fish so it would not move. He then grappled it onto the shore where Rage, his mate, sliced and diced it onto a large leaf, to be consumed as an addition to the family meal. Fish was good, the leaf not so much. Gar was just a middle class working stiff feeding his family. Gar and his family were the only well fed cavemen for miles around. Gar kept his ability to catch fish, and the spot where he caught them, a secrete until he died. Then his offspring, not knowing it was a secrete, blabbed to everyone. After centuries went by, the fish critters realized being tickled into not moving was not a healthy thing. So they refused to be tickled any more. This lead to the invention of the fish spear.

Just why Gar decided to tickle a fish remains a mystery forever lost in time. Most everyone believes he was bored with tracking rabbits through the bramble and stopped for a break. Having just the beginnings of a sense of humor he thought it may be funny if he could make a fish laugh. The fish did not laugh. It just didn't move. Gar, angry, swiped at it causing the fish to be flung onto shore. His mate grappled it and...well you know the rest. Just saying.

The first fishing spear was a far cry from the slick, modern, metal ones used today. In fact, many neanderthal had other names for it. Stick heads the list. The idea of using a stick to ..well..stick fish was invented by Gar's offspring, Raze. Raze, an educated caveman, could not stand in the cold water due to arthritis in his lower limbs. Or so he told everyone. There is irrefutable evidence he was just lazy. The fish spear or stick came about after Raze broke off a sturdy tree limb, having bumped his head on it. Angry, he picked it up and flung it into the river. After a moment or two, the limb floated to the top. Low and behold! It had pierced a fish, killing it. Raze waited until it floated within reach, picked it up and prepared a meal. He was not so lazy as to miss a meal. Still hungry, he picked up the stick, flung it into the water. It floated to the top without a fish. This went on for several more times until he learned to throw the stick a certain way and at the fish. Thus, spear fishing was born. Many generations later, Raze II, having just graduated from cave school, got tired of standing in water or on shore. He sat on a nearby log. The log floated away from shore taking Raze II with it. This was a lot more comfortable. More fish in slightly deeper water. Raze II used this method from that day onward. We can thank a cave school graduate for inventing the float boat.

After the spear and the float boat arrived on the scene, modern fishing equipment was not far behind. The average middle class worker followed shortly after. The sport fishing was a close third. Modern man has turned this idea into a elephantine business. All items even remotely related to fishing is a must-have for the modern sportsman. Fishing rods & reels, boats, lures and even camping trailers and motor-homes are a must-have. Most of the items used in the pursuit of the elusive fish are only used about four times a year. The rest of the time it is stored in odd places such as a basement, backyard or the odd corner in a storage building. The use of all the equipment is not a full time requirement. The modern family does not fish just to get a good, or bad, meal. The modern family gets food from a big, box like affair, known as a store. Modern man has invented “groceries”. Hook'em and cook'em is a bonus in the form of an extra meal in the month.

Fishing is a serious business for those who are TOTALY INSANE!