[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]

[at-l] The Fontana Incident



(Take a deep breath..)

EARLY THAT MORNING:

	"You puny parapackers permeate your polypro !" thought poor Warren as he
tiptoed between the 50 sleeping bags to the front of the shelter.

	Milo was already up and busy stirring the massive fondue pot in
anticipation of the breakfast rush.  "Get up all you lazy parapackers !
It's Fondue Time ! "  Milo knew they had to get an early start if they were
to make it to Fontana Village before the Coin- Op Laundramat closed.

	Milo had already started in - feverishly poking and prodding with his
titanium telescoping fondue stick when the last of the parapackers made his
way to the fondue circle.  "Mmmm, mmmm, this is excellent fondue Milo,"
exclaimed Warren.  The tiny parapackers had by now resorted to using their
leki poles to capture the last of the big chunks of delicate white meat
hiding somewhere in the midst of all that cheese.  

	The parapackers had but one set of clothes, just one patagonia union suit
- you know the red ones with the seven little buttons down the front.  Yes,
this is all the little porters had save for their little gore-tex ponchos. 

	Warren had convinced Milo that the polypro, the ponchos and the
parapackers all needed washing and wash they would as they set forth down
the road to Fontana. 

LATER THAT MORNING:

	Warren led the 50 little parapackers in single file -  all in their little
red unionsuits down the road to the village.  Milo Garcia brought up the
rear dressed in his formal wear,  horned rimmed glasses and albino squirrel
poncho (which all the parapackers knew fondly as "Rocky.")  Yes I'm afraid
poor Milo looked like Elvis Costello in drag  and sounded alot like Bryan
Ferry as he sang "Fondue For Love" as the parapackers tapped along as if
the asphalt was some symphonic surface.  One could only imagine the
parapackers thoughts flowing from Mickey Rourke offering Kim Basinger a
piece of fondue to what fun they would have a short time at the Fontana
Coin-Op as Milo sang, "I'll be waiting for you, in all the usual places,
with my fondue pot....Fool for love...."

AT THE FONTANA COIN-OP:

	Round and Round went the tiny parapackers riding the speed queen spin
cycle that was the Fontan Village Coin Op Laundramat.  All their little
noses and hands pressed firmly up against the inside of the glass smiling
from ear to ear.  Round and Round they went, 5 to a machine all 10 in a row
- all 50 that is except Little Enzo.

	Little Enzo the compulsive highlighter was busy by the windowsill kneeling
on the yellow plastic bench.  First the yellow marker, then the blue one as
he frantically went from Watchtower to Watchtower frome Time to Newsweek.
No one knew if it was the vapors given off by the markers or the sound they
sometimes made that fueled Enzo's passion.

	Warren stood lookout as Milo kept pumping quarters into the machines as
the parapackers went round and round and round.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

	Warren felt sick after Little Pedro told him he wouldn't be seeing any
more albino squirrels for a while since Milo had cooked up the last one
this morning.

EARLY THAT EVENING:

	Ethel Rosenthal, the 74 year old grandmother of 6 and the immediate past
president of the Fontana Bridge and Gun Club had just left the monthly
meeting at the cafeteria with a group of her friends when the first of the
49 tiny nude parapackers  left the Coin Op.  It was not for some great
noble statement that found all the parapackers (except Enzo) this way, but
necessity.   A necessity fashioned by Milo forgetting to turn the dryer
setting to low as they huddled in the corner waiting for their polypro and
ponchos to dry and dry they did into 5 large nylon balls of melted red
unionsuits.

	Warren had gone ahead to the Fontana Hilton to forewarn any of the
occupants that 49 little 37 inch high nude men would be arriving shortly.
"Hi folks, my name is Warren Doyle and I am here now to tell you that 49
little nude men will be arriving shortly." announced Warren to the puzzled
group of girl scouts and their cautious leaders.

	Little Pedro was the first to pass Ethel as he led the entourage of nude
parapackers past her,  some bouncing the large red patagonia poly balls.

	Meanwhile Milo was carrying little Enzo who was still gripping his bright
yellow highlighter and staring straight ahead.

	Milo knew that Warren , yes Warren would have a solution to their latest
predicament.


The Bamaman

(Yes, I know my posts are getting longer - it's scary.)
     

	 

	
* From the Appalachian Trail Mailing List | For info http://www.hack.net/lists *

==============================================================================