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[at-l] Fondue-4-U

		Oh , Mama, Can This Really Be The End
		To Be Stuck Inside A Lean-to
		With The Para-Guys Again.
						Ed Garvey with Bobby Dylan
						Gooch Gap Shelter
									April '69

	All the little parapackers were still fast asleep, all in their little
blue one-half kazoos, 5 deep and 10 across.  The smell of liniment  hung in
the air as the mud dried on the 50 pair of running shoes tied to the
rafters.  Yes it was the second day of Spring Trail track as coach Milo
Garcia prepared to mold the little guys into 50 little Ishmaels in search
of that great white blaze.

	Suddenly Little Jerome in his deep little paravoice  boomed out, "Welcome
To Bell Atlantic !"  It had been almost a year since Jerome had been found
locked inside the phone booth outside the Erwin Readymart.  "Welcome To
Bell Atlantic!"  Poor Jerome spent 3 days inside the phone booth and now
spontaneously blurts out the greeting like a half size James Earl Jones.

	Milo Garcia was already up and sitting next to the 50 qt titanium fondue
pot (fondly known as the MGP) and staring intensely at this month's
FONDUE-4-U and once again trying to figure FONDUE-4-50.  It was a cool
spring morning but the sun was just coming through the trees as Milo stood
back to light the modified MSR.  Milo thought:  Life was good, the trail
was good, fondue is good, and yes, damm it, I AM GOOD !  

	And with that thought Milo pressed the button on his little trail boombox
and threw the match in the general direction of the beast that was the
modified MSR stove.  

	As the first notes of "Flight of the Valkyries" entered the lean-to, the
MSR flared up and roared a thunderous roll.  It was yet another morning on
the trail as all 50 parapackers shot up in their little mummy bags.   All
you could hear was Wagner, the MSR and "Welcome To Bell Atlantic" as one by
one the little guys would hop off the front of the lean-to and head to the
fondue circle still in their little mummy bags with hoods drawn tight.

	They would all flex in the middle like 50 little gumby guys as Milo kept
dipping the ladle as the line circled around the big pot.  

	The music stopped but the MSR kept hissing as Milo began to speak.  Poor
Milo was looking alot like Robert Blake in some forsaken Lost Appalachian
Highway as he raised his arms high.  "Little Men!  Today we will cross into
North Carolina."  " oooh, aaaah" whispered the parapackers.
	"Little Men!  We will meet a special friend, a friend to you and a friend
to me in Franklin, North Carolina."  "War-win, War- win, War-win !" chanted
50 little voices  "No, it is not Warren Doyle!" 
	"Well who is it Mi-wo" said Little Juan.
	" Is it Feel-wix ?" exclaimed Little Reggie.
	" Is it Winona"  whispered Enzo.
		"No Felix, No Winona."
		" You will all be surprised when we reach Franklin!" said Milo Garcia 

"Hey, has anybody seen Little Bruno?" said a nervous looking Hector.
"Look there he is!" somebody shouted as all the little parapackers and
Milo-man looked skyward.
	There was little Bruno stark parabutt naked but for his little polypro
bomber hat standing in the big maple tree next to the lean-to. " Not
again!" shouted Milo.  But it was too late - Bruno flung himself headfirst
from the maple tree towards the big MGP and with a loud "splat !!" became
one with the fondue .

	They all ran to the big pot to see Little Bruno looking over the lip with
a big grin on his face.  "Sowwy Mi- wo !"


The Bamaman 
	 
David S. Severance
The Ossipee Mt. News
<http://www.conknet.com/~d_severance>

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