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Re: [at-l] Re: Voodoo Chile as a Trail Name :x

OK -- here is the _real_ story --

I was hiking the Mt Rogers National Recreation Area last October, after
receiving advice from Felix (via the list) that this would be a great 40
mile section. After only a few miles (which I ran in record time), I
began having sharp pains in my neck, stomach and eyes.  They had a very
rapid onset, and would suddenly disappear with no remnant of the
excruciating pain that was just wreaking havoc on my body. After about 4
or 5 episodes, I began to associate this event with the sound of what
seemed like 40 or 50 monkeys laughing.  I looked around and saw nothing,
but on closer inspection I found an assorted collection of empty bean
cans.  I followed the trail of cans into the woods, only to find an old
blind man wearing a running suit and holding a crude, homemade doll.  It
looked as though he had severe puncture wounds in his hands and arms.
Little monkeys were everywhere.  Then, a dark cloud descended over the
mountain.
"What the heck are you doing out here?" I asked.
"Aahhh....Mr. Bruce, I'm so glad you made it.  And you are still
walking, I see." he replied.  I thought it was kind of weird that a
blind man used the phrase "I see".
"Look", I said (like he could see anything anyway), "I'm not Mr.
Bruce....I'm Bruce Waldrop.  And what do you mean by saying ' I'm still
walking'?"
At that point he acted a little restless; nervous, if you will.  He
shuffled his things around and tried to hide his "doll".
"What is that in your hand?" I asked.
"Nothing", he replied. "Just my.............."
"Looks like a voodoo doll", I said, interrupting him.
"Well, yeah, it is. So what.  Got it in New Orleans a couple of years
ago".  He pronounced Orleans 'Or-leeens'.
"So who comes out here in the middle of nowhere with a voodoo doll?  And
what's the deal with the needles?", I asked, pointing to the red monkey
holding the pin cushion.
At that point the old man broke down.  "Well, dangit.  I've been waiting
for that darned Wingfoot to come thru here.  Somebody's gotta slow him
down!  The man's hiked this bleeping trail seven, eight times.  Heck, I
lost count!"
I regained composure, since I had never heard such vulgarity on the
trail in all my life, except in trail registers.
"Well, listen here -- I'm not the guy you're looking for.  And quit
treating like your little Voodoo Chile!", I excalimed.
The old blind man sat there for a minute and contemplated wht I had just
said.  "Ya know, Bruce, Voodoo Chile sounds pretty dadgum cool."
"Yeah, I guess it does".
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, the old man whipped out a beat up '63
Strat and a Pig-Nose amplifier and began to play some mean riffs. That's
when I left.

Eva Steele wrote:

> >hope this wasn't too disappointing.
>
> >Voodoo Chile
>
> As a matter of fact, it was. Can't you come up with something a
> little more, ah, dark? : )



--
Bruce Waldrop, RPh
Division of Pharmaceutical Sciences
College of Pharmacy
Rose Street
Lexington, Kentucky 40536-0082
e-mail:      waldrop@pop.uky.edu
office phone (606) 257-2556
fax  (606) 257-1460


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