Dinner?

More important things first

What a day! Three score year from now the tale of Cap’in MDog and the journey down the mighty Chunky will still be told wherever men of the sea and the wenches who service them gather for a grog and a hornpipe dance.

The good ship Tater Tot was as ready as duck tape could make her, 5 plastic drums and a shipping pallet deck floating high and proud in the river. My trusty first mate was in place on the bow and I were at the helm when the race began. My plan was in place and only needed execution for success. At the sound of the horn, I fired up my trusty Honda generator and whipped out my Craftsman 3/4 inch ‘lectric drill motor. I had spent most of last night fashioning a proper shaft and propeller for my drill and immediately cut a path to the lead of the flotilla, drill motor clenched under my left arm and tiller in my right with foam and chunks of chopped catfish swirling behind us. I could hear the cheers of admiration from the crowd gathered on the shores as we plowed down the muddy Chunky.

Then unexpected winds began to blow, lightning flashed, rain commenced and my happiness took a turn toward disaster. First mate Bubba was in front marking the depth as we plowed t’ward victory. YES! Disaster! What I understood in the howl of the storm to be “Mark Twain!” was actually “Hurricane!!!!” and we found a low shoal. The Tater Tot had run aground.

The first craft behind us was a bicycle powered 12 man paddle wheeler, powered by Cub Scout Troop 17 and sponsored by the Women’s Missionary Society of the Solid Stone Evangelical Temple. Ever hopeful, I saluted them. “A’vast Lads, could ye pull a sadly marooned rig off the reef?” What I was unaware of was that Rebecca Jasper, the den mother was shepherding the lads down the river and noticed the hefty mug of rum I was chugging to ward off the aches of the sea and began to wail. Within moments a Coast Guard flat bottom boat (Who would have known the Chunky as a navigable waterway fell under Coast Guard control) pulled up and Cap’n Dog (who failed to note a race restriction against hard liquor) was placed in leg irons and hauled away to stand before the High Judge.

Never fear Land Lubbers, Cap’in Dog played three punches of his Get out of Jail Card, and walked away a free man. The wife? MHNBPF, she was waiting outside the High Court House and threw her arms around the Cap’in. Smothering me with hugs and kisses, she only said “My sailor!” And all was well with the world.

Dinner?

Sautéed squash, fried okra, butterbeans and lady peas, fried green tomatoes and jalapeño cornbread.

Aaaaarrrrr Matey!