The River, Two No We're

February 15, 2010

This little short story is one of a few I’ll enter in this blog, probably later rather than sooner depending on any number of whims in the MMick’s. This was writing in a class exercise; a ten minute one at that. It was also in the initial stage, a handwritten one and won I did knot; arrows were as crossed as eye’s closed.

Anyone who wreck in eye’s is the friend’s ship of this post it buoy no’s full well mmy handwriting by any stretch of the imagination is know less undecipherable than any four legged animal with pen or pencil in hoof or paw. They in fact would be better with any writing tool in each appendage and still a peer superior.

Just to let you know that when retyping this thing, yours truly had to not only exchange several pair of glasses in the most difficult process of search and diss try but a borrowed mmy crisp scope was used to distinguish periods to comma’s.

Bye the way, and also understand this, that this is not what I really like to write or even come pose any think, this way. The following is all made up stuff that is knot the norm of yours truly, meaning in fictional form. Stories from way back when or even are for that to now be stowing many thinks in this stuff is so what.

Needless to say, besides other forthcoming end treaties, I’ve got the great watcher of words ‘n wiz dome, Ms. Nancy Seligman to thank for this addition to bloggo whirled. The said Ms. Published expressed her whish of another lesson of plea’s continue with your wonder full class worked; home work dear stew dense.

On the other ham’d you may note this; Ms. Paid Author/Booker end print sis has stressed a long with any numb burr of dear wrist classed mates, mmined you all ovem wimmen if that makes scents, that in fact this crap is harder to read then if a pig in a poke had a pen and a stroke before writing such drivel ‘n dopey stuff.

“Dopey stuff?” asked I hurtedly wild being in crud duel us. Moving away from mmy sighed of the table of babble, “Aye” whisp purred all they sir ripped tsk usly. “Sheesh!” said mmoi, and then felt dead in their ayes. Oh well, better daze a wait aye guest. Pleas oh pleas Ms. Seligman, will you help mme? Plea’s was mmy knee’d down beg in position too stand up wordsmiths of everyone in class.

So then, and even now eye doo ask cure, ‘fore give nest dearly folks at large. Aye, adjust, cain’t help mmy self. ‘Sides a missed pelt word hear’s; end there? Sorry ;o)

The River, Two No We’re

“I KNOW Branson, but from what I can remember when we both picked out this thing at Cabellas, we decided it would be great for us because it appeared to have two fronts, or bows, or whatever they call that part of the boat,” said Timothy.

“It’s a Canoe, and yes Tim I realise that,” said Branson, “but if you also recall, you and I made an agreement and yes at Cabellas as well, that we’d both take turns steering the thing, and it seems to me that you’re doing more steering than oaring, or whatever THAT term is for, you know, putting that weird shaped wood thing in the water… as we try to move forward in this God forsaken river to no where.”

“That WOOD thing is called an O-A-R, an OAR dear Branny… so where ARE we by the way?” asked Tim.

“Damned if I know!” replied Branson.

As they rowed further and further down the river while switching their oars from side to side, the silence of the banks was interrupted by the sound of a distant screeching Osprey that suddenly appeared and swooped down while entering the water with a diminutive splash beside them.

It dove so fast and entered the water so smoothly that both Timothy and Branson turned to the sound and to see when it would come up and what it would be carrying. All of a sudden like an emerging submarine with full ballast allowing it to rise to the surface too fast the Osprey scooped up its lunch in a millisecond and reappeared with the violent movement of the considerable cargo of slippery silver quivering ferociously in its beak.

“That reminds me Branny, far as I can tell we’re about three days and 2 hours to food,” said Tim while rubbing his bulging, over the belt hanging and very pregnant looking stomach as it growled and churned with hunger pangs.

“…tell ya what Timmy, if you keep thinking about food instead of helping me oar this thing then we’ll never find our way back to civilization. All I can figger out is that we’re headed downstream, which is a good thing I suppose, if we’re gonna end this two day excursion which has now taken us three days plus,” said Branson with concern in his voice.

“You know Branny, I keep thinking, or feeling really, that ever since we turned into the left fork in the river, back there about a day or so ago, that we may be going the wrong way. Yes, I know we’re headed down river, downstream, but if you know anything about geography, or topography for that matter, rivers do have a tendency to break off every now and then, to form or do that capillary thing,” said Tim

“You mean… TRIButary thing, interrupted Branson… “TRIButaries is what you mean… NOT capillaries fercrysaches, where did you get your high school diploma from boyo, at, Sears?” asked Branson.

“Oh, ha, ha, ha, VERRRRRRy funny budzo... you think you’re so smart then maybe you can find our way out of this paper bag of a muddy river. I think we’re lost and waaaaaaaaay back there is where it happened,” said Tim.

“LOST!? What do you mean lost? How lost can we be if the only thing we have to do is to follow the river and the current? … And that’s what we HAVE been doing… the river or current always heads downstream… down, get it? … meaning water always finds its level, which is down, right?”… and that’s where we’re headed,” said Branson.

“Yeah down, yes, I know, yes, I know. But if you recall what I said a few minutes earlier, I think we may have taken a wrong turn, the wrong fork in the road so to speak… and that can mean that we’re in fact yes, headed DOWN stream as you so smartly put it, but then again, we may be headed some other way then where we originally intended to land up and that may be the sea!!” said Timothy. “TRIButaries do that too, don’t they?” asked Tim with indignation in his voice.

Branson just rolled his eyes then looked at Timothy with a questioning and disbelieving gaze. “Pray tell Mr. Robinson Caruso, exactly WHAT fork are you talking about that you think we wrong turned at? If you’ve been paying attention then you KNOW that we must have passed four or five forks in the river by now, and each one, at least to me, seemed like the one before it. As a matter of fact, they ALLLLLL looked the same to me. LOOK! Here comes another one straight ahead. Now what do you suggest? Do we take the left one or the right one?” asked Branson.

“Geeeeze O’man, I’m tellin’ ya Branny, this river doesn’t seem to want to quit trying to fool us. Yes, I admit that this is the first time we’ve ever been on a river cruise together before this jaunt, but doing it in a new canoe is not the fastest way to get to the end of our journey or most importantly to find our way out of what I think is a lost situation.

How the heck are we gonna tell our wives we’re OK when they realise that we’re not going to return when we said we would?” asked Timothy.

“What do you mean, ‘Tell our wives we’re OK?” asked Branson.

They both looked at each other with knowing and squinting eyes as if to say, you know that we’re both experiencing the same thought. Branson’s eyes opened wider than his mouth, Timothy raised his voice while his face got redder than a ripe tomato at harvest time and both exclaimed in unison,

“… because YOU dropped the bag with our cell phone’s in it!”