Oct 7 2009

My first float trip

When I was seven and my brother was four we went with my Dad and his friend Roy on a float trip. I don’t remember the river, but I do remember a lot of things about the trip.

One thing was at one point in the river, over to the side, there was this circle where the water was literally blue. My Dad said it went a hundred feet down. I have since found in a book of Missouri Folklore that the spring, called Blue Spring (not to be confused with Blue Springs, Missouri), was created when an Indian maiden jumped into the water and drowned herself.

Some time later someone said, “Hey! Look at that! There’s a skeleton on that branch!” I looked up, anxious to see a human skeleton dangling from a rope in the tree–maybe a pirate or a cowboy that was hanged. I was disappointed to see that it turned out to be a huge frog skeleton in the water. It was intact, despite the lack of any flesh at all, and it appeared to be biting on a submerged branch.

The last event of the trip was when we were in the home stretch of the float, a wide slow-moving section of water, that Dad decided to be funny. He was an excellent swimmer, unafraid of any body of water, no matter how snake-infested. I was never a good swimmer.

Dad starting rocking the boat, acting like he was going to tip it over. My brother and I held on, trying not to be thrown overboard. I was terrified; Dad was highly amused.

Once he had finished having fun trying to drown us, he realized that he had inadvertently knocked his steel-toed boots overboard and they had sunk to the bottom of the river. It was good for him that he was such a good swimmer, as he had to dive down and retrieve them.

And then I was highly amused.

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Sep 15 2009

Onomatopoeias and ulterior motives

Someone pointed out to me that I hadn’t disclosed the entire story in my previous post.

The truth is, my friend’s real name isn’t Logan; we just call him that because he looks like Wolverine. To that end, he is the recipient of lots of Weapon X-related teasing. Like the day I looked at his hand and asked him, “Does it hurt?” He of course blew his line (“Every time.”).

So when I asked him his favorite onomatopoeia, it wasn’t an interrogative question: it was a setup. No matter what he answered, my reply was pre-planned:

“I would have thought it was snikt!”

He didn’t really find it that humorous. But I guess I wouldn’t either if I had an adamantium-encased skeleton.

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