Friday, December 16, 2016
As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
I was startled today in looking up and seeing page 271 in reading Pat McManus Volume Expendus on Outdoor Wisdom. More stunned really as I wondered how I got to page 271 in I do not remember reading anything.
Perhaps it was the latent ammonia fumes from the Sword Fang Tiger or Cat which wetted down all the pages and the people who put the urine fumed book to the thrift store for poor people to read, thinking we poor people will buy and read anything for 80 cents, thought it had just been dropped in a toilet, but it is their loss and........sorry I seem to be losing my train of thought lately as a symptom of reading Mr. McManus' work or liesure.......something about page 271...oh yes now I have it.
See I was on page 271 and that is like page 300 and it means I am almost half way through Opus McManus. It is far reaching wisdom and too much for me, because I can not remember a thing of it.
At page 271, I feel like that introduction to that American soap opera........."Like the sand through an hour glass, so are the days of our lives". The thing is though I do not feel bored like one does watching a clock, in the endless red hand moving around methodically while you hope Homeland Security believes your barking on the other side of the door really is a dog they must beware of.........
No this Pat McManus is more like I don't remember anything. It is like the time Uncle Stan, that would be pronounced stahh HAN, because it was in Africa and some girl was looking to hunt impala as impala livers and eggs in the morning is just the thing one eats, or that is what she had read.
So Uncle Stan offered up a vintage trouble or was it triple barrel, 600 Nitro Express. It was not some Purdy or Holland and Holland, as who had needs for such things as that. It looked more like a World War II German artillery piece that Stan had found in the junk pile and hacked a mopane stock for it.
See the Germans have this thing for guns with lots of barrels poking out of the same stock. They call them Drillings and are quite expensive. Americans never caught up to Germany as they just had doubles, but those Germans had it all down in things like two 12 gauge and 1 8 x 57 Mauser. Stan was not into any of that wimp stuff, as his was sort of interchangeable in like two 4 gauges and this 600 Nitro Express or something like that.
So Stan loaded her up, and this popular girl was having the porter drag it along, as this was an enterprising African in wanting to get ahead from digging crappers and cleaning hides.
There I was stalking along and this ........ok my memory is a bit fuzz on this part, but I do recall something in a herd standing in front of me, and I vaguely remember Sodom going up in fire and brimstone, and a doctor later visiting camp to treat the African as he was a valuable latrine digger, as I got told to tough it up as who did I think I was, a girl?
It was something though about all three barrels discharged, as this was a feature of Stan's weapons. I mean why waste time pulling the triggers on things, when one pull will fire all the barrels.
I was told they found a nice 3 foot furrow where my butt ploughed a trench backwards, and I also got a cut on my forehead, but the muzzle flash seared it shut so I did not bleed to death.
The poor Africa was knocked clean out, but the natives who saw the flash and rumble thought that a new Kilimanjaro was erupting, and came over to investigate discovered my great hunting ability.
We ate really good as they said I skinned and deboned 7 impala, and knocked 12 others clean into the next eternal plain. The mullah there did the hallal as it was all kosher and the Muslims were pleased as millet beer with kubwa kidogo msichana wawindaji, or great little girl hunter.
I don't remember much of else, as either that lion from MGM was roaring in a movie we watched in camp or it was a wild one which had his face stuck in my face roaring at night. I just do not remember bad breath and saliva on me in watching movies, so maybe that memory was real
That is what it feels like reading the wisdom of Pat McManus at page 271. I didn't know how I got there, but it was ok, as I was not remembering anything anyway. I was just relieved I survived, and was not bored, as I could not feel anything, and was just sort of numb from it all.
Maybe the pain will come later, but with over 300 pages to go, I suspect I will just have a refresher a few times like Uncle Stan's gun, because like the sands through and hour glass just sort of mesmerize a primate, I get the same effect in the words through Pat McManus' writings.........or ploughing furrows with my ass in Africa, hooked up to a vintage German Drilling that gets about 19 impalas to the foot.