Or maybe not …
“You fellas have GOT to come out to the camp with me and see what
I’ve got!” Dud said. “You won’t believe it!”
“Got a nice buck did you, Dud?” said Doc.
“You just have to see for yourself,” he said.
So after another round of refills, the guys went out and got in two
cars and headed off to camp. And when they got there, they saw all
of Dud’s camping gear stacked neatly, ready to go home, and his
camouflage spring-steel-armed ground blind still standing.
Picture an outhouse-sized tent.
“Where’s the deer?” asked Herb.
“Well,” Dud said, “I didn’t get one.”
“So what do you want us to see?”
“The ground blind,” he said. “I can’t figure out how to fold it up
and get it back in the bag.”
[to top of second
column] |
So Dud got one end and bent the
steel inserts, and Doc got on the other end, while Herb and Steve
each took a side. After half an hour of engineering arguments and
cussing, the offending tent was back in its bag.
When Doc got his breath back, he looked at the others and grinned.
“You fellas know I’ve delivered hundreds of babies, but I gotta tell
ya, this is the first time I’ve ever had to put one back.”
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to you by Arizona’s Book of the Year, “Stories from
History’s Dust Bin,” by Wayne Winterton. Available everywhere
online.
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