SCOOTER SEASON

Once upon a time I use to work in Fort Collins for a spice company (Custom Blending Inc.). It was a very small company but it was a great company and I am sure they are still doing fine back there in Colorado still today.

I use to get to work extremely early in the morning and would often take my lunch break and get a bite to eat around noon. Well actually I hardly ever ate lunch. It was probably more like driving around the area smoking cigarettes.

One day not long after I got the job at Custom Blending I was driving back in an industrial area and came across a taxidermy studio (Chapman's Taxidermy).

I had just recently graduated from the Northern Virginia School of Taxidermy and was really thinking I was the best taxidermist in the world, but after walking through the front door and noticing all of the blue ribbons and awards of excellence discovered right then that I wasn't barely worth a sh** as a taxidermist.

I introduced myself and asked if he (Bob Chapman) could use any help. He told me to stop by tomorrow and we would talk about it. I agreed to that and bolted back out the door and almost forgot about my other job Custom Blending.

After talking to the wife and working out a plan we figured that I could work a few hours a day there, if he was interested.

The next day came and lunch time couldn't come soon enough. Finally 12 o'clock! I busted out the door, stuck the pedal to the medal, smoked a stog and rushed up to the front door of Bob's studio.

He had a customer and I felt as if he didn't remember who I was, but once the customer left he said hi, glad you could come back would you be interested in starting today? I of course was excited, surprised and very happy to say yes.

2 o'clock came and I busted out the door, stuck the pedal to the medal, smoked a stog and rushed up to the front door of Bob's studio. I walked in and he had 3 Rainbow Trout laying on the table. He had a fillet knives, a brown paper bag and a grease pencil.

I watched him trace out a pattern of the Rainbow and was just amazed because where I was from and how I learned how to do taxidermy was completely different then what Bob had done in just the first few minutes of my new job. I was wondering if I had gotten myself in to deep and was way over my head.

We worked on skinning and cleaning the first two fish together and quite naturally his was done much quicker and had a few less holes in it than mine did. After several years of working on skinning fish I learned not to cut as many wholes in the specimens due to the fact there was a doc in pay if I did cut holes in them. I wasn't the fastest skinner and probably still ain't, but I do a good job and I am very thorough.

So as the years went by and our friendship grew I also started going over to the shop more often. I would go over for my fifteen minute break at 10, lunch time and after I got done working at 2. It all became very routine.

That is until one day when I walked in the front door and couldn't find Bob anywhere. This was somewhat normal as Bob would leave the shop open for me because he knew I was gonna stop over and smoke anyways and he was probably just on a beer run just down the street.

I looked around and was looking at a fish that Bob had just completed when... WHACK! Right in the ass I feel this very sharp and stinging sensassion and I was like. "What the Hell was that!". Bob was laughing his ass off when I discovered him hiding up in the rafters.

Bob hopped down on a barrel and had a blowdart gun in his hand. I immediatly turned and looke to see if there was a dart sticking out my ass. There wasn't and he showed me that he had a handful of apoxy ball BB's he made in his pocket for ammo.

Still I had not a clue as to what the Hell was going on so I said "What the Hell is going on!" as I sat there rubbing my ass. He very cheerfully said and chuckled out "It's Scooter Season". Not thinking this was very funny I walked out of the shop rubbing my ass.

Lunch time came and I busted out the door, put the pedal to the medal and smoked a stog and as I walk in the back door of Bob's studio notice that he is not in his shop once again and when I turn to see if his motorcycle is still here feel a WHACK right on the right side of my love handle.

"What the Hell was that!?" I scream in pain. As Bob steps out from behind the dupster he very cheerfully voices out "It's Scooter season". I'm like are you friggin' kidding me? I am thinking that the paint fumes have finally caught up to this old man, and as I turn around and retreat to my Isuzu Amigo because I decide to take a short lunch today hear a WHIZ right by my head. I jump in the truck and head back over to the Spice company.

I get off of work and I slowly drive over to the shop and smoke two stogs and am just burning up inside because my ass and back are sore from this morning. I pull up to the shop and see Bob sitting on his bench and I notice that he is actually working rather that Fing off. As I approach him all I hear is WHAP! My eyes immediatly tear up and both he and Brett Kirk burst out into laughter.

I'm not thinking this is too funny as I am looking at Brett holding a blowdart gun hooked up to an air compressor. The only thing I can think of is asking him why, and what the hell was going on. But what came out was "How many PSI are you using". Come to find out it was only 75.

Anyhow, as I am sitting on the bench with my ass, back and now right pec in pain turn to the two A-holes and say "OK when does this Scooter season, start and when does it end?" Bob says "Today quite naturally, it's April Fools day". I say "OK, when does it end?" Brett says, "Turkey season". "Oh well that's not so bad" as I'm holding my blood blistered boob. Bob just chuckles, "Not fall Turkey season, next Turkey season,... Spring." I'm like "OK, if we are gonna do this we need to give Scooter a break. I say if I touch something here in the shop I am 'HOME FREE''. Bob and Brett both aggreed to those terms and elected the tool box in the shop 'HOME FREE' and if I touched it I was safe for the visit's intirety.

I finish skinning my two fish and head home, go to bed, wake up go to work, burst out the door at 10 am, floor the gas, smoke a stog, rush to the front door of the studio the next day and walk in and WHACK!!! Right in the same as cheek as the day before and without a chuckle he say very calmly as he reloads his blow dart gun "Scooter season". I immediatly sprint slide and tag the tool box and just like a kid scream "Home free! Home free!"

Three times a day, every day for five years I went zippin, sneaking, sliding and sprinting to that old beat up tool box and have had many of hunters buy a Scooter license (conciquently, the price of a pack of cigarettes) over the years in hopes of bagging a trophy Scooter. Some were successful, some were not. But for the few who were lucky enough to try can bet that they thought the opportunity was well worth the price.

On the very last day that I lived in Colorado I walked into the shop and of course did not see Bob at all. Not 15 minute break nor during my lunch hour. I of course was overly cautious and planned out my bolt for the last blitz for the 'HOME FREE TOL BOX'. I crashed the door did a summerslat roll and dove on my belly and slid across the floor. I hear WHIZZES past my ears as I am getting smacked in the ass by pellets and as i stand up see a bungee cord and rope obsticle course that I would have to navigate through to get to my 'HOME FREE' safety net. I make it through all of the sh** finally and turn the corner for the home stretch and notice that the tool box is missing and there sits a cardboard tomb stone that reads hear lies Scooter, bla, bla, bla...

I didn't have time to read the note as everyone that had baught a Scooter license over the years was there and was ready to bag them a Scooter. Well I finally made it to my make shift 'HOME FREE' station (My Isuzu, Amigo) and that was the end of Scooter season.

Since I moved to Nebraska they have not opened a Scooter season. Though, it was literally a pain in my ass at times, I do sincerly miss being stalked by Bob Chapman.

CATCH OF THE DAY...

Back on the Air Force Base, Ellsworth Air Force Base near Rapid City, SD. the thing for a young teen age boy was to go down to the trout ponds... On a daily basis, of course. There were if I can remember correctly two Trout ponds and a Catfish and Largemouth Bass pond. The two trout ponds were linked together by a small creek and when there was a lot of rain they often flooded.

Since we always went, and I am talking every chance we got, me and Tony Lay we would often run out of live bait, and after raiding mom and dads cupboards of all of the sweet corn we had to start using artificial baits.

Speaking of riding bikes. There was this one time that Tony and I were riding home after a good evening of fishing and I accidently stuck my fishing pole into his front tires' spokes. Yeah, it wasn't pretty. Just like in a cartoon or like you would imagine, that poor kid went flying over top of his handle bars and I was out a new fishing rod.

So back to artificial baits. Though we tried to catch worms as often as we could or try to catch as many crawdads as possible. We always managed to run out. That is when we were introduced to artificial baits by one of our friend's dad, Frank. Frank mentioned that his favorite spoon was the Red Daredevil. Upon learning this information and discovering that this was how he caught that 5 pound Rainbow Trout on his wall at home it didn't take long for Tony and I to purchase ours.

Several weeks went by and we not only didn't catch much, we didn't catch sh**. The long hours we spent casting in the sun and staying just wasn't panning out. Frank said that once you catch something on an artificial bait you'll be hooked.

I never believed him, I actually thought he was full of sh** and he just didn't want us catching our limit. Though, I thought he was full of sh**, I still wanted to prove to him and Tony that I was the best fisherman that there ever was. Tony and I tried and tried, and tried and tried with no luck. I started going even more often and staying out even later and I actually started to let my grades slip a little.

Tony and I were fishing down at the creek in between the two ponds when all of a sudden my brother and dad drove by and yelled for me to get my arse home, and Tony wasn't supposed to be out either because he was supposed to be working on his schoolwork while his mom told him.

Just like you would imagine of course, I had to make one last cast and of course I just had to get snagged on the weeds behind me at the same time. I yanked that lure as hard as I could and once again and it was really hooked this time. You know that pissed feeling you get when you are snagged, because you know your gonna loose your favorite lure, but your so pissed that it doesn't matter cause your just pissed and you yank it until your line snaps anyways?

Well that was how pissed I was during that moment when I gave that pole one last tug as hard as I could and heard a snap and a yell at the same time... Yep, you guessed it. I snagged my buddy Tony. You know that sick feeling you get when you do something really bad, but your relieved because you didn't loose your favorite lure? That's the feeling I got.

But at least I knew I didn't loose my favorite lure after all. It was just dangling from Tony Lay's right ear. A few weeks later or so, my mom said I could maybe go fishing again and Mrs. Lay had something that she wanted to give me. It was my Red Daredevil Lure!.. Minus the treble hook! I never got that hook back and I never went fishing with Tony again either, I mean how the hell did they expect me to catch a trout without a hook?

RE-CALL/RETARDED

Just a few minutes ago we were heading on down the road and on our way over to a doctor's appointment for one of my rug rats. We are also in the process of getting a garage sale set up. As we're drivin' my wife says "Oh! We gotta stop there on the way back home). She was talking about the Payless Shoe store we had just went whipping bye, because of course we are always two steps behind and always have a long ways to go.
So Anyways, now were done with our kids appointment, and my wife says "Don't forget we gotta go to Payless". So now I'm curious as to why and she states that her sister, said we can't sell those shoes on the garage sale because they have been re-called. My wife continues to say that she doesn't want to go in there because she didn't want to looke stupid... "So, you want me to?" I ask. She nods her head and burst out laughing. "Hun you're retarded! You're not gonna go in there because you don't want to look stupid, but you want me to, and that's OK?"

So I'm in the store now and I tell the lady there that I figure my wife and sister-in-law are trying to play a practical joke on me but they say these shoes are re-called. I also tell her we were gonna sell them on the garage sale for $.50, but I figured I better check, cuz I didn't want little boys or girls gettin' into a car wreck with these shoes or something.

As I tell her that, I notice a re-call sign behind the store clerk's head stating that these and two other pairs of these style shoes have been re-called.

So as the clerk hands me my $16.00 cash, I slip it into my pocket, thank her for saving some kids life and walk out the door to the van. My wife asks, "Did ya get em' returned?". I just shrugged my shoulders and said , "Do I look retarded to you?'.

HOLY CRAP!

First of all let me set this up. I was in a car accident about two years ago and was injured with a head injury. A MTBI to be exact. Which is short for mild traumatic brain injury. Mild is basically the opposite of what it feels like. I constantly have headaches, and this is almost two years later. My balance is off, my mood is depressed, I have short term memory loss, I can comprehend things I read, there is a bunch of goofy sh** goin' on up there, and a list of other sh** I can't think of. At least now you have a little bit of a handle on this now.

The other night I stayed up late, way past when my wifer went to bed. I have a hard time falling asleep sometimes and have to wind down and basically wear myself out before I go to bed. The wifer on the other hand, works hard at work and at home so she gets her beauty rest and she does it really hard. That is when she hits the hay, it's like a brick.

So anyways, I finally get tired after watching Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel and I go get ready for bed. I brush my teeth and what not, then I grab my medication and head off to bed.

I actually fell asleep pretty fast and slept fairly well for once. That is, only waking up every other hour instead of every hour. So the night is long and I am finally asleep and sleeping hard myself when all of a sudden I hear a humming in my ear. I spring out of bed like a Gazelle and grab my pillow and start pushing it into the bed as hard as I can. My wifer, jumps up with a look on her face that I'll never forget. It was like she was saying what the hell are you doing you freak without saying a word.

So hear I am standing upright on our bed squishing the hell out of my pillow with my wife looking right at me. Now what do I do? I say "Hon, there was a wasp in my ear"! She says "What"? I exclaim, "A freaking Wasp"! She of course thinks I am out of my mind as thinks I'm a spaz for the position I am standing in and begins to turn over as she say"Whatever".

Right when she starts to turn over I grab a flip flop at the end of the bed and start swinging it into the air like a mad man. She jumps out of bed and says "What the hell are you doing"? I am waving a flip flop in the air with one hand as I am holding a squishing a pillow on my bed and then she sees the Wasp. "Hon, there's a Wasp"! I look at her as to say "No sh**"! I finally swat the flying Wasp and kill it.

I still have one arm and one leg on the bed so now I turn my attention to the pillow Wasp. I slowly but surely lift up the pillow. As I do, I hear a "ZZZZZZZZZZ"! I immediately push down on the pillow and squish and push and pound and stomp on the pillow with all my might. Of course even after seeing the Wasp that I killed my wife is thinking I look like a real dumb ass right now. So I peel back the pillow and "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"! I immediately push down on the pillow and squish and push and pound and stomp on the pillow with all my might again. Surely it's dead now. So one last time i peel back the pillow. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"! Holy crap! Did you know that a 290 pound man can't kill a freaking wasp on a bed with a pillow no matter how hard he tries?

I proceed to grab my wifers flip flop and I rip the pillow off that Wasp as quick as I can and he flies up and I am smacking and swinging and finally I knock him to the bed and I am hitting this thing so fast and so hard it felt like I turned into a jack hammer. So the flat part of the shoe wasn't working at all on the bed either, but it was keeping him down on the the bed so I finally turned the shoe and started stabbing him. It looked like the showere scene from Physco. I stabbed and stabbed and finally cut him into two pieces.

My wifer has got to have the weirdest facial expressions in the world. She can give someone a complex just by looking at them. She looks at me, shakes her head, grabs her pillow and covers turns and says "I ain't coming back down here until you fix this"... You know what? I've been sleeping like a baby for about a week now. I probably aught to get to fixin' that hole with the hornets nest in it sooner or later. Naw, I'll just tell her I haven't caught all my ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ's yet!

Scooter