Nights-time Monkeyshines (Part 3)

External Features (1 - Head 2 - Thorax 3 - Abdomen 4 - Spiracle 5 - Anal clasper 6 - Prolegs 7 - Segment 8 - Thoracic legs 9 - Antenna)

It was summer and it was late afternoon. Paul and I wanted to hike up to a secret waterfall that we knew of and with complete disregard for the fact that darkness was approaching fast, Paul grabbed his "Hunter Dan" hat and we were off. We picked up our friend Sarah Preston and made our way to the trail in Provo Canyon. We had enough forethought to bring along a Coleman lantern but since we spent most of our scouting years making fun of other people instead of learning anything useful, we couldn't figure out how to light the thing. There were some college students at the park at the base of the trail and they tried to help us get the lantern lit and they were incapable too so we felt much better in our ignorance and inability. We decided to make our way up the trail by the failing light.

The hike was enjoyable and we didn't have any difficulty following the trail up to the waterfall. We reached the falls and played around and enjoyed the scenery until it was dark. Then it started to get a little chilly and we decided to make our way back.

It was some time later before we realized we were not on the trail. It turns out the trail up to the waterfall is not as visible on the way back for some reason and we had wandered into the brush. We decided to try to light the lantern once more to see if we could find the trail. That failed so we lit the next best thing which was Paul's "Hunter Dan" camouflage hunting hat. That was good and proper, not to mention helpful. It burned and rained down dripping blobs of petroleum based textile until the flames reached Paul's fingers and he quickly extinguished the hat.

Near the base of the mountain we were on is a railroad track which spans the length of the mountain. We realized that if we continued down the mountain we would eventually find the railroad tracks and we could follow them until we found the park where the car was parked. We crawled through branches and brush as we moved downward. We incurred scratches and branches in eyeballs. It got darker and darker as we continued to not find the railroad tracks.

We were very nearly resigned to living on the side of this mountain for the rest of our days when we finally came upon the railroad tracks. We felt that we had gone quite a ways north in our meanderings so we headed south along the tracks for several hundred yards until we came to an impenetrable bush growing on the tracks. We had worked so long and hard at finding the tracks in the first place that we were absolutely not going to leave them even for a moment to circumnavigate this bush. Since we weren't entirely certain that we were going the right way anyway, we turned around and headed back along the tracks in the opposite direction. After a couple of miles in the northward direction we felt certain that we were definitely not going the right way. So we turned around and walked back a couple of miles plus several hundred yards to the impenetrable bush. It turned out not to be so impenetrable. We pushed easily through the bush and were filled with hope when we saw afar a streetlight that we believed to be in the parking lot of the park where we left the car. We hurried onward and eventually we were safe back in the park with the college students who were enjoying a large bonfire.

It was at this point that Paul realized his keys were missing. These were the keys that we needed to start the car that would take us back home. There was a hole in the pocket of Paul's sweat pant-like pants and the keys were long gone. We began scouring the park where the college folk had tried to help us light the lantern in the hope that they had fallen out before we actually went up the mountain. The friendly college persons helped us look but to no avail. The keys were not there. The college students offered to take us down to the Bridal Veil Falls gift shop to use a pay phone to call for help. They were very thoughtful and kind. Paul used the phone to call home and his sister Robin answered. Paul explained our predicament and Robin kindly responded by hanging up on him. Thanks, Robin! You are a treasure.

Fortunately our college age friends were still nearby and they offered to take us home. We were very grateful and accepted their offer. As we were being taken home I began to feel things crawling on me. All over me. When I grabbed one of these things it turned out to be a caterpillar. There were many and they were crawling in my hair, on my arms and on my legs. I repaid the kindness of the college peeps by leaving a pile of caterpillars on the passenger side floor of their car. It was the least I could do.

Camelot (It's only a model)

I suppose it was a rather impressive stump

There is a place near the south end of Utah Lake called King Arthur’s Round Table. It is an outdoor location where boy scouts can go to pat each other on the back while reciting the scout oath, I believe. It consists of a large wooden stump, as I remember, and does little to preserve itself in the memory of those who visit. I have been there precisely no more than once.

Paul and I went along for a ride with our friend Mary and some other people. We were told that we were going to King Arthur's Round table and we had thoughts of ham and jam and spamalot and other delicacies and wonders that would be very much worth our while. It sounded like an exciting place to go and we were intrigued. I recall that we were listening to Erasure: The Circus as we drove to our destination. Remember that key point. It will come into play later on in this narrative.

We arrived at King Arthur's Round Table and as I think about it, maybe the place is called Camelot and it merely consists of the round table in a field. Which table consists of a stump. OK, we're going with that then: It was called Camelot. We arrived at Camelot and as is probably anticipated after reading this far we remained quite unimpressed. I pressed our hosts for information on Camelot and precisely why I was expected to be impressed, hoping that perhaps it would be revealed that some historical or magical event had taken place here. Alas, it was no more than a stump in a field. Our hosts sat down at the Round Table and talked about how neat this place was while Paul and I went exploring to see if we could find anything to make the trip be less wasteful of our time.

We encountered an irrigation gulley with a wooden log spanning it acting as a bridge. I went across first then picked up a large branch with which to cause Paul's imbalance and potential eventual fall into the ravine. He appreciated and backed off to find a branch of his own to defend himself with. Once he found one it became important to try to dislodge each other from atop the log. With only as much as 5 feet to fall this game was neither dangerous nor long lasting.

We spotted some nearby cows and decided we would approach them and see what events developed. As we neared the cows Paul stepped in a warm, fresh cow pie. Sensing its moistness, he inserted his branch into the cow pie and flicked it upwards in my direction. Goodness rained down upon me. It was my turn to be appreciative. I scooped up a handful of a nearby moist cow pie and hurled it at Paul. While I had several spots of dung spread across much of me, Paul now had a large mass sticking to his shoulder. The appreciation escalated from there and for several minutes we each sought cow pies warmer and fresher than each pie hurled heretofore. It was not long before we were both covered in fresh, minty manure. But even after the cow pie fight, the appreciation was not over.

We returned to our friends at Camelot and explained what the green splotches and stains on our clothing were. Mary was hesitant to allow us back into her car for the trip back home. Even after we agreed to turn our shirts inside out she was not entirely pleased with us. For some reason.

In summary, go to Camelot often and hard.

Montgomery Q Teaser

And how!

If you would like this historic gem restored to some semblance of digitizationability, raise your hand. Better yet, send a message to Paul. His skills outweigh mine in the ability to restore this priceless memento. I have sent him the scans of the original artwork. Now all that remains is for him to exercise his talents. Visit his blog by clicking here and leave a comment for him urging him to invest some time in the restoration of the original story that warmed so many hearts. I feel certain that the overwhelming popularity of my blog will help see this through to fruition. Pleas and gifts may be useful in persuading him.

Paging Dr. Rosenheight

EEE!

Tape recorders were a mainstay in my juventud. That means youth. Paul and I would record several things a day including a story entitled The Follow Along Storybook of Great Worth featuring a likable fellow by the name of Montgomery Q. That's a story for another time, though, cause the story I want to relate at this juncture is about a time when my family was visiting my grandmother in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Gordon and I were splendid brothers to our younger siblings. They enjoyed us. To further esteem ourselves to them on this particular occasion, we pretended we were psychiatrists or some other unspecified doctors of dubious renown. Among the therapies we practiced were:

• Threatening to rub sunbreeze under the subject's eyes to gauge his reaction.
  
• Mocking the subject's failure to read words correctly.
  
• Asking the subject how he would react in a given hypothetical situation and repeatedly dismissing each response explaining that his reaction would not work.
  
• Requiring the subject to spend time alone in a room talking to a ceramic eagle, telling it the subject's feelings and thoughts then bursting into the room and deriding the subject for talking to a ceramic eagle as though it could hear and understand.
  

You can see that we were on the path to total stardom and it is merely a twist of fate that neither Gordon, nor myself are employed in the mental health profession at this time.

Fortunately for the scientific community, we tape recorded the entire scheme. Parties interested in nominating me for the Nobel Peace Prize, please contact me for details.

One of the subjects we allowed to participate was my younger sister, Tiffany. She was probably 4 or 5 years old at the time. Perhaps 3. We permitted her to spend a great deal of time in a room with the ceramic eagle and she imparted to it more wisdom than can be crammed into a phone booth or multivitamin. Here is the actual recording:



Some of the knowledge she endowed us with that day:

• You're going to understand your life until it is wheat.
  
• And while I know it, I'm just going to enter from the enfrone side.
  
• I want you to take off the light and never turn it on. Just for a while. For my career, because... and that's a promise.
  
• You're gonna see what it is, or not it is.
  
• Gonna be is the style. Any kind of style, that's the style that's gonna break.
  
• I just listen to myself to be my other night... ware.
  
• You're NEVER gonna need me, but I'm never gonna need you. See, this is the whole "entertise" and I don't think that's right. But it is right.
  
• And while I know it, I'm just gonna talk thru the mico..ph..cone and it's gonna be the last ember.

This recording brings joy and understanding to all who will but listen, won't we?