Thursday, August 8, 2013

The Great Watermelon Hunt of '88


Somewhere in the arctic tundra in the year 1888, a great hunt ensued - "the Great Watermelon Hunt of '88". For years, the northern hemisphere had been terrorized by a threat that was understood by few but feared by all. People were disappearing all over the hemisphere with no evidence but a trail of reddish juice and little black and slightly smaller white seeds.

Those among the unenlightened  thought this was the blood and bones of their missing friends for they did not understand the anatomy. But the few who had sought knowledge through the ages, emerging as heroes, knew the truth of matters. This! was the work of watermelons, a secret and most devious occult.

So the great hunt began, but not before the enlightened recruited the most able of their acquaintances to aid them in their mission. The wise members of the expedition knew that watermelons inhabited the deepest parts of the arctic tundra and so followed their compasses north. All knew it would be difficult to find these deviants but the leaders devised a plan that could not fail. In their packs they carried three items each. A penny whistle (which were known at that time as "half o' penny whistle" due to pre-inflated prices...), a spiral of dried orange rind, and a large net. The whistle would draw the Watermelons out from their hideaways while the orange rinds would comfort them as they felt akin to the function of rind, knowing much of rinds themselves. The net was self explanatory - the necessary snare.
The three items worked to such great effect that before the hunters knew it, they were practically overrun! Not a few Watermelons appeared but all! Watermelons. And with a great deal of effort and almost unending struggle, the hunters were triumphant for their nets were active and quick.
With the tremendous load they hurried home with the ensnared, but live Watermelons. There they performed the coup de gr√Ęce - the ceremonial carving and feast of the Watermelons. No more did friends go missing in a trail of Watermelon waste. 

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

The Results Are IN - 2012!

Due to a Sandwich shortage around the country, we did not have Sandwich of the year awards this past year. But it turns out that, apparently, there was no shortage of sandwiches in one corner of the country. It is with great pleasure that I announce this year's Sandwich of the year award... and for the first time ever, a one way tie:

A Warm Chunk Style Brisket on Rye


*Because these results have been published by special request, this author will be happy to add any other nominations from places where sandwiches may have been in abundance.


Friday, January 4, 2013

For Peat's Steak

There once was a man named Peat. He was named after peat moss, his parent's favorite of the 151-350 types of moss, and also the favored vegetable of the townsfolk (little known fact: the town of Broccoli, Missouri is the only town in the USA to even consider peat moss a vegetable!). The year was 1985 and the town of Broccoli was experiencing a meat shortage, and contrary to popular belief (in town, which, as previously suggested, is relative) one can only live on Peat Moss for very brief periods of time! So it was up to Peat (the man, not the moss) to take up the mission of finding the legendary meat mines that had been fabled for centuries but never discovered. He set off through the southern gates of town and began his long trek through fields of wheat grass, potato patches, and corn villages (yes, villages made out of corn. everybody knows about them). Eventually he made his way to the base of the great Cotton Tarp Mountain and began his long climb. As if by storm, his meat sense went off when he reached approximately 3/4 of the way up the north face of the mountain. Peat had not been privy to the local legend, but for many years it was told that one day there would be a drain on the meat supply, townsfolk would fall ill, and a magnificent savior would appear to pull them from the disaster. Peat was that man and he would never know it, because legends were always kept from heroes in the town of Broccoli. With his meat sensor ringing in his head, he pulled out his pick axe and began digging into the mountain side, chipping away inch by inch. After three weeks of non-stop work, fasting the entire time, knowing he would sacrifice himself for the good of his people if necessary, he finally struck the famed meat deposits. Swiftly harvesting as much meat as he could fit in his back pack, he made his way back to town where he was greeted with a hero's welcome. Townsfolk quickly emptied his bag and delivered a ripe steak to every family in town, saving the best for Peat himself. The mayor offered up his personal chef to the hero in thanks, but ever the selfless man, Peat declined. He cooked his steak to perfection and paired it with a side of peat moss as the town rejoiced around his home. People still speak of Peat's legend to this day. He is now retired and occasionally helps out at the local library so he can assist the townsfolk researching their favorite subjects, but mostly people just come to get a glimpse of their hero.