By this evening I’ll be waist deep in icy unclean water. It won’t have been that way before I arrived, but after I dip them big feet into all that fast moving pristine, it’ll make metam-sodium seem tame in the comparison.
The first of my “national average” 6 trips to the unspoilt – which will be unable to contain the greasy brown slick that comes off my outerwear, and will render all them nose-inna-air rarified fish into easy prey…
…or so I think.
I’ll be traveling incognito; Deerstalker set at a rakish angle, Meerschaum pipe with its well seasoned rosy-purplish tint, decked in Harris Tweed, and monocle clenched under the shade of manicured brow – offset with a hint of gayly colored ribbon affixing it to my starched uppers.
I’ll commiserate with the parking lot attendant – clucking my tongue in dismay at the appearance of discarded water bottles, empty beef jerky wrappers, and the really insidious invasives – capable of taking your legs out from under you at the run, leaving only the bloody fingernail marks disappearing into newly-murky water.
The Petrochemical Willard, with an entourage of polysyllabic pandemics in every vest pocket, defiler of the Untouched, and beloved of Sausage Dogs.
Uhh, we don’t have parking lot attendants up here, though occasionally we have nice folks who are willing to go through your vehicle and relieve you of all your spare paper and electronic goodies.
… and dogs that relieve you of all expired dairy products, stale cookies, rotten produce, and only “point” at styrofoam coolers.
Be careful about manicuring them brows,they’ll grow back twice as thick!
I don’t think there’s a verb in that last thing that otherwise might qualify as a sentence. Are you tryin’ to say somethin’ about Wally?
Wally has been neglected for months, I was forced to pet him for at least 90 minutes.
Then he picked the wrong vehicle and was forced to endure tennis instead of fishing – the howl of indignation could be heard for miles.