Author Archive for M. Toole

The enchanted hammock

Dawn broke one more clammy jungle time. Roosters and howler monkeys told the tale.

Across the peninsula campesinos sang their way to work perched happily on rickety bicycles, their machetes held tightly in leather sheaths against the handlebars or strung over their shoulders like prison chains. Accompanying them were small helpings of gallo pinto and tepid tea which would serve as the daily luncheon special. Memories of an early breakfast among the mango trees consoled them, and thoughts of dinner…more beans and rice and maybe a can of Imperial Beer. On Sunday there would be chicken. They could still live off the land, at least for the time being.

Why be sad? Why worry? Nothing was going to change and besides, each had his family to hold onto, his village and at least a small garden to tend while the evening sun dipped over the Golfo Dulce.

Marcelo Ramirez woke up early too. At 89 he still had chores to do. His lazy son Juan refused to help with the farm preferring to lounge in his hammock all day. After feeding his livestock and raking his front yard the old man washed, drank coffee and saddled up his aging bay mare, Carmen. It was now time for his daily pilgrimage to the village of Amarantha, three miles down the dirt road that connected LaPalma to Puerto Jimenez. There he would visit with the friends he had known for almost a century.

Passing children in navy and white school uniforms, sweating palm oil workers, a stray horse, a few citrus farmers and an occasional air-conditioned Gringo on the way to the eco-jungle lodges of Corcovado, he choked from the dust. Dry season was hell on the lungs but at least the corps of engineer bridges would not be flooded as they were in rainy season. Marcelo waved and chatted, as he and Carmen surveyed the edges of his farm. He reflected on his good luck since in all of his years he had not been forced into the dirty, dangerous work of palm oil extraction.

Today many of his neighbors spent the day in the palm forests, engaged in back-breaking labor. The fortunes they had been paid for their homes had quickly disappeared and they were once again destitute only this time landless as well. Now Nortes perched on their former property, building large houses, driving SUVs and cultivating gentlemanly banana crops.

As Marcelo wandered into town on the back of Carmen he was quite the sight to behold. Carmen, his mare of almost two decades was definitely slowing down but the slow stroll seemed to perk her up this morning. The pair had become as familiar a sight as banana trucks, scarlet macaws and the tour buses that had just began to reach to Osa Peninsula, bringing with them monetary salvation as perceived by the impoverished locals.Thet’d all be rich. It was just a matter of time.

He was a tough old vaquero with a heart of gold and a smile for everyone…except perhaps his off-spring. Juan, was a worthless bum and his daughter-in-law was no better. He saw himself as the local ladies’ man while Penelope regarded herself as a definite femme fatale, despite her extra 40 pounds.

Some thought Marcelo better off for having even questionable company out on his place, but he would have preferred solitude. His two grandsons, Mario and Alberto, still had potential but that diminished as they watched their parents sleep away the afternoons while Marcelo did all the work. They might have become closer but the parents discouraged it. Some day their grandfather would be dead and they would inherit the land. That’s what Juan had told them.

Across the washboard road the local brujo, Bernardo Espinozo, watched the daily parade. Hidden from view by thick fig trees, banana leaves and bougainvillea he peered out at the world crowded with inferior mortals.

Espinozo desperately sought respect from those around him. His continued witch status required displays of dark power and the casting of mighty spells. He could not comprehend how or why Marcelo would allow these parasite relatives to live off him. Clearly, after having served six months in prison for polygamy and car theft, Espinozo had many unresolved issues with mankind.

When Marcelo returned from the village he saw his son asleep in his hammock. The dishes from breakfast were piled high in the sink while his daughter-in-law, cracked open her first beer of the day. The two grandchildren were playing in an derelict pickup parked in the driveway. His son had promised to repair the old truck’s transmission three years ago. He passed the snoring Juan and the sipping Penelope without comment. He went out to the garden intent on doing battle with tropical weeds and grasshoppers. bu soon he was on the patio napping away the humid January afternoon.

That’s when Carmen died.

The grandsons found her and ran to tell Marcelo who rushed to the side of his longtime companion. Old age had taken its toll. Marcelo loved the horse. He stared down at her, a tear rolling down his tan, weathered cheek. Now she must be buried. The hired hand from the next farm got wind of the situation and showed up with a shovel, as did the neighbor and the owner of a small pulperia nearby. Juan lingered on the hammock refusing to lift a finger to help his father. He mocked the grave diggers, suggesting they join the animal in the hole.

The brujo, eager to regain his tenure and rejoin the celebrated ranks of sorcery, watched from across the road as the drama played out. Marcelo ignored his son while the neighbors openly glared at him swinging on the hammock. The story would be told in town that very afternoon of an evil son too lazy to help his father bury his beloved horse.

Espinozo conjured up a plot to rid Amarantha of Juan and his wife for good. He would need a charm, a hex, a pinch of voodoo and a vehicle through which to channel his power. He must have an instrument, something linked to Juan. He’s in that hammock almost all the time. It’s almost like a spider web but first he must lure the lazy couple away while he applied  the finishing touches. This called for serious incantation—witchery of the highest degree.

Chanting ancient words, he mixed the bellies of kinkajous with the eyebrows of a bulldog bat and the tongue of a tayra. He added the dust of a moonless night with the course fur of a peccary and the toxins from a poison-arrow frog. He concentrated some more, adding Tamarind seed and volcano ash, adjusting his brew, when, as if on call, along came the bait, the beautiful Maria Mendoza.

Every man in town had yearnings for Maria. She was 23 years old and a lovely creature. About a year ago her husband Hector had been crushed by a palm oil press and she was left alone with three children. She survived on money from her family in Cartago and gifts from her gringo dates. Her mere arrival in LaPalma at the Friendly Bar on the Corner caused guaro-chugging patrons to go mad. Fist fights and even a knifing or two were chalked up to her account.

Now she was swinging down the road within view of Juan’s hammock. He opened one eye and saw her. Peering around for his wife, Penelope, Juan slid out of the hammock and sneaked outside. Maria had already passed the farm and was headed toward one of the newly built tourist restaurants above the river. He followed her unaware that he was shadowed by Penelope.

The brujo watched the three figures disappear into the jungle. He saw that Marcelo was still asleep and that the two boys had gone to swim in the Rio Rincon. Bernardo Espinozo let himself in., quietly letting the dilapidated screen door close behind him

The first order of business was to employ personal articles, possibly articles of clothing, belonging to his potential victims in the spell casting. Then he knew he must touch the hammock with a pinch of his concoction so as to give it life. He found one of Juan’s many combs and stared at the hammock waving the comb back and forth, whispering the simple words “eat him-eat every bit of him” over and over. He did the same thing with one of Penelope’s sandals and the scarf, encouraging what he hoped was now an enchanted hammock’s appetite. Then he scurried back to his shack to await the return of his prey.

Maria had reached a group of customers at the restaurant before Juan could catch up to her. Penelope, however, had caught up to him. By the time the two returned to the farm they were in a heated argument but Juan, enticed by the thought of Maria, was in the mood for love. In less than an hour he had apologized for his conduct and had invited his wife to join him in the hammock. He kept inviting. What else was there to do that evening? He persisted and she resisted. Then a smile crossed her fleshy face. They were both in the little cottage alone for a change. After all, he was her husband. The hammock looked inviting.  Unaware of the danger she joined him.

That’s when the now enchanted hammock took over, quickly swallowing both of them without further adieu. It was business as usual at first but then Juan noticed his arms had turned to noodles. Then his neck seemed limp. Penelope’s smile had turned to fear as gravity came to play. Juan’s hair stood on end. His very veins became a target to the hammock’s aggression. His brain turned to mush. Penelope screamed as her ankles became embroiled with the netting. Soon Juan could not move. His entire torso glued to the lowest points of bodily contact with the web. He was gasping for breath as Penelope looked to him for some ungodly answer. Moments before death they both made a sort of contrition, hoping that this was not really the end. The hammock showed no such emotion.      

“We have so much to live for,” they both wailed. “The children…Marcelo…If only we could be given a second chance…We could make good…”

 It was all very clean, very complete. There was no blood, no broken bones, no residue of a struggle. The brujo had done his homework and the mission was accomplished in just short of five minutes.

Espinozo watched proudly while the hammock sucked them both into the abode of the condemned. The hungry hammock performed beautifully, leaving not so much as a crumb. As the short struggle subsided the brujo thought for sure he heard the smacking of hammock lips and even a slight burp.

“Good,” he said.

Hours later when the boys returned from the river and Marcelo had awakened from his nap there was no sign of Juan or Penelope. The hammock, however, swung back and forth contentedly, as if still occupied. Later that day a neighbor told Marcelo that he had seen the two walking in the jungle near where a prowling jaguars had been spotted only the night before. Somebody else claimed to have smelled a witches’ brew. No one went out to look for them. No one, even the family, cared. After week Marcelo discarded Juan’s  hammock and bought a three horses in LaPalma. The grandchildren, who had miraculously taken to working the farm, had accompanied him on the trek. His neighbors smiled as they approached. They were quite the sight to behold.

Espinozo, who openly claimed responsibility for the disappearance of Juan and Penelope, was soon after arrested for transporting a stolen vehicle across the Panamanian border at Rio Sereno. After countless escape attempts he remains incarcerated at a maximum security prison near David, where he enjoys telling this story.

Meanwhile Marcelo’s farm has flourished. With the help of his two grandsons it now boasts dairy cattle, sugar cane, corn, beans, rice, abaca, hemp and tobacco. It was now a peaceful, thriving farm and Marcelo does little of the work. The neighbors say they have never seen him looking better and that he will be sure to reach 100. His grandsons and he named two of the horses after Juan and Penelope and they named the third one after the jailbird, Bernardo.

– Kevin Haley

The naughty snowplows of C-DOT

Most of us take snowplows for granted. Following, passing or chaining up, we appreciate them only when it snows. Watching the machines clear ice and slush from the roadways and failing to recognize their powerful inward passions is a serious human oversight. The outward eroticism embodied by these giant-tire monsters, these flying steel buttresses, these vigilant saviors of the midway is illustrated in this pictorial.

Out on the highway snowplows conduct themselves according to official capacities but after the blades are dropped and the engines silenced for the night there is the need to wind down. That’s when the lusty orange libertines lift their skirts, drop all pretense and engage in unbridled eroticism common to the species.

Maybe they are victims of sexual repression. Perhaps the embrace of alternative sensuality is normal. Either way motorists should expect snippets of naughty behavior once the garage doors are flung open and these colossal ogres go on patrol.

A seemingly innocent young snowplow maiden, (left) drawn to the bright lights of sin and depravation inches her way into town after overtime hours in the high country. Many of these plows fall in with the wrong crowd and end up doing perfume and lingerie commercials or engaging in extra connubial activities when the barn goes dark.

Showing off frontal equipment (right) rascal snowplows readily pose as pinups for winter’s highway crews all over Colorado. Both genders see bawdy pictures like this as a normal way to ward off the stress of the job. The sheer power of chains and sanding provide a slippery scenario for sexual improprieties. Despite the efforts of highway officials, morality has diminished and kindred kinkiness reigns. The idle hours are often a mix of wicked and wayward impulse. Even the daily hosing down provides those special moments in front of the camera.

Group interaction, studded tires and even erotic dance steps fill the bill after a particularly pressure-filled day on the mountain passes. First comes the longing, then the quenched desire as exemplified by intimate, generally titillating poses and the flash of the camera.

Next month: Rogue Snowplows and Rutting Season

Hermits to host craft fair

(Montrose) Local hermits will present the first ever post-holiday arts and crafts show at Membership Hall in January. The two-day event will be held the second Monday and Tuesday of the month since most people are at work on those days. In addition, the decision to hold the festivities at non-traditional times is expected to curtail turnout.

The fair will feature an assortment of arts and crafts made by local hermits. The bulk of the wares will be displayed in darkened rooms, dusty booths and crowded storage units aimed at drawing the least attention. Often, if a an interested shopper reaches one of the disguised kiosks or the dressed down bazaars no one will be on hand to make the sale or take their money.

“We think the idea is solid unless you like a lot of traffic,” said one hermit. “A person can be an artist without embracing his fellow man.”

The hermits made it clear that if nobody showed up they would hold an even larger, more expanded exhibition in 2020.

– Ripple van Winkle

O’Toole “whacked upside the head” by a shooting star

(Colona) It’s straw winter in the Rockies and anything can happen. Why just the other night our associate editor collided with what local astronomers surmise was a shooting star.

Actually the star collided with Toole sending him senselessly shooting through a drift of man-made snow, frightening a crew of mule deer, and leaving residents wondering what else is on the agenda.

“I was just out in the yard feeding my marmots when Wham! I was forty feet to the south. My knees and elbows took the worst of it and the sudden flash did nothing for my cell phone reception or my attitude.”

O’Toole is currently under observation at St Roscoe’s Drive Through Clinic in Mañana. He is reportedly hoping he has enough miles, coupons, bingo credits or bonus stamp books to pay for the stay.

Legend has it that anyone hit by a falling star could expect great wealth and fame throughout his or her lifetime. Sadly, we could find no distinct reference to this legend much to the chagrin of the red-blooded target.

Although quite rare, accidents and confrontations involving heavenly bodies and people do happen. Experts tell us that meteors and rogue gravitational debris are more common dangers but that an occasional shooting star could be a threat to a continued lifespan.

“The incident in no way launches O’Toole into some elite group nor does it signify anything supernatural or mystical,” said a neighbor who reminded us that the scribe has survived shark attacks, high altitude lightning, several marriages and bad chorizo since moving to Colona in 1912.

“He’ll be back puttering by the weekend,” said the neighbor. “There have been all kinds of things falling out of the sky around these parts since summer. We figured it was the lack of moisture.”

– Gabby Haze   

Rejected Explanations for Jamal Khashoggi’s Murder

(Istanbul UPS) Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has repeatedly denied knowledge of and involvement with the recent death of a Washington Post reporter Jamal Khashoggi. The journalist went missing after entering the Saudi Consulate in Istanbul on October 2. It is believed that he was assassinated by a 15-man Saudi Security team sent to Turkey for that draconian purpose. Here at home President Trump has denied evidence much like he denies that climate change brought on by humans.

“The Prince Salman would never lie about something like this,” said Sheik Sushi Tuna, former director of security in Riyadh. “He has already rejected some of the more likely scenarios relating to the alleged murder of Mr. Khashoggi. We suggested he might have fallen down the consulate stairs or maybe slipped in the shower,” Tuna continued. My colleagues and I then suggested that he was hit by falling debris in that the old consulate is always under some kind of construction. My chauffeur, who has a medical background, thinks the victim experienced a heart attack while resisting authorities.”

Abdul “Mickey” Trout, a Saudi fishmonger and animal behaviorist in Yemen, echoed the concerns and frustrations of the Kingdom saying that a rabid camel probably mauled Khashoggi.

“Many camels still harbor resentment over the results of the competition and the accompanying Botox scandal,” smiled Trout. “Some have embraced violence.”

King Abdulaziz, producer of this year’s Camel Festival in Rumah had no comment on these developments.

“The signs are there: the struggle, the breakage, the camel hair,” Trout continued. “If not a rogue Dromedary then it must have been a fast traveling flu that he picked up in Turkey. This whole mess could not have had anything to do with the Crowned Prince who was over in Jersey playing the casinos at the time of the incident.”

Other Saudi diplomats were quick to suggest that Khashoggi stabbed himself in the back 45 times or fell into a well. Most say he had terrorist links and was tainted by his time in the United States.

“Khashoggi? Isn’t that a Polish dumpling?” asked a Trump spokesman.

-Kashmir Horseshoe

ROCKY CHOWDER

SERVICES OFFERED Will put down your old tractors. Quickly, effectively, painlessly. Big Foot Farms, River Road, Olathe. Know someone growing illegal mistletoe? The DEA is paying top dollar for information leading to the indictment of these criminals in your own backyard. Once we fill the prisons with these people we can achieve full employment and true utopia through government control. Huzzah!

Maternity ensemble once worn by Madonna’s mother. General Delivery, Hollywood.

Wanted to buy: I LOVE GUNS. I really love guns. I like the way they feel in my hand and the noise they make when fired. I love guns about as much as I love storm trooper boots and starched collars. Let me buy your guns – Quentin Dink, Wimpton Police Cadet Lounge.

Drug Lord Appliances from $50! These nearly new washers, dryers, microwaves and more. Were confiscated from suspected drug lords in Florida and Texas. Some rust and avocado. Also seized refrigerators, freezers, swarthy futons, anarchistic toasters, revolutionary ranges and rough air conditioners. January Special: Poblado Dishwasher: $45. See at Zero Tolerance Appliances. We’re winning the War on Drugs. You’ll see.

Turn your food processor into a word processor by the application of simple pickle down economics. Dial 34.

Nearly new forehead weights perfect for the mental giant or the thinking athlete who seeks to improve his/her mind. Margot Rotweiller at the Horseshoe.

Brainless parrots needed to throw gasoline on the bonfire of crime in urban America. Send picture of hair, recent tape and description of on-the-air experience to Star Search, KBLO-TV, Denver, Colorado 80207.

ARE YOU employed in the Department of Agriculture? Rehabilitation is available. With your cooperation and our expertise we can have you flipping burgers by spring – Your Federal Government.

Trouble getting through doors? Sign up today for our innovative program “Aerobics at Night”. This patented workout is conducted after dark with the lights out so as to avoid the embarrassment often associated with those first few days of physical activity. The only thing on is the music and the tiny reflective monitor on your instructor’s naval. Be a new you in 2019.

Are you easily persuaded by pseudo-religious ranting and raving? Do you like to be told how to live? Is the rumor of the hereafter more important than your current treatment of your fellow man on earth? Do you fear anyone with new ideas? We can use a few, good moralizing Americans to help us gain control of this country and turn it into the oligarchy that our forefathers intended it to be. Send for more information today. Coloradans for Family Values, Taliban-Cromwell Complex, Colorado Springs, CO.

Will pay top dollar for dirty postcards, dirty dishes, dirty fingernails, and some dirty thoughts. Vulture Dentures, Wimpton Mall.

MEL’S MEATS is looking for a responsible cleaning person for busy slaughterhouse operation. No Communists. The job is quite easy since Mel’s Meats has no windows or stairs. We are part of the heralded Fun Employment Sham Concept and pay minimum wage with no benefits. We have no maternity leave or daycare either. Vegetarian preferred. Come around to the back door before noon weekdays.Ask for Ms. Whitewash.

Hijackers needed for weekend projects in the Caribbean. Mechanical aptitude helpful. Must speak recognizable Spanish and English. Rubric Cuban, Santiago de Cuba.

What’s all this about ending the reign of the Bureau of Reclamation? Then what? Has everything really been reclaimed already? For more write Department of Suburban Asphalt and Smog, I-25, Denver, CO.

Saxophone engineer. Part time. Good pay. Could lead to full time position in Presidential Cabinet or White House Symphony. See Conductor on Pennsylvania Avenue before it’s too late.

Needed: Have Aberdeen semen, frozen direct from Scotland. Seeking heifers of fine standing. Thawing rapidly. Spring’s on the way. Meltdown eminent. Contact Gus at the Fern Chuckwagon.

The Haywire Ranch Irrigation College is now accepting students for the winter semester. Prerequisite includes sturdy shovel and some knowledge of childish civil engineering. Send transcripts c/o Dr. G. R. Lovingood, Director, School of Body Chemistry.

Lost: Small white male. Finders Keepers…Louella Parsimmons, Olathe. Will trade Harley parts for large, useable crutches. Matawan of Whitewater.

FOR SALE: Rare fountain pens used by George and Boris to sign nuclear arms pact in Moscow back a ways. On display at Team Ink. Serious inquiries only.

Hard charging corporate type wheeler-dealer who can turn his/her head needed to change tires at busy adverting agency. Good prospects for the person who can remember who drinks what in their coffee and who likes mustard, mayo, rye, white…Get it? So can you! We are a politically correct agency because it’s trendy and we all wear suspenders, even on weekends. Mortsern, Hamill and Glick, Rat Mill Pike.

Final Warning: Anyone caught with a Christmas tree still up after February 1 will be punished – E. Scrooge, Dogbreath Village.

Does your conscience often bother you? Do you lay awake at night unable to sleep? Surgery is now available. Qualm Surgical Group, Indian Massacre Highway and Wimpton Clinic.

Announcing: The First Annual DesPlants Family Reunion at the Delta County Jail on February 24-27. Bring proof of heritage, parole or release papers and covered fish. Accommodations will be provided. For more call Enselmo DesPlants at the jail.

Great Pyrenees-Chihuahua mix. Could turn out to be great smeller or speller. Ready to go on New Year’s Eve about 3:15 pm. Wanda’s Dogs and Things, Almont. Work right at home.

Night auditor needed to keep track of waste for federal government. Great pay and benefits. Proof of citizenship and familiarity with pocket calculator important. Must be able to translate from government abbreviations to English. Send brief resume to Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Director of Diversion and Snow Plows, Washington DC.

Need: Happy people to operate solar car wash for wealthy man. Minimum wage plus keep 100% of tips. Contact Western Colorado Coalition for the Preservation of Minimum Wage, Montrose, CO.

Keep your cowpoke on the right range with Mel’s Cowboy Chastity Belts. Buy one before Valentine’s Day and we will give you a monogrammed snuff can lid for your wrangler’s ensemble. Darkroom Acres.

Will pay top dollar for original Iraqi jokes. Slim at the Fern Chuckwagon Dance Hall in Mancos. Bad Cowboy Poets always in demand at the Fern Chuckwagon. Call Slim.

HEREFORD-POODLE MIX PUPS. Should be excellent cow dogs. Slim at the Fern Chuckwagon in Tail Town.

Diluted and edited naughty perfume ads. Set of 40 videos for $100. Box 99999, Horseshoe.

NEW PROOF: Ronald Reagan almost voted for Bill Clinton back in 1992. Those voting booths get more confusing every year, don’t they! We’ll fix it in 2020. Ya sure.

Let Eddie Murphy teach your kids how to attain fame and riches through vulgarity. Send foul-mouthed tape to Alternate Education Systems, 1200 Brown Cloud Way, Commerce City, CO.

It’s time to enact the death penalty for environmental terrorists. Let’s start with the bosses over at Rocky Flats. They dumped toxic waste into the water and plutonium into the soil. If we’re serious about preserving what’s left of this planet let’s set a precedent for the future. Write your Congressman today and demand satisfaction. They (the Congress) will do anything to stay on the gravy train until the next election. For more information send SASE to Ecological Mercenaries of America, Toronto, Ontario.

POWER FORWARD desperately needed for NBA franchise in Rocky Mountain region. Travel a must. Swing shift. Send resume to Denver Nuggets.

Will purchase Ramblin’ Jack Elliot instrumentals for market price. Call Ramblin’ Jack Elliot at Talagi’s in Boulder.

Thinking about getting a flattop? We specialize in cranial excavation, refinishing, frontal irrigation, weekend lobotomies and related services. Let us prepare your head for the barber/stylist. Industrial Coiffures. We’re Blonded.

Phony Resumes. Dial 56 and hold it. KARAOKE SALON now open in Montrose. You move your mouth we move the scissors. Perms available on cassette and compact disc. Appointments available right now!

Looking for experienced bass player for Washington DC jazz combo. Gifted economist or liberal philanthropist preferred. Call Mike at White House Investments.

Alliterate poets needed for new magazine concentrating on the letter “r”. Send manuscripts to Robert de Frost c/o Gothic Aquatic Center before February 15.

RED: Forget all the philosophizing about whether the glass is half empty or half full. You’re glass seems to be empty far too often. You are a lush. Happy Birthday – ANDREA.

Will spike Christmas trees for small fee – I. M. Hipp Hugger, Water Diversion Project Ave., Wimpton.

Frackin’ Freddie’s will purchase sturdy lawn and leaf bags. Call Ms. Toxic at our Jefferson County Purchasing Office today!

Get your very own Akpatok Mink Coat before the species is totally extinct! That’s correct! A beautiful Akpatok Mink from the shores of Ungava Bay. $6500 plus postage. Also baby seal serapes, gorilla hand ash trays, ivory cigarette holders and more. Scum Importers, Cape Chidley, Newfoundland. “Where Western European traditions are alive”.