Eye Ahem Da Guvner; Chapter Five

 

Chapter Five:

 

     Grandma Astrid couldn’t believe it; her dip-s*** grandson and his idiot friend had resorted to bank robbery. Well, she really shouldn’t have been surprised. Leave it to Earle Edgar to try something as moronic as this. Heaven forbid he actually work hard for his money, when there was a much easier way. Apparently, that was dip-s***'s motto,

     “Let someone else bust their a**; I’ll be there to swoop in and steal it!”

     What a loser! She was ashamed that he was related to her. She wished there was a way to tell the police that she knew who their suspects were without revealing the fact she was related to one of them; but there wasn’t.

 

 

     Earle Edgar and Jimmy pulled into a place called A-Okay Pre-Owned Motors on the edge of Salt Lake City. They pulled the camper into the sales lot, and 3 salesmen ran towards their camper. One guy tripped another, and in turn, he went down under a punch from the last salesman. The last guy ran towards them and then changed to a relaxed walk as he got closer.

     “Howdy friends! I’m Walt Pepper; what might I do for you today?”

     “Wiel, wee ar luken ta trayad dis fyn vehickal inn onn sumpin eles.”

     “Well now, are you looking for another recreational vehicle?”

     “Noe, anotur campur wil bee fyne!”

     “Oh, I see,” replied a confused Pepper. “Well, what kind of money are you gentlemen looking to spend?”

 

 

     Henry Scofield was cleaning out the used camper he had purchased from A-Okay Pre-Owned Motors. He had gotten a reduced price because A-1 hadn’t had time to clean all the garbage out. He was busy thowing things away; man, this thing was full of garbage! He’d cleaned out everything but a ratty-looking old mattress. He had saved this thing for last so he could use it to help hold down the garbage he had thrown into his other truck, He’d throw the old mattress on top of the load, tie it down, and drive to the garbage dump. As he was hoisting up the mattress, a package fell out of it and broke open on the ground. The contents sparkled in the sunlight. What’s this? They looked almost like real diamonds, but some child had obviously been playing pirate, and hid these glass stones in a hole in the mattress. Well, he was no child, and he grabbed up the priceless gems and tossed them into the load going to the dump. He had more important things to do than pretend he was a pirate, like how was he going to come up with enough money to make his next alimony payment? He probably shouldn’t have splurged on this camper, but what the hell? A guy had to blow off some steam now and then; didn’t he, and his way was to get out and camp in the woods.

 

 

     As they drove away from A-Okay, a cloud of blue smoke trailed behind them. Without money, the pickup truck with a tarp stretched across the bed had been the only thing they could trade for.

     “Earle Edgar, what are we supposed to do about cooking?” asked Jimmy.

     “Owe, weel juss hav ta git uss won ov dem campin stowevs an uas itt. Weed ew nott hav mutch choyes.”

     They had had to get something to sleep in, and since they had no money, they couldn’t be choosy. Walt Pepper had told at first he just didn’t have anything for them. But then had thought of the old junker truck they had out back of their building. When he had showed it to them, Earle Edgar and Jimmy Reno had exchanged looks, and Earle Edgar had said,

     “Iz dis ta owenly ting yew hav tew trayad?”

     “Yep,” Pepper had replied. “That’s all we could trade for your camper.”

     “Sheit! Wel, owakay den, exept itt haz kno ware fer uss ta slepp.”

 

 

     And so, after Pepper had stretched a tarp over the bed, they had made the switch. It was less than ideal, but what else could they do? They headed out of Salt Lake City and chugged their way north. They were driving along the freeway in the light of day when Earle Edgar asked,

     “Eye wunder wi dayy cawl dis layk Da Greyt Salet Lak?” Before Jimmy could answer him, Earle Edgar continued,

     “Saya, wi donut yew fynd an rowed dat gowes bi da lak, Eyema tererable thirsti.”

     “That’s not a goo--”

     He was cut off by an angry Earle Edgar. “What, kno 'Wi donut tew fynd an rowed dat gowes bi da lak?' Yer slipen, Jimmy. Juss dew itt, okaya?”

     “But---”

     “Wats rong wid yew? Eye saayd dew itt noww!”

     “But---”

     “Owe, fer krien owet lowad, juss fynd an friken axess rowed!” he snapped.

     Jimmy did what Earle Edgar asked, even though he knew Earle Edgar would soon regret it. When they were stopped next to the lake, Earle Edgar grabbed the canteen from behind the seat, and told Jimmy,

     “Eyel bee rite bak, Eyema goen ta fil dis kanteene upp width watur.”

     Jimmy thought he’d make Earle Edgar understand. “Earle Edga---”

     But he wasn’t listening; slamming the door in Jimmy’s face and cutting him off. Earle Edgar found a good spot, and plunged the canteen under the water, and when it was full, resecured the lid and climbed back into the cab of the truck, saying,

     “Noww, dryev uss baayak tew da friwayy.”

     Jimmy watched as Earle Edgar unscrewed the lid and raised the canteen to his lips. Here it comes! Earle Edgar’s cheeks bulged with water and then he swallowed. Immediately, a geyser of water flew from his mouth, and he started retching.

     “Wat iz dis sheit?” he shouted.

     “I tried to warn you, but no!”

     “Wel, itt tatid juss aweful.”

     “Now you know why it’s called The Great Salt Lake.”

     “Kwit makin mi gues, an tel mi; Eye donut kno!”

 

     They had stopped at a department store before leaving Salt Lake City, and while Jimmy had distacted the clerk, (actually, he’d been asked to leave after launching into his stand-up routine), Earle Edgar had stolen a cheap camp stove, a can opener, and some cans of food. With disgust, Jimmy had found that the driver’s side window on the truck didn’t roll all the way to the top, and rainwater from the storm above them blew into his face. What a pile!

 

 

     They had at last decided to stop and prepare some hot food. While Jimmy was doing his best to clean up, Earle Edgar tried to light the camp stove. “Nowe howw dew yew turen onn da friken gayes?” He turned every knob on the thing, and a hiss was heard emanating from the stove. Owe grate, dares sumpen rong wid da bich!  he thought while he looked for a level place to try and light it. He put a cardboard box over it to shield it from the wind, and went to find a couple of paper plates they had bought, then returned to the stove. He removed the box and struck a match, then lowered it towards the burner. He luckily had leaned backwards just in time as a giant ball of fire erupted, singing his eyebrows and shooting skyward, where it caught the overhanging branches of a tree alight.

     Earle Edgar thought, sheit, noww wat dew Eye dew?

     The tree quickly burned and spread the fire to several more trees. Jimmy saw the rapidly-spreading flames, and said in a panic,

     “What do we do now Earle Edgar?”

     “Gitt inn da truyk, wer gitten owet ov heer!”

 

     As they sped up upon reaching the freeway, at all of 45 miles an hour, several fire trucks went by going in the opposite direction, sirens wailing and lights flashing. Earle Edgar and Jimmy exchanged knowing looks, and then Jimmy said,

     “We still need money. Why don’t we stop in Ogden and try my solution?”

     “Ya meen staned upp comady? Owekay, Eye dwont cee aniuther wayy owet ov ar predickomint. Weel giv yer wayy an tri.”

 

     They had found a little comedy club around the campus of Weber State University in Ogden. Jimmy just had to win the $250 first prize; hell, it was the only prize! They had crept into Ogden on E. Now they were out of money and options unless Jimmy won the competition, which he was positive he would. Earle Edgar had his doubts, as he’d had to put up with Jimmy’s so-called “jokes” for a long time, but they had no other choice.

     Mayebee Jimys betar dan Eye amembar!  he thought

 

 

     The spotlight was shining on the comedian who was on right before Jimmy Reno was due up; and when he took the stage tonight, in front of a crowd of complete strangers and left them with tears of laughter streaming down their faces, Earle Edgar would see the truth at last; he knew funny. He was so into daydreaming about bringing the house down with his jokes, he almost missed his cue. He snapped out of it just in time to hear,

     “...about a big round of applause for Ed; come on, Give it up for Ed!”

     Maybe a couple of people clapped half-heartedly and then the announcer continued,

     “Okay, thank you to Ed. Next, but certainly least, and last; is a very funny man from, ah, someplace. Please give a big how-do for Jimmy Reno!”

     As he walked onto the stage and under the blinding spotlight, Jimmy tried desperately to remember which punchline went with what joke. He was in a panic; he just had to remember. He stammered into the microphone, “How y’all doing tonight? Y’all want a good laugh?”

     From the audience he heard, “It’s about damn time; we’ve been waiting for something even remotely humorous from one of you losers!”

     Oh great, a drunk-off-his-a** heckler. “Yeah pal, I remember my first beer too!" The audience chuckled, and Jimmy gained back his confidence. “Speaking of beer, this horse walks into a bar, and the bartender says, “Is there something wrong with your skull?” Jimmy heard nothing but silence and saw nothing but disbelieving stares from the audience. He was perspiring heavily now, as he tried in vain to remember his next joke.

     “You suck pal!” someone shouted.

     “Yeah, I remember my first heroin high too!” Again, he heard nothing but silence. “Ah, there once was a girl from Nantucket, who had a really long face!”

     “EEEEEEE!” came the feedback from his monitors, as it bounced off the walls and came back to slap him in the face, followed by boos that gradually grew in volume. Tears came to Jimmy’s eyes, and then he ran for the nearest exit.

 

 

     Earle Edgar sat watching as one after the other, amateur comics staggered up on the stage, told their 'jokes' rapid-fire, and staggered offstage to the sound of raucous silence. The bar had been set so low that maybe Jimmy did have a chance! He had watched as Jimmy had gotten his introduction. He walked out on stage and stood under the glare of the spotlight.

     Owe-oweh, hees gott dat deere cot inn da hedllites look; cowm owen, Jimy!  he thought.

 

     Jimmy started his routine. Someone in the crowd shouted something derogatory, to which Jimmy replied, “Yeah, I remember my first beer too!”

     The audience chuckled. Earle Edgar thought, nowet an bayad comabak!

     Jimmy launched into his first joke. After he'd uttered the 'punchline', Earle Edgar slumped in his chair.

     What? "Evun da werst komik knos itts, '....an da bartendar sayes, 'Hay, wi da longe fayce?' Coem owen, pul yeref toogethar!" Earle Edgar mumbled to himself.

     No one even smiled at that one. Then a heckler yelled something derogatory again.

     Jimmy came back with a line that was suppossed to be funny, but which fell flat, which prompted nothing but deadly silence and disbelieving stares again from the audience. Then Jimmy hurridly told his next 'joke'.

Sheit!   If it were at all possible, he had blown that joke even more. The only sound to be heard was the feedback from his monitor; then the booing started, gradually growing in volume. Jimmy stood transfixed, and then ran for the closest exit.

 

 

     Earle Edgar slid into the passenger’s seat and sat. Jimmy sat behind the wheel and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. He asked, “Where to, Earle Edgar? We don’t have enough gasoline to make it very far.”

     He sounded so pathetic that despite what he was going to say, Earle Edgar said instead, “Cowm owen, Jimy, donut lett dose basterds bothar yew; hel, dayy wuldnt kno funy ife itt tuk an dumpe inn dare shue!”

     Slowly, Earle Edgar saw a trace of a smile on Jimmy’s face, which turned into out-and-out laughter. “Eh, ha, ha; Earle Edgar, that would make a damn funny joke! 'They wouldn’t know funny if it took a dump in their shoe.' ah, ha, ha!”

     It was good to see Jimmy snap out of the downers. “Eye tel yew wat, yew kan uas dat owen nex tyme yew dew yer comidy rooteen.”

     “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that because I was starting to doubt myself. Do you really think I’ve got what it takes?”

     Ife buy wat itt tayks, yew meen, 'Wat it tayes ta mayak ta hole friken playc projektil vomet owen da tabel inn frunt ofn dem, den  “Absewlewtly!”

 

     They were desperate for money. They would be unable to leave Ogden until they got some. They were completely broke, and had tried everything they could think of, but nothing had worked. If they wanted to go anywhere, they would have to find work. Jimmy Reno had found an Ogden newspaper on a park bench, and he and Earle Edgar were looking through the help wanted ads to find some way to earn enough money so that they could continue on their journey to Washington State. Then Earle Edgar noticed an ad for someone with government experience. He was curious to find out what it entailed. The ad had stated that interested people should contact Jane Sequin at 555-5556. He went to the nearby payphone and dialed the number. It rang several times before a male voice answered,

     “Hello?”

     “Yaya, Eyem calen ubowet da advartismint inn da papur, is da joweb stil avaylable?”

     “I’m sorry, but you must have dialed this number by mistake. This is a private home, and there’s no one by that name here.”

     “Wat? Isnt dis 555-5556?”

     “No, I’m afraid it’s 555-5565.”

     “Sum ov an bich!” and he slammed down the reciever. Angry with himself for apparently dialing the number wrong, Edgar Earle tried again. It rang several times, and then,

     “Hello?”

     “Yaya, Eyema calen ubowet da advartismit inn da papur, iz da joweb stil avaylable?”

     “I’m afraid you’ve mistakenly dialed the same wrong number. This is the same person you just talked to.”

     “Wel, itt juss aint mi friken daye!” screamed Earle Edgar, before slamming the phone down. He was out of quarters to call again, so he asked Jimmy for one. Jimmy told him,

     “I don’t have anymore; I’m completely broke.”

     “Dubal sum ov an bich!” he yelled.

 

     Now what? They’d hit rock bottom. They didn’t even have a quarter left to make a phone call. Earle Edgars face turned beet-red with rage, and he grabbed a stick off the ground and snarled,

     “Eyeva hayd awebowet enuf ov dis sheit; Eyela git uss sum muny! Meate mi inda parek ovar der!”

     “Why?” asked Jimmy, but before he had a chance to try to talk him out of it, Earle Edgar had shoved the stick he’d picked up into his pocket, went up to a man sitting on a neaby park bench, and shouted,

     “Oakay, dis is an gunn inn mye pockit; giv mi awl yer muny!"

     The startled man replied, “Excuse me?”

     Jimmy left in a hurry for the park.

     “Eye sayed, dis iz an gunn inn mye pokit; giv mi awl yer muny!”

     “How do I know that thing in your pocket isn’t just some stick you picked up?”

     Howw diyd hee figger owet dat?' thought Earle Edgar. “Itt aint kno stiyek, itts an gunn!”

     “Well then, if it’s a gun, you wouldn’t mind taking it out of your pocket and showing me.”

     S**t. Earle Edgar yelled, “Nevur miyaned!” and took off running.

 

     He had found a new victim, a lady sitting on another park bench, and once again he gripped the stick in his pocket, went up to her, and yelled, “Oakay, dis iz an gunn inn mye pokit; giv mi awl yer muny!”

     The women screamed, “Please, take my purse, just don’t kill me!”

     He snatched the purse from her grasp, and took off running.

 

     He had met up with Jimmy in the park across the street from where he’d robbed the woman, after going in a big circle, just to be safe, and together they were looking through the stolen purse.

     Jimmy looked uneasy, and said, “I don’t like having to steal.”

     Earle Edgar replied, out of breath,“Neethor dew Eye, butt dare waz kno uther wayy.”

     He opened her wallet, and saw a credit card and a whole bunch of green. His shaking hands took the money out of the wallet, and he counted $2,445 dollars.

     “Howeli sheit, wee hyat da muthar lowed!”  He pocketed the money and tossed the credit card. It wouldn’t be too smart to hang on to evidence of their crime.

 

     She had told herself she shouldn’t carry that much cash in her purse, and her biggest nightmare had come true; Mrs. Gordon Link had been robbed. It figured! Oh well, it was her ex-husband’s money, and there was plenty more where that had come from.

 

     They at last had some money, and so Earle Edgar and Jimmy had driven along I-84 until they were into Idaho and had left Utah far behind. They had stopped at a grocery store to load up on snacks, but now Earle Edgar wanted something sweet. Earle Edgar had told Jimmy to swing the pickup into a roadside mini market, and he was now walking through the front door. He walked up to the cashier and said,

     “Helo dare, Eyma luken fer da doe nutts; dew yew hapin ta half ani?”

     The clerk replied, “Oh, need a sugar fix, do you?”

     “Noe, butt Eyema inn da moowd fer sumpin sweete.”

     The confused clerk, who didn’t look older than 17, and because to him Earle Edgar was ancient and didn’t quite understand, responded, “Whatever there, dude. Can I help you find something else, say our health medicines? We don’t have much, but if we had anything to help you improve your mental capacity, they’d be over on Aisle 3. THAT’S THE THIRD AISLE OVER!” He had cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled it, like Earle Edgar was hard of hearing, which immediately pissed him off.

     “Eye kan heer ya juss fyn!” he snapped.

     “Excuse me, I didn’t mea---”

     Leaping over the counter, Earle Edgar shouted, “Lyk hell!” as he grabbed the unfortunate and baffled clerk by the throat and started slamming his head onto the floor, screaming, “Eyema nowet hared ov heerin, Eye juss caam inn fer an friken doe nutt!”

     At last, his rage was diminishing. He let go of the head of the clerk. 'Dat gui pised mi ofe, butt Eyed probubly betar git!' he thought. He ran back to where Jimmy was waiting with the truck. “Git hir mooven!”

     “What’s the problem?”

     “Owe, fer Kriests saak, wuud ya juss dew itt?”

     Jimmy threw the truck into reverse, backed out of the parking spot, and they screeched back onto I-84 towards Boise.

 

     When at last they were pulling into Boise; Earle Edgar took a heavy whiff of the air in the cab of the truck, and made a face,

     “Jimy, howe loweng hayas itt bin sinse yew tuk an showar?”

     “I didn’t take a shower anywhere. It’s still in the same spot. Eh, ha, ha!”

 Owa sheit, Eye wawlkd rite inn to dat one!  Earle Edgar thought. “Noe, Eyma seerius, yew reak!”

     Jimmy angrily replied, “Well you don’t smell like a bed of roses either; I was being nice and not bringing it up.”

     “Owa, iz dat rite? Cunpared too yew, Eye muss smel lyk an feeld ov dayzees!”

     “Now all I’m saying is that neither one of us smells very good.”

     “Den letts agre dat bowth ov uss culd staned an bayeth.”

     “Oh, no, I like to sit down to take mine. Eh, ha, ha!”

     Dis gui muss tink hees compeeten on teevee fer summ soret ov comidy awared! thought Earle Edgar. “Aw, hwa, hwa, dats funy!”

 

 

     From I-84, they headed north on highway 95, until they linked up with, and were headed west, on I-90. It wouldn’t be long, and they’d arrive in the Seattle area. As Earle Edgar watched the lights of Spokane glide by outside his window, he was thinking about what they should do once they got there. He couldn’t say why he’d decided on Seattle, maybe it had something to do with the fact that the bus he had tried sneaking on had been heading there; it really made no difference. He’d been so intent on getting out of Jimmyville, he hadn’t thought much about the future. It seemed so strange; to go from the governorship of Alabama, to creeping into Seattle with no firm plans; and being a wanted man. He needed to come up with another name to use. So, just like that, Earle Edgar Nekk became 'John Smith.'

 

     As they watched the space needle and the skyline of Seattle coming closer rapidly, Earle Edgar was racking his brain, trying to come up with some way to make a living. He tried to match the job with what he knew of the Puget Sound area. He could get a fishing trawler and become a fisherman for salmon, except he hated the slimy b******s. He could become a lumberjack, except he was afraid of heights. Every possible vocation had at least one drawback for him. As they crossed the Mercer Island Floating Bridge, he became more and more depressed.

 

     They had arrived in Seattle; now what? Unless he figured out some way for them to make a living, and heaven help them if they had to rely on Jimmy’s comedic skills, they were in serious trouble. What he needed was a break from thinking. Thinking made his head hurt.

     “Saya Jimy, du yew feyal liyak an beir?”

     “Okay, Jimmy, do you feel like a beer? And no, I feel like I’m just a human being. Eh, ha, ha!”

     Eyema sew sik ov hiyas layam senc ov humar!  Earle Edgar thought. “Noe, whi donut wee stopp awt an tavarn?”

     “Sure, sounds good.”

 

 

     As they walked into Buzz’s Central, the jukebox was pounding out some awful country song about a guy who had shacked up with his sister, and now had to take care of several children who were a little off. The people seated at the bar were slumped over their beers, and none even looked up as they came in. The atmosphere only added to Earle Edgar’s depression. Coming here had been a bad idea. He just wanted to order a beer, drink it as soon as he could, and get the hell out of here. As they found a couple of empty barstools, the bartender, wearing a dour expression that matched the whole place, walked slowly down the bar and said,

     “Welcome, gentleman, what can I get for you?”

     Jimmy spoke up first. “Oh, let me see; a flaming rum punch!”

     The bartender, whose nametag said his name was Larry, gave back not even a smile, and said,

     “Surely you can’t be serious?”

     Owe sheit, heer itt commes!  thought Earle Edgar. But Jimmy for once sensed the bartender’s total lack of a sense of humor, and replied only,

     “Ah, yeah, I’m only kidding. Give me a beer on tap, please.”

     “Ayal half da saam,” Earle Edgar told the bartender.

     As he shuffled, eyes downcast, to get their beers, Earle Edgar shot Jimmy a sideways glance, and said very quietly, “Dis plaac blowes; dringk fas, an letts git da hel owet ov heer.”

     When the bartender brought their beers and set them down in front of them, Jimmy grabbed his and guzzled it, saying,

     “Finished, let’s get out of here.”

     But Earle Edgar didn’t hear; he stared at his beer.  Eye nevur thowet ov dat; sumhow, sumway, Eyel opin mi owen brewary!  he thought. “Nott sew fayast thare, Jimy. Eye juss hayd an grate iydea, an sudinly Eye feal lyk tings ar goen ta luuk uwep fer uss!”

    “Care to share?”

     “Wat inn da hel ar yew bablen abowet? Wat wuud Eye half tew shair?”

     “The thing about which you’re more optimistic?”

     “Owa, thaet? Eyela tel ya lator.”

 

 

     What they needed to do was to find a place to park their truck, for it served as their living quarters, their kitchen, and their entertainment center, which consisted of Jimmy 'clowning around' and subjecting Earle Edgar to his 'jokes', which time hadn’t improved upon. They had been parking on the street, but knew that sooner or later, probably sooner; the police would frown on that idea. The answer to their dilema walked through the door of Buzz’s Central one morning. They had gotten used to the depressive atmosphere of the tavern, and now were spending a lot of their free time; which was to say all their time, there. They were sitting at the bar, nursing their beers after their credit had been cut off because they had yet to pay, as they were once again broke, when a string-bean of a man sat down on the barstool next to them.

     “Excuse me, gentleman, but you weren’t saving this chair for someone were you?”

     “Aya, noe sur,” replied Earle Edgar, “hayv an seet.”

     “Thank you; the name’s Gordon Link,” and he shook both of their hands.

     “Pleezed ta mayak yer aqantance, Mistar Lynk, Eyema Jone Smyth, an mi assosiet here iz mi frend, Jimy.”

     “Hey, nice to meet you,” said Jimmy.

     Larry the bartender scowled at them and made his way down the bar. “Hello, welcome to Buzz’s Central, what can I get for you today?” he asked, woodenly.

     As Earle Edgar and Jimmy had learned, Larry worked most weekdays, opening up the place and bitching the whole day until it was closing time.

     “Oh, I’ll have a beer, and bring a couple for my new friends here.”

     “Owa, tank yew!” replied Earle Edgar, followed by a thank you from Jimmy.

     “What are you guys up to?” asked Link.

     “Oh, about 6-5 for me, and I’m not quite sure about Earle Edgar�"err�"John; I’d say about 5-7. Eh, ha, ha!”

     Geeze, Jimy, culd ya git ani moar pathetik?  thought Earle Edgar. “Owa, nuttin mutch, howwa boet yew?”

     “Oh, I’m getting away from the stress of recently being divorced. I do nothing all day but sit in my huge, empty house and feel sorry for myself.”

     “Owa, yer liven inn an hugge howes al a loan?” Earle Edgar started to sense an opportunity here.

     “Yeah, my wife took the 8 cars, the 3 boats, all of the servants, most of the paintings, and my heart with her when she left.”

     Earle Edgar suddenly thought of something (which was unusual), wayet juss an minut; Mistar Lynk? Da lass naym onn de cridet kard Eye swippd wuz Lynk. Eye wondar if...naww, wat ar da oweds?  “Ifn ya dowent miyand mi askin, wat hapuned tew yer eyx-wiyaf?”

“Oh, she moved to Ogden, Utah, and started a painting gallery with a 20-something b*****d with straight, white, real teeth!”

     He thought, Itts an smal werld, aftar awl!   “Eyema sory ta heer yer wumon bayled onn yew. Sew wat ar yew goen too dew noww?”

     “Oh, I’m probably going to sell the house, move to a smaller place, and concentrate on my company.”

     “Owe, ya owin yer owen biznus?”

     “Yeah, a bottle manufacturing business, why?”

     Hey; Earle Edgar thought quickly and said, “Eye wuz sorta wundren; sinse mee an Jimy ned an playc tew sta wyal ar binus tayks ofe, an yew ned rumayates, wat wuud yew saye to becomen finantial partnurs wyth uss, an wee culd hep yew paye da mortgidge?”

     “What business are you planning on opening?”

     Earle Edgar saw Jimmy flash him a questioning look. “Owa, wee wuz thinken awbowet openen ar owen bruin biznus.”

     “We were?” asked an incredulous Jimmy Reno.

     “Yaya, tink ubowet itt; weve bin lukin fer an wayy tew ern sum muny, ayand Mistar Lynk heer haz bowath da facultees, an the muny tew hep uss git the bytch ofe da growned.”

     Link looked at Earle Edgar, then Jimmy, then back to Earle Edgar, and asked, “Just how much money would you be putting into this would-be venture?”

     Jimmy looked at the ground as Earle Edgar began his answer. He knew that this was a crazy idea, as between them, Earle Edgar and he had about 2 bucks to conribute.

     “Weed bee cuntributen awl da laber, an the ideeas; inn efect, ar branes.”

     Link looked at both of then with a knowing look in his eyes, and Jimmy knew how ridiculous the idea sounded, and that it knew it was all over. Earle Edgar, your idea never had a chance!

     But Link answered, “Boys, I’ll grant you one thing; you’ve got incredibly big b****, asking for me to basically pay for everything. Having said that this idea of yours is ludicrist, I’m in; I like the way you boys think. Nothing half-a***d; in for a penny, in for a pound!”

     Earle Edgar gave an unhappy look, and replied, “Mistar Lynk, Eye tink dis ting iz goen tew cowest an lott moor dan dat!”

     “Eh, ha, ha, that’s what I like about you two; always kidding around!” replied Link.

     Earle Edgar started to respond, “Eyema not telin an jowek---”

     Jimmy quickly interjected, “Yeah, Mr. Link, that’s us, always clowning around. Eh, ha, ha!”

     “Wat da hel’s gowen on?”

 

     They had moved into Link’s huge home, and cleared a spot in the basement for brewing their beer. The beer would be called JimmyJohn, a combination of Jimmy’s real name, and Earle Edgar’s fake first name of John. They’d discretely asked around Buzz’s Cental, and found a guy to make Earle Edgar a fake identification. Earle Edgar was now officially known as 'John Smith', and Jimmy was still Jimmy Reno, because his name, unlike Earle Edgar’s, wasn’t know to the police.

     “Noww, Eye donut kno exactelly wat eyem duin. Eye gess weel juss brue sum upp, an if wee donut get siyak, itts okayy.”

     They brewed up their first batch, and Earle Edgar said, “Goe ahed, Jimy. Yew dew da honers.”

     “Why do I have to be first?”

     “Acaus Eye juss wante yew to hav da honer.”

     “Gee, thanks!” Jimmy watched Earle Edgar pour the first glass from the batch, and saw the mixture plop into the glass, and recoiled from it. “I don’t think it’s supposed to do that!” he exclaimed.

     “Butt Eye folowd da dyrectums Eye gott owata Duin Bruin Magezin. Juss givv itt an tri.”

     Jimmy hesitantly raised the glass to his lips and watched as a great big gelatenous blob fell into his mouth along with a trickle of liquid. He gagged and spit it out. “Ahhyuukk!” he exclaimed, and ran to a nearby sink to try and rinse the grotesque taste from his mouth.

     “Sew, howw iz itt?” asked Earle Edgar.

 

     Finally, they had come up with a brew that tasted okay; not great, but okay. Jimmy said,

     “Maybe we should keep working on the recipe? It’s barely drinkable.”

     “Noe, Eye tink da kiyand ov peepal woo wil bee buyen JimyJowan Beir wil ownenli kaer ifn da krap iz afordible, and gits sumwon drunke qickley. A*s weer gonna pryse itt weyal beelow da compatiton, anmak dabytch 12 purcent alcahaul bye volumm, Eyeya donut tink an lital laymer tast iz goin ta mater an hole lott, Weer gonna markit ar beir att da blew-colar werkar, woo iz onli gonna bee luken fer a escap frum dare bulsheit liyaf,” answered Earle Edgar.

“But don’t you care at all about putting out the best product possible?"

“Owa, duh owenly tink Eye givv an sheit ubowet iz da profet margerine!”

 

 

     Finally, they had brewed up enough and had loaded several cases into the bed of their pickup truck; that they would take around to different stores in an effort to get them to carry JimmyJohn. Jimmy had been overruled when he had argued,

     “Earle Edgar, what about a business licence?”

     “Wat da hel wuud wee ned an bizness licyenc fer? Itts juss an wayast ov muny; beesids, wee donut wayant da friken govarmint trine ta tel uss howw wee shud bee bruin ar bier.”

     “You’re wrong, Earle Edgar, you have to have a business licence.”

     “Buyelsheit”

 

 

     They pulled up in front of Madison’s Grocery Store, and Earle Edgar grabbed a bottle of JimmyJohn Beer and said, “Cowem onn, Jimy, an Eyel sho yew howw itts dun!”

     Jimmy shook his head and followed Earle Edgar inside. 'This is going to be a disaster!' Jimmy thought. Once inside, Earle Edgar went up to the nearest cashier and blurted,

     “Helow dare yung mann; tudayy iz da dayy dat yewell tayast purhapps da gratist bier yuve evar tastid!”

     “I’m sorry sir; all salesmen need to see the manager.”

     “Den wy amm Eye friken waystin mi tyme takin to yew den? Pleeze git mee da propar persen ta tawlk ta.”

     “John, there’s no need to be rude!”

     Earle Edgar looked around like he hadn’t heard.

     “John!”

     Still Earle Edgar was paying him no attention.

     “I said there’s no need to be rude, John!”

     At last Earle Edgar reacted, “Woo inn da hel ar yew tawlken too?”

     “I’m talking to you, John!”

     “Wel woo inn da hel is Joyan?”

     An exasperated Jimmy said, “Can I speak to you in private?”

     “Wel oakay, butt Eye donut unnerstand woo dis friken Johan iz.”

 

     Jimmy pulled him over where they were alone. “Don’t you remember, John is your assumed name.”

     “Speek Inglish; Eye kant folow yew. Asumd nam?”

     “Huh, sometimes I swear; you don’t want to use your real name, because there’s a warrant out for your arrest, so you decided to use John Smith.”

     “Owa yeha, Joyan Smiath.”

 

     They returned to the cashier, and Earle Edgar said, “Joyan, dats mi; Eye spacd owet fer an secend beecaze Eyema hyer dan a kyte; itts dis dam cuwuld medecene; Itt maks mi dat wayy. Pleez acept mi apoligys; dat dam cuwuld medecene maks mi sayy ruud tings ta peepal two.”

     The cashier gave him a funny look and spoke into the microphone attached to his registar, “I need the store manager at register 2, please.”

     Soon, a man in a business suit came up to the register and said, “I’m Will Fiver, the manager of this store. What can I do for you gentlemen?”

     Earle Edgar stood looking around stupidly. Jimmy nudged him, and Earle Edgar whirled around, “Wat da hel?”

     “Excuse us for a moment,” Jimmy told Fiver, and grabbed Earle Edgar by his collar and dragged him out of earshot.

     Jimmy hissed, “This is the manager!” “Eye kno hes da maniger; dew I luk stoopid oar sumthin?

     “He asked if he could help us.”

     “Noe, hees luken fer gentalmen.”

     “Right, we’re the gentlemen.”

     “Noe weir nott; owe, rite, da gentalmen!”

     They both quickly returned to where Will Fiver stood by register # 2.

     “Yeya, helo Mister Fibar, minaam iz Johan Smyth, and dis heer iz my pardnor, Jimy; Eyema sorie Eye didnut reealiz yew wer talkin ta mi. A*s Eye waz splanun too yer cashear dare, Eyema an littal gewffy beecaws Eyma takin sum kuwuld medecene dat reali kiks mi ayas! A*s Eyeya wuz starten ta xplane ta hym, Eye juss wantid yew ta tayst mabee da bess bier yewer evar goen ta tayst!”

     “So you’d like me to see if I’d consider stocking your beer?”

     “No, because we have already caught it. Eya, haw, haw!” piped in Jimmy.

     “Pardon me?"

     “Oh it was just a lame attempt at humor; see, you wouldn’t need to stalk it, because we’ve aready caught it!”

     Seeing nothing but a blank, non-understanding stare from Fiver, he quickly added, “Never mind!”

     “So anyway, I’ll try your beer; what is the name of your product?”

     “Producked?”

     “Yes, your beer?”

     “Owa, ar bier, rite. Itts cawled JimyJowan Bier.”

     “JimmyJohn Beer; is this some kind of practical joke? Don’t tell me I’m being set up for T.V?”

     “Noe, weer nott kiden. Da naam ov da bier iz reeli JimyJowan.”

     “Oh,” said an unconvinced Will Fiver, who kept looking around to see if he could spot a camara. “Well, let me have a taste.”

     Earle Edgar twisted off the top, and handed it to him. Fiver swirled the beer around the bottle, smelled it, and said,

     “It smells none-too-good”. Then he raised the glass to his lips. He gingerly tasted it, and gagged, “This is swill!”

     “Butt howw dos itt tayst?”

 

     After their one disasterous attempt to market JimmyJohn Beer without a license, they had decided forget the stores. Through some of Earle Edgar’s new aquantances at Buzz’s Cental, they had let it be known they had illegal beer for sale. Jimmy was relieved in a way; the lack of a business licence was going to catch up to them, despite Earle Edgar’s assurances to the contrary. Sure, they’d be running the risk of being arrested, but trying to market their beer without a business licence was foolhardy. They still had some cases in the bed of the truck, and they were on their way to meet a guy who Earle Edgar’s aquaintances said was interested in purchasing some. As they wound their way upwards toward the foothills of the Cascades, Jimmy spoke up,

     “It sure seems weird to me that we’re meeting this guy way out here; it makes me wonder?”

     “Wunder wat?”

     “It makes me wonder if this isn’t some kind of trap.”

     “Noe, da gui asserd mi dat itt wasntt.”

     “Oh, that makes me feel a lot better!”

     “Eyema glaad yew feal betor; ya kno Jimy, yewr two dam suspiseos!”

     “Are you sure this is the spot?” asked Jimmy; he expected at any moment to hear the wail of several police cars, as they swooped in to arrest them.

     “Yaya, Eyema suur.”

     After a few minutes, they saw a dustcloud thrown up by an approaching car. They had parked their truck about a ½ mile down a logging road, and to Jimmy’s dismay he saw they were trapped. If the approaching car proved to be a police car, there was nothing they could do about it. As he was thinking this, a 4X4 station wagon came around the corner. It had a homemade wooden camper on the back of what looked to be a crudely-cut pickup bed.

     “Cee Jimy; Eye toll yew dare wuz nuthin two bee wurryed abowt.”

     The truck/station wagon pulled alongside where they were parked, and a man dressed in a camouflage hunting vest came towards their truck.

     “Howdy, you must be John Smith. Pleased to meet you, I’m Barry-Jack White; my friends just call me Blackjack.”

     “Yeya Blakjakit, dats an sharep-luken truyk. Eye wood half nevur thot ofe makin a piykupp owet ov an staytion wagen.”

     “Well, the way we move around, I needed something to be ready to go immediately; plus, a lot of the places we travel need a 4X4. As all I had was a 4x4 station wagon to start with; and with the outrageous cost of a new 4X4, I decided to customize my station wagon to fit this camper on it. For a homemade deal, she sure turned out nice!”

     Jimmy looked at the jagged-cut bed, and asked, “Why couldn’t you’ve just bought a used 4-wheel drive?”

     “Because I would have needed to qualify for credit, and that’s how they track you.”

     “Who?”

     “Big Brother, that’s who!” As he was saying this, the sound of a faraway helicopter was heard. “Get down, they found us; I don’t know how, but they did, and here I thought I was being so careful!” As the helicopter drew closer and passed overhead, they could make out a television station’s logo on the side, Jimmy helped Blackjack up from the ground where he’d thrown himself, and said,

     “So let me see if I’ve got this; you’re worried about the government tracking your every move, so you’re afraid of everything used by most citizens to make their lives easier?”

     “Yep, most people blindly trust the government, and one of these days, look out!”

     Jimmy laughed to himself. This dude was paranoid. “I guess I never realized.”

     “Yeah, most people don’t, and that’s why some people who are aware of the grave danger, and myself, formed The Citizens Watch Out for Big Brother Network. True, we only have 27 members nationwide so far, but when the black helicopters start flying over our heads, with the intent to suppress our rights as free men, that number’s sure to rise.”

     Whew, what a moron! As Jimmy was trying to think of a way to respond to the guy, Earle Edgar cut in,

     “Wel, wee shud git an muuv onn an cunduct ar biznus, yew kno, afour da blayk helacoppers fli ovar.”

     “Certainly, we have more important matters to take care of than individual liberty; beer!”

     “Mistar Blakjackit, howw mutch bier ar yew intrasted inn byein?”

     “Well, how much do you got?”

     “Yew wante two by awl ov itt?”

     “Yes, we’ll buy as much as you’ve got. See, we right now are living at an undisclosed location somewhere in these woods; or maybe not in these woods, I won’t confirm or deny the exact location, and we need a lot of beer!”

     Gee, since we’re meeting you out here in the woods, I don’t know, but it’s a pretty good bet it’s somewhere nearby, thought Jimmy.

     “Once a month,” continued Blackjack, “someone has to go into a nearby town and load up on essentials.”

     “Ayand bier iz esential?”

     “Yes, when you spend most of your time fighting against an evil government, a little relaxation is critical.”

     One can never tell when the government might wake up, and realize that 27 hard-drinking super-patriots are an immanent threat to their very survival, thought Jimmy.

     “Wel, lett mi cee, wee half eighti moor casis inn adition tew dese twenti cayases; dat wyl sett ya bak abowet, letts cee, dats 4 buks an cays, tiyams 100 casis, dat werks owet to abowt sixe hyundred sevuntie-fore dolers an thirety-thre sents; an ife yew lik da bier and da pryc, ayand ifn yewd lik uss ta suppli yall wid bier purmenantley, wee myte bee abal ta werk sumpin owet. Owev cores, wee owly haav dees twenatee cayses wid uss, sew weel drawep owef sum moor lator.”

     “Well, we move our campsight very often when we feel the government is just about on us, but I’ll tell you what; I’ll come here in a couple of days to pick up the rest, then I’ll come back to this same spot once every 2 weeks, and pick up the shipment. How’s that work for you?”

     “Eye tink dat wil bee benofishal ta bowth syds.”

 

     And so, JimmyJohn beer became the official beer of The Citizens Watch-Out for Big Brother Network. It was amazing to Jimmy that 27 people could snorkle so much beer. It was amazing to him that the survivalist freaks had bought every drop they could produce, without even tasting it first, but he guessed that the cheap price was the main consideration of TCWOFBBN. Every couple of weeks, they would load up the truck with another batch of JimmyJohn beer and they’d drive up into the woods and meet Blackjack at the same place down the logging road. One day, they arrived for their meeting with Blackjack to give him the latest 2-week supply, stepped out of their truck to meet him, and the blast of a shotgun was heard, followed by laughter, and then a voice,

     “Yeah, partaaa; whoo! Boy, Joe, you sure blew the s**t out of him. Scratch 1 squirrel; Whoo!”

     A rather-inebriated, loud voice replied, “Did you see that b*****d fly? I must have blown him 25 feet! Now that’s a flying squirrel!”

     “Yeah; hey Joe? What’s say we return to base camp and get us another couple of JimmyJohn’s? It may taste like crap, but whoo, baby, does it ever kick your a**!”

     “We ought to keep it down a little; Blackjack wants everone to think we’ve moved the camp; even though we’ve never moved.”

     “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

     Then the conversation faded as the two men headed back to their camp. Blackjack sheepishly turned to Earle Edgar and Jimmy and said,

     “Damn, I guess our secret’s out. I guess we have to trust you guys to keep quiet about the location of our secret base, from which we’ll launch out covert military offensive to wrest control of the government.”

     Jimmy looked at the future wanna-be president and shivered. If this moron was the future of the United States, he’d be moving to Canada!

     My fellow Americans, this is your president speaking. I promise to keep you safe, with my handy double-pump 12 guage, have no fear, Blackjack is here!'

     “Owa, yew kan cownt onn uss ta keap yer secrit saaf,” replied Earle Edgar.

     “Thanks John.”

     Once again, Earle Edgar looked around. “Woo ar ya takin two? Weer da owenly 3 peeple heer. Eye howp yer nott goen crazi an seun peepal.”

     Blackjack got an incredulous look on his face, as Jimmy quickly interjected,

     “John, that’s you, remember?”

     “Owa, ov corse; Eye gess dat cuwuld medecene iz stil afectin mi brane. Aniwayy, lik Eye wuz sayen befour, yew donut haav ta werry abowt uss narken.”

 

     For several months, the arrangement with The Citizens Watch-Out for Big Brother went on without a hitch, until one day, Blackjack came to Earle Edgar and announced,

     “John, I don’t now how to say this, but we won’t be able to buy JimmyJohn Beer any longer.”

     “Wi da hel nott? Ar yew acuelly moven?”

     “No, some of our members got tired of waiting for the government to crack down on our rights and quit. So we have no choice but to disband The Citizens Watch-Out for Big Brother Network. Mark my words, when government storm troopers start breaking down the front doors of American citizens, the cry will go up, “Who’s going to protect us?” And we won’t be there!”

     While trying to suppress the laughter that was threatening to burst out, Jimmy had to turn away, so Blackjack wouldn’t see the smile on his face. This idiot’s serious!

     “Owa, dats two badd. Wat abowt da bier heer?” and Earle Edgar pointed to the full truck.

     “I’m sorry John, I don’t have the money to pay you.”

     Earle Edgar gave Blackjack a disgusted look and said, “Wat? Whi yew friken paanoyd mothur-fu---”

     Jimmy quickly inturrupted with, “What John means to say is it’s unfortunate that our partnership is ended. Thank you for your business; and good luck to you guys in the future.”

     “Dats not what Eyema sayen atoll. Eyma sayen yew freek�"”

     Jimmy inturrupted again, and grabbed Earle Edgar forcefully by the elbow and hauled him back towards their truck. As they were were walking back to their truck, Earle Edgar hotly said,

     “Noww wayet juss an minet; Eyma nott thruw telen dis bayster---”

 

     They had driven back to the house; despair washing over them. They each wondered what they were going to do now. Earle at last broke the gloomy silence.

     “Eyema juss wundren wat we ar appost two dew noww?”

     Jimmy replied dejectedly, “I’m sure I don’t know.”

     “Wel, Eyema glad won ov uss iz sur abowt sumpen; de owenly ting Eyema surr ov iz weave owely gott an feew buks leyft, an den wee ar brok. Saa, dat remineds mi; Eyeya betor tak wat littal caysh wee hav lefte, an ruen ta da baynk an deeposet inn ar acowent.”

     “Say, that’s a good idea!”

     “Owakay, dats an guud iyadia!”

     “See, you are learning, I’ll make a stand-up out of you yet!”

 

 

     So Earle Edgar took the $10,000 out of the coffee can under his bed, and put it in his briefcase. Then he went out to the sidewalk; their bank was less than a mile away, so there was no need to take the truck; and besides, they needed to watch the money, and not wasting it on gas was a good way to start. He started walking towards the bank, his mind on what they should do now. He was concentrating so heavily on that, he failed to hear the pounding of approaching footsteps running up behind him; suddenly the briefcase with all their money in it was snatched from his hand, and a startled Earle Edgar watched it dissappearing, in the arms of a thief.

     “Cowem bak heer, yew robben basterd!” he yelled at the thief’s back, as he took the corner ahead at full speed; then was gone. “Sum ov an bich!” Earle Edgar screamed.

 

     With their money gone, it was more urgent now for Earle Edgar and Jimmy to find a way to sell JimmyJohn Beer, but they couldn’t agree on how. Jimmy wanted to apply for a business license and make everything legal. Earle Edgar, on the other hand, wanted to bypass the government at all costs. After Jimmy had made his case for the license, Earle Edgar had replied,

     “Theyats won wayy, ore wee culd sa, “skrewe da guvurnmint”, an fynd sumwon eyelse ta bye ar bier. Eye tink Eyeva com upp wyth an uni, uni, gud ideya fer nott havin da guvurnmint stiken dare friken nowes inn ar biznus. Howw a bowet selen JimyJohan direklie two da peepal? Mi ideya iz two git an kart ta holed iyc-cowld JimyJoyan Bier an goe dowen ta da beech oar sumware hott lik dat, an cell da friken beir rite owet ov da dam kart; ta hel wyth an biznus lysents.”

     Needless to say, Jimmy had lost the aurgument, and so they had purchased an old pop cart, fixed it up as best as they could, and Earle Edgar had gone down to the beach to hawk their wares. Jimmy was totally against their trying to circumvent the government and sell illegally. Earle though, thought his idea was perfect. To make Jimmy cringe even more, Earle Edgar had made a crude homemade sign which proclaimed: “Iyc-cowld JimyJohan Bier for Sayal. Wee Donut Kard; Won Bottal. Won Doler!” Jimmy had made one final attempt to talk Earle Edgar out of trying his idea, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Earle Edgar had donned his selling outfit, or at least his idea of a selling outfit, slicked back his hair, and gone to the beach. Now he wheeled the cart full of beer along the path that ran in front of the beach.

     Boye, iz itt evur howt owetheer, he thought. The cart was jostled to and fro on the rough walkway. He finally pulled the cart off the path, and shouted,

     “Iyc-cowld bier heer; git yer ice-cowld bier heer!”

     Immediately, the cart was surrounded by eager young people, curious about the unusual event. None of them had ever seen a beer vendor, apart from at sports stadiums, selling alcohol at a place as public as a public beach. When they saw the “Wee Donut Kard” sign, they all crowded around the cart, yelling,

     “I’ll take one!” “One beer here!” and, “How fricking cool is this?”

     Earle Edgar saw and heard the reaction, and was very pleased. His idea was working; he felt vindicated. He opened the cooler and pulled out several beers. As he reached out to take the first thirsty teens’ money, one of the beer bottles popped its cap high into the air, and foam shot from the top, spilled down the outside, and dripped down to the cart until it made a pool around the base.

     Sum ov an bich; theya mus haav gott bumpid arownd prety gud; an dis heet kant bee vary gud fer dem!   As he was thinking this, another, then another did the same thing, until every one of the beers had popped its top, and a small river of beer poured over the edge of the cart and fell foaming to the ground, where it seeped into the dirt and was gone; the crowd of thirsty teens disappeared almost as fast as the liquid. Soon he was standing all alone with his used ex-pop cart; and the smell of the wasted beers rose from the dirt.

     Sum ov an bich!