Tom Sawyer?....you betcha

Some times I repeat myself. You know, tell the same story more than one time.

When I was in school....hahahaha....don't say it, one student would tell a short story to another. Then that student would tell it to another. Little details were added at each telling. By the end of the day, that story made it around the entire class. It had changed into a first class fictional novel. The original story was still intact.

So, when ya read one my stories, you will notice I have added a few exotic spices to enhance the flavor. The end product is a delightful pot of flavorful stew soup with all the original ingredients.

Years ago I could sit down and rip out a story to the nieces, nephews, neighbor kids and their parents. "Brother Rabbit" was a favorite. Make it up as the story progressed. I was on government issued drugs at the time, so words came easy. Now that I am no longer on government drugs, I have to rely on writing to tell a story. Samuel Langhorne Clemens (Mark Twain) was that way ya know. But unlike the old Billy Bob, he was a standup orater.

It was Mark Twain that inspired me to tell stories. Take a simple experience an' turn it into a rip snort'n adventure. Spice things up ya know. Not the made up stories like "Brother Rabbit", but the real thing...."The Adventures of Billy Bob".  In my short 71 years, I have learned that YES, you can be Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. Only problem is, some that stuff them boys did, is illegal now days. You can go to jail ya know. Exorcisms...stuff like that.

My next trip in that little 22 foots sail'n boat occurred on a busy week day in Port Aransas. Holiday weekend I'm think'n....or something like that. Ferry boats were busy transport'n cars from the mainland to the island.

I fired up that little kicker motor an' headed out into the Corpus Christi ship channel. If'n ya ever been to Port A, ya know there ain't no other choice. Look'n both ways for big ol' cargo carry'n ships, I raised the mainsail an' put out the jib. Set course towards the Port Aransas ferry cross'n. I'm go'n a hunnert mile a hour by God.....Yeee haw. 

By now, I had earned my "white" capt's cap for being capable of return'n safely back to dock 10 times in a row without fall'n overboard or crash'n headlong into another boat. I sit back in the cockpit with my chest all pooched out, not a care in the world.....not worry bout a thing. There ain't nuttin but the sound of rush'n water as we skim through moderately choppy seas. Dolphins swim'n long side me, I'm in hog heaven. I'm a "white cap" sail'n boat capt'n.

I round the corner where the ship channel makes a hard left turn. Almost turn over go'n so fast. Bout a quarter mile ahead I see ferry boats scoot'n across my intended course. I got to go through them to get to my destination. This is one case where a sail'n boat has right of way over great big ol' powered vessels. ( It should be noted that the vessel with lesser maneuverability has 'right of way' ) I'm under sail an' clos'n ground fast. "Git the hell out my way....here come the Billy Bob".

WTH (what the hell), the freak'n wind die.....pooof, just like that. Only a slight whisper out of the southeast. I'm sit'n dead in the water, drift'n towards the north ferry land'n. OH shit, what I do now? Well hell, I got me a "white" capt'ns cap, what could go wrong?

Well let me tell ya what could go wrong. Ya could drift up against the bow of that loaded ferry boat for one thing. Then ya could snag up that main sail try'n your damnest to get it down. And then there's always the slim possibility that that 5hp kicker motor won't start. What do ya suppose happen to "white capt'ns hat Billy Bob"??? That's right, all of the above. I'm try'n my damnest not to get hung up under the bow of that ferry boat....what by this time, has bout a hunnert people stand'n round watch'n me with "shit eat'n" grins" on their faces....tak'n pictures, laugh'n an' stuff like that. The ferry boat captain look'n down at me with disgust in his eyes.....wonder'n "what the hell is this fool guy do'n"?

With the sails finally stowed all over the decks of that little 22 foots sail'n boat, I attempt to fire up the kicker motor an' get the hell out of there. I pulls on that starter rope till my arm was bout to fall off.....it don't start. "Billy Bob, turn the gas on". That exactly what I do, turn the damn gas on. Little kicker motor fire right up. Back up out of there lickity split an' head for a hole to crawl into. Was I embarrassed? You can bet yer bippy I was....beet red. What more do ya suppose could happen now after that fiasco?

Motor'n out of that catastrophic event in my quest to regain my composure, calm down a bit an' quit shak'n from head to toe, here come a big ol' gust of wind. What the hell??? Where was this wind when I needed it? "Oh my God....three fog horn blasts". Pee my pants. An' I ain't got no sails up....an' that kicker motor is spit'n an' sputter'n. "White capt'ns hat Billy Bob.....you earned it....think". I calms down, that ship is bout 500 yards up the channel headed in my direction.....do'n a hunnert mile a hour I betcha. Up goes the main sail without a hitch (snag), ship passes me by an' I'm headed my ass back to dock. Tie this sucker up an' ain't never gonna sail no more.
But I did......more sail'n stories to come.