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Tuesday, June 14, 2005 

The true aligator story

Chuck and Snagley go fishing

As you know Chuck has started a story regarding the alligator incident. As usual he tends to confuse many issues. I have decided to post a companion article clearing up some of the confusion. It begins thusly.

Chuck called my up crying again. He is divorcing his wife. He needs to talk to someone and I volunteer. I suggest a fishing trip. I go to pick him up at his house. The day proceeds thusly…

Me: Hi Chuck

Chuck: Hello Mr. Snagley

Me: You are not going fishing with me wearing that. (He is wearing a pair of tennis shorts and a hat with an umbrella built in, and no shirt.) Go inside and come out dressed like a man.
10 minutes pass
He returns shortly wearing blue jeans and a pink polo shirt.
5 minutes pass
He returns shortly wearing blue jeans and a Charles in charge t-shirt.
5 minutes pass
He returns shortly wearing blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

Me: ok lets go.

I take him to the Alabama River near Selma, Alabama. He blubbers the entire way. He is dipping Copenhagen snuff. Chucks reaches into his hip pocket and gets his can as he taps the can on my dashboard denting the wood he says.
I ain’t been fishing in years.
He then runs his hand down the back of his pants scratching some unnatural itch. He then dips ¼ can of Copenhagen snuff with the same hand, loading his lip way beyond capacity. He is spitting the tobacco juice into an empty Zima bottle.

He usually disgusts me. But for some reason I feel too sorry for him to blast him about his unhygienic ways.
Chuck is passing gas as normal. He is lactose intolerant. But he loves to eat cottage cheese you can see some cottage cheese on the stubble of beard from his breakfast this morning. His condition produces an aroma that would give a buzzard the dry heaves

As I roll down the window in an attempt to stay lucid behind the wheel I say.
Chuck (gag gag) it is all going to work out (wretch). FA will foul something up. She always does (wheeze) and you will come out of this thing smelling like a dead rat. (Which will be a great improvement).

We finally arrive at the river. We stop at my favorite bait shop to rent a boat. As usual Chuck brought no cash. I pay for his fishing license and get us both a sack lunch. I rent the boat and prepare to go fishing.
Chuck starts begging for beer. I get him two quart bottles of his favorite beer
“Milwaukee’s best” and we shove off.
Chuck eats my lunch while I am navigating down river to the first fishing hole. I ask him how his children are handling all this. He spits Oreo cookies into his beer as he explains the latest insanity that they are all being subjected too.
Then ,as usual, he falls out of the boat.

To be continued.

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