Hey guys I'm going to start a random story here almost by free association--where I leave off somebody can take it up, and tell their peace. Then the next guy can do his take--let's see where it goes!
Bubba stared into the mist, scratching his head--a curious lamp was swaying back and forth in the air just off what he could derive through the heavy fog as shore, though he didn't remember that peninsula being there before. He looked down at his short, wirey companion.
"Rebob, yoo rekkin thet thar iz Ol' MacMiller's place? Him sed hezagonna leev ussun a liet so weezun knowz hwar ta pawrk dis thang." (Rebob, do you think that place over there is possibly where Mr. McMillin told us to go? He said he'd leave a lamp so we would know where to dock.)
"I dunnaw, Bubba--iffinif Ahmanot uh eejut, I tank I rekkerlekt eet bein farder downerds dan dis." (Well, I don't know, Bubba--if I'm not mistaken, I believe I remember his house being a little further downstream than this.)
"Wellayinaw, inda fawg liek diz ya donna be-a-tankin HWAR yi at." (Well, you know, it's easy to get lost in a mist like this.)
"Yup dattun wat Ah wazatankin too, Bubba...<snort> AWWWYAT...weezun best chekka it out reel slinkinlike cuza da fixxun we in, butta wezzun donnawanna git shawt, yinaw." (Yes, that's a good point, Bubba...<hiccup> oh, excuse me...I think we be better dock and take a look around the place, because we don't want to miss it, in the situation we're in. Be on your guard, though--if it's not the right place, the owner could mistake us for thieves, you know.)
Bubba knodded at Rebob with approval, although the expression on his face was unseen in the thick fog, and Rebob adjusted the keel of the pontoon rig (well, actually a small wooden building placed on 9 empty barrels with a motor attached to the back), and they swung past the eddy of the penensula to shore. Bubba tied the craft to a nearby tree, and they both went into the cab to pick up what was needed.
"Yooun rekkin we needata brang tha hwoopinkillerz?" (Do you think we'll need to take our firearms with us?) Rebob said with a bit of anxiety in his voice.
"Aw, MacMiller'z juz drunk offun hiz tail aiggin. Weeanebber be too shure yinno <hock, spit> Sides, weeun needadem innacase weezunz git inna hoopwilly." (Oh, Mr. McMillin is probably just seeing things again. But we better stay on the safe side, you know--he might be telling the truth. Besides, we might need them if we get in a firefight with our neighbors.) Bubba replied.
Softly shutting the door to the cab and padlocking it, they quietly stepped off onto the riverbank, and slowly crept their way inland, trying to keep from getting stuck in unseen bobwire fences.
Bubba stared into the mist, scratching his head--a curious lamp was swaying back and forth in the air just off what he could derive through the heavy fog as shore, though he didn't remember that peninsula being there before. He looked down at his short, wirey companion.
"Rebob, yoo rekkin thet thar iz Ol' MacMiller's place? Him sed hezagonna leev ussun a liet so weezun knowz hwar ta pawrk dis thang." (Rebob, do you think that place over there is possibly where Mr. McMillin told us to go? He said he'd leave a lamp so we would know where to dock.)
"I dunnaw, Bubba--iffinif Ahmanot uh eejut, I tank I rekkerlekt eet bein farder downerds dan dis." (Well, I don't know, Bubba--if I'm not mistaken, I believe I remember his house being a little further downstream than this.)
"Wellayinaw, inda fawg liek diz ya donna be-a-tankin HWAR yi at." (Well, you know, it's easy to get lost in a mist like this.)
"Yup dattun wat Ah wazatankin too, Bubba...<snort> AWWWYAT...weezun best chekka it out reel slinkinlike cuza da fixxun we in, butta wezzun donnawanna git shawt, yinaw." (Yes, that's a good point, Bubba...<hiccup> oh, excuse me...I think we be better dock and take a look around the place, because we don't want to miss it, in the situation we're in. Be on your guard, though--if it's not the right place, the owner could mistake us for thieves, you know.)
Bubba knodded at Rebob with approval, although the expression on his face was unseen in the thick fog, and Rebob adjusted the keel of the pontoon rig (well, actually a small wooden building placed on 9 empty barrels with a motor attached to the back), and they swung past the eddy of the penensula to shore. Bubba tied the craft to a nearby tree, and they both went into the cab to pick up what was needed.
"Yooun rekkin we needata brang tha hwoopinkillerz?" (Do you think we'll need to take our firearms with us?) Rebob said with a bit of anxiety in his voice.
"Aw, MacMiller'z juz drunk offun hiz tail aiggin. Weeanebber be too shure yinno <hock, spit> Sides, weeun needadem innacase weezunz git inna hoopwilly." (Oh, Mr. McMillin is probably just seeing things again. But we better stay on the safe side, you know--he might be telling the truth. Besides, we might need them if we get in a firefight with our neighbors.) Bubba replied.
Softly shutting the door to the cab and padlocking it, they quietly stepped off onto the riverbank, and slowly crept their way inland, trying to keep from getting stuck in unseen bobwire fences.
