By Mike Colin
This year I’ve decided to find out why Santa Claus quit bringing me presents when I was twelve years old. That year all I got for Christmas was a pair of socks. My dad wasn’t working at the time and my parents told me that a pair of socks was all they could afford. “Besides,” my parents said, “you need socks because the sock monster keeps gobbling up your socks in the cloths dryer.” I asked them why I did not get any presents from Santa and they both said I was too old to believe in Santa anymore.
That did not make since to me. If Santa never existed why would everyone tell kids that Santa was going to bring them presents if they were good? Why lie about such a thing as the existence of the jolly old elf? I was traumatized for years.
It has been more than ten years and I still believe in Santa and I am going to find out why he quit coming to my house and giving me presents. I know my brothers are both evil and never deserved any presents. I could see why Santa finally wised up and quit bringing them stuff but, I was different. I was always really good and I never lost faith in his existence.
This year I read somewhere that Santa has a secret toy factory about 50 miles from here in a small town called Mancelona. It seems he purchased an old factory that used to make cheese and now he makes lots of old fashioned, environmentally correct toys. People say that Santa set up a factory in Mancelona because it is beautiful here in Northern Michigan and a great place to live. Consequently, Santa can pay his elves a lot less money if they work here versus working up above the artic circle. Here we have low pay but a view of the bay. At the North Pole you get a bigger slice of the pie but, if you go outside you die.
Today I drove over to Mancelona and stopped into their old cheese factory. The windows are all boarded up but, I went up to a door on the side of the building and wrapped on it. Suddenly, a shaggy elf appeared in the doorway. It took me a couple of minutes but then, I recognized the little guy was area resident and celebrity the Easter Bunny. He stood in the doorway holding a wrapped package with a bow on it. “Hi,” he said, “I’m not allowed to let anyone in but, Santa wanted me to give you this Christmas gift.” Mr. Bunny handed me the gift and then shut the door.
So there I stood with the package in my hand. I went back home and decided to open it even though it is not Christmas yet. I was surprised to find a pair of socks inside with a note from Santa. The note said:
“I’m sorry I missed getting this present to you when you were twelve years old. Twelve is the normal cut off but our computers were down that year and we thought you were 13 at the time. Again, I’m sorry we missed you on the last Christmas that you qualified for a gift from Santa. Please accept this gift I’ve been holding for you all these years. I know how poor your family is so I thought I would get you something that would help keep your little toes from getting frost bite during the long Michigan Winters.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus”
I have been elated all the rest of the day. Santa really did care about me and it was just a problem with his computer that caused him to not deliver my present. From now on I will always give a strong testimony to the existence of Santa. The only question I have left is why Michael Moore was over in Santa’s workshop and are there more celebrities in the old cheese factory? I wonder.
Showing posts with label CHRISTMAS SATIRE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CHRISTMAS SATIRE. Show all posts
Monday, December 18, 2023
Friday, July 2, 2021
NOSE SLUGS ENTER BRAINS IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN
THE BED BUG NOSE SLUG
By Tim Colin
Many people with cabins in the deep woods of Northern Michigan have been complaining about being attacked by a type of nose slug that lives in the bedding like a bed bug. But, unlike a bed bug the nose slug slithers up into your nose, nourishes itself on your nose hairs and then continues up into the brain cavity where it lays its eggs and then dies. For the next six weeks the victim will have to go everywhere without a single nose hair hanging down below the nostril.
Drake Nostrello was one such victim. “You cannot believe how embarrassing it is to walk around with no nose hairs. It would be less noticeable if I had had my eyebrows eaten off then my nose hairs. Without nose hairs my nostrils are always so dry that they constantly itch. You can tell when someone has been attacked by a nose slug because they constantly have their fingers up their nose scratching away at that incredibly dry nostril skin.”
Diane Nosette, another victim of the nose slug said that “The worst thing about the nose slug is when the eggs they lay in your brain hatch out. The eggs turn into little butterfly that fly out of your nose at the oddest times. Sometimes they fly out during dinner which makes anyone you’re having dinner with quite uncomfortable. No one ever says anything because I guess they don’t want to embarrass me by pointing out that little butterflies are coming out of my nose. I recently got married and my honeymoon was a complete disaster. My husband still won’t give my nose a kiss because he’s afraid a bunch of bugs will fly out at him."
There has never been an outbreak of nose slugs in Michigan that was this serious. Most experts believe the nose slugs entered this country from Canada where nose slugs are very common. It seems the first settlers in Canada did not have anything to trim their nose hairs so they imported the first nose slugs to this continent. The Canadians also found that nose slugs were very good to eat and worked well as a sausage casing. Nose slugs by themselves are said to taste best with mayonnaise although French Canadians prefer nose slugs with cheese sauce and light vinaigrette.
By Tim Colin
Many people with cabins in the deep woods of Northern Michigan have been complaining about being attacked by a type of nose slug that lives in the bedding like a bed bug. But, unlike a bed bug the nose slug slithers up into your nose, nourishes itself on your nose hairs and then continues up into the brain cavity where it lays its eggs and then dies. For the next six weeks the victim will have to go everywhere without a single nose hair hanging down below the nostril.
Drake Nostrello was one such victim. “You cannot believe how embarrassing it is to walk around with no nose hairs. It would be less noticeable if I had had my eyebrows eaten off then my nose hairs. Without nose hairs my nostrils are always so dry that they constantly itch. You can tell when someone has been attacked by a nose slug because they constantly have their fingers up their nose scratching away at that incredibly dry nostril skin.”
Diane Nosette, another victim of the nose slug said that “The worst thing about the nose slug is when the eggs they lay in your brain hatch out. The eggs turn into little butterfly that fly out of your nose at the oddest times. Sometimes they fly out during dinner which makes anyone you’re having dinner with quite uncomfortable. No one ever says anything because I guess they don’t want to embarrass me by pointing out that little butterflies are coming out of my nose. I recently got married and my honeymoon was a complete disaster. My husband still won’t give my nose a kiss because he’s afraid a bunch of bugs will fly out at him."
There has never been an outbreak of nose slugs in Michigan that was this serious. Most experts believe the nose slugs entered this country from Canada where nose slugs are very common. It seems the first settlers in Canada did not have anything to trim their nose hairs so they imported the first nose slugs to this continent. The Canadians also found that nose slugs were very good to eat and worked well as a sausage casing. Nose slugs by themselves are said to taste best with mayonnaise although French Canadians prefer nose slugs with cheese sauce and light vinaigrette.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
HOW THE FRANKENMOOSE MONSTER SAVED CHRISTMAS
By Bob White
I have been following the legendary Frankenmoose, the one created by Dr. Stein Franken currently of Suttons Bay Michigan and formerly of Frankenmuth Michigan. It is said that Dr. Franken created his creature after a circus truck hit a moose just outside of Frankenmuth Michigan. The circus truck had a human driver and a full-grown Siberian tiger in the back. Dr. Franken could only find enough living tissue from the three victims to put together a single creature. The creature was part tiger, part moose and, part human. Although there are, other creatures called Frankenmoose this creature was in part named after its creator, Dr. Stein Franken.
Because Dr. Franken had created this monster in an area not zoned for creating monsters, he had to keep its existence a secret. Dr. Franken and his family nursed the creature back to health and the Frankenmoose eventually became one of the family. Everything went well until the Frankenmoose was burned on the behind by the family bratwurst grill. The fire and the burning sensation it caused, seemed to make the creature go mad. It went on a rampage of destruction all across the state. Finally, the Men in Dark Suits (MIDS) were able to trap the beast and send it off to a secret underground military base located beneath the sand dunes in Leelanau County Michigan.
The Frankenmoose had the wiles of a tiger, the intelligence of a human and the strength of a moose so; it was not long before the creature escaped the maximum-security base. After his escape, the Frankenmoose knew he would have to find work. He read the local papers and found an advertisement for a four-legged animal that could work hauling logs for an environmentally friendly logging company. It seems the company had a horse but the horse became old and had to be retired to the Grand Rapids Glue Factory and Retirement Home for Horses.
The Frankenmoose easily convinced the owners of the lumber company that he would be an effective animal employee who could carry several times his weight up a steep hill. On the day before Christmas, there was a terrible winter storm. The Frankenmoose was happily hauling large red pine logs up hill to an awaiting truck when suddenly a snowmobile smashed into the truck and an old white bearded man went flying through the air and landed on top of the left antler of the Frankenmoose. “Ouch,” went the old man as he rolled off the antler of the Frankenmoose and feel into the hard packed snow.
The truck driver, who was also the owner of the lumber company, jumped out of his truck cab and ran over to where the old man laid. “Are you hurt old timer?” the lumberjack asked.
“I’m fine,” the old man replied, “but, I’ve got to get to the toy factory in Mancelona and pick up some toys and take them to the orphanage in Kalkaska. I make this trip every year.”
The old man struggled to his feet, got on top of his snowmobile, and tried to start it. The engine would not even turn over. “Phooey Sticks,” the old man cursed, “I’m not going no where with this machine.”
The Monster had been listening to every word and had an idea. The great beast suddenly started burping and snorting in what seemed to be very chaotic patterns. Nonetheless, the lumberjack and the hold man listened intently. “The creature is signaling in Morris code!” exclaimed the old man.
“I know,” retorted the truck driver, “this creature is part human and the human part was in the navy just like I was. Morris code is how the creature communicates. I think he is saying that he will pull you and your snowmobile to the toy factory and back to the orphanage in Kalkaska.”
With the help of the lumberjack, the Frankenmoose was soon harnessed up to the snowmobile and running along the highway on his way to the little town of Mancelona. It was not more than an hour before the colored Christmas lights of Mancelona could be seen flickering in the distance. Then, just about a mile before the Frankenmoose got to town; a large ogre stepped out onto the snowmobile trail and blocked the only passage to town. The Frankenmoose stopped. “Oh no,” said the old man to the moose. “It is the nasty Pinecone Ogre. He eats pinecones all day and then his stomach gets so upset that he becomes mean and tries to ruin everyone’s day.”
The Frankenmoose was undaunted. He simply bent his head down and hurled himself with the snowmobile in tow, directly toward the Ogre. The Ogre would not move but simply growled and howled at the oncoming monster. The bad natured Ogre was no match for the Frankenmoose for the big rack of the monster caught up the Ogre and the Ogre was soon flying high to the other side of the county.
The Frankenmoose and the old man were soon sledding through the Christmas decorated village of Mancelona. Colored lights and ding-dong bells were all along both sides of the street. When they came up to an old abandoned and boarded up cheese factory, the old man said ‘Whoa,’ and the Frankenmoose came to a stop. The old man whistled and an overhead garage door at one end of the building slid up and the Frankenmoose hauled the old man and his busted sled inside. Inside the old building was a well-lit modern toy factory with hundreds of tiny persons dressed up like Christmas elves, working diligently packaging and wrapping thousands of toys.
The Frankenmoose was so captivated by the toy factory that he could not grunt or belch out a single word. In the mean time, the old man had disappeared into an office and reappeared dressed as Santa Claus. “Ho, Ho, Ho,” said the old man. “I bet you are wondering what is going on my monster friend,” the old man said to the Frankenmoose. “You’ve probably guessed that I am really Santa but, no doubt you are wondering why I don’t have my regular sleigh and reindeer and also why am I making toys down here in Northern Michigan? Well, I do not have my reindeer here because so many people shoot deer for food here in Northern Michigan so, I left my friends down state where they would not be injured. I set up a factory here because elves are willing to work more cheaply here in Mancelona then they are up in the Artic Circle. It is nice here with all the lakes, beaches, and fun things to do. In addition, by saving money on wages I can put more money into making toys for the little girls and boys.
The Frankenmoose was glad he had helped the old man and was happier still when they delivered the toys to the orphanage and the monster saw the happy faces of the little boys and girls. The Frankenmoose had made a friend in old Santa Claus and had helped bring a little joy into the lives of orphans. The Frankenmoose had saved Christmas for all the little children at the orphanage. He did not feel like a monster that night but instead, felt like a hero and even a little bit human.
I have been following the legendary Frankenmoose, the one created by Dr. Stein Franken currently of Suttons Bay Michigan and formerly of Frankenmuth Michigan. It is said that Dr. Franken created his creature after a circus truck hit a moose just outside of Frankenmuth Michigan. The circus truck had a human driver and a full-grown Siberian tiger in the back. Dr. Franken could only find enough living tissue from the three victims to put together a single creature. The creature was part tiger, part moose and, part human. Although there are, other creatures called Frankenmoose this creature was in part named after its creator, Dr. Stein Franken.
Because Dr. Franken had created this monster in an area not zoned for creating monsters, he had to keep its existence a secret. Dr. Franken and his family nursed the creature back to health and the Frankenmoose eventually became one of the family. Everything went well until the Frankenmoose was burned on the behind by the family bratwurst grill. The fire and the burning sensation it caused, seemed to make the creature go mad. It went on a rampage of destruction all across the state. Finally, the Men in Dark Suits (MIDS) were able to trap the beast and send it off to a secret underground military base located beneath the sand dunes in Leelanau County Michigan.
The Frankenmoose had the wiles of a tiger, the intelligence of a human and the strength of a moose so; it was not long before the creature escaped the maximum-security base. After his escape, the Frankenmoose knew he would have to find work. He read the local papers and found an advertisement for a four-legged animal that could work hauling logs for an environmentally friendly logging company. It seems the company had a horse but the horse became old and had to be retired to the Grand Rapids Glue Factory and Retirement Home for Horses.
The Frankenmoose easily convinced the owners of the lumber company that he would be an effective animal employee who could carry several times his weight up a steep hill. On the day before Christmas, there was a terrible winter storm. The Frankenmoose was happily hauling large red pine logs up hill to an awaiting truck when suddenly a snowmobile smashed into the truck and an old white bearded man went flying through the air and landed on top of the left antler of the Frankenmoose. “Ouch,” went the old man as he rolled off the antler of the Frankenmoose and feel into the hard packed snow.
The truck driver, who was also the owner of the lumber company, jumped out of his truck cab and ran over to where the old man laid. “Are you hurt old timer?” the lumberjack asked.
“I’m fine,” the old man replied, “but, I’ve got to get to the toy factory in Mancelona and pick up some toys and take them to the orphanage in Kalkaska. I make this trip every year.”
The old man struggled to his feet, got on top of his snowmobile, and tried to start it. The engine would not even turn over. “Phooey Sticks,” the old man cursed, “I’m not going no where with this machine.”
The Monster had been listening to every word and had an idea. The great beast suddenly started burping and snorting in what seemed to be very chaotic patterns. Nonetheless, the lumberjack and the hold man listened intently. “The creature is signaling in Morris code!” exclaimed the old man.
“I know,” retorted the truck driver, “this creature is part human and the human part was in the navy just like I was. Morris code is how the creature communicates. I think he is saying that he will pull you and your snowmobile to the toy factory and back to the orphanage in Kalkaska.”
With the help of the lumberjack, the Frankenmoose was soon harnessed up to the snowmobile and running along the highway on his way to the little town of Mancelona. It was not more than an hour before the colored Christmas lights of Mancelona could be seen flickering in the distance. Then, just about a mile before the Frankenmoose got to town; a large ogre stepped out onto the snowmobile trail and blocked the only passage to town. The Frankenmoose stopped. “Oh no,” said the old man to the moose. “It is the nasty Pinecone Ogre. He eats pinecones all day and then his stomach gets so upset that he becomes mean and tries to ruin everyone’s day.”
The Frankenmoose was undaunted. He simply bent his head down and hurled himself with the snowmobile in tow, directly toward the Ogre. The Ogre would not move but simply growled and howled at the oncoming monster. The bad natured Ogre was no match for the Frankenmoose for the big rack of the monster caught up the Ogre and the Ogre was soon flying high to the other side of the county.
The Frankenmoose and the old man were soon sledding through the Christmas decorated village of Mancelona. Colored lights and ding-dong bells were all along both sides of the street. When they came up to an old abandoned and boarded up cheese factory, the old man said ‘Whoa,’ and the Frankenmoose came to a stop. The old man whistled and an overhead garage door at one end of the building slid up and the Frankenmoose hauled the old man and his busted sled inside. Inside the old building was a well-lit modern toy factory with hundreds of tiny persons dressed up like Christmas elves, working diligently packaging and wrapping thousands of toys.
The Frankenmoose was so captivated by the toy factory that he could not grunt or belch out a single word. In the mean time, the old man had disappeared into an office and reappeared dressed as Santa Claus. “Ho, Ho, Ho,” said the old man. “I bet you are wondering what is going on my monster friend,” the old man said to the Frankenmoose. “You’ve probably guessed that I am really Santa but, no doubt you are wondering why I don’t have my regular sleigh and reindeer and also why am I making toys down here in Northern Michigan? Well, I do not have my reindeer here because so many people shoot deer for food here in Northern Michigan so, I left my friends down state where they would not be injured. I set up a factory here because elves are willing to work more cheaply here in Mancelona then they are up in the Artic Circle. It is nice here with all the lakes, beaches, and fun things to do. In addition, by saving money on wages I can put more money into making toys for the little girls and boys.
The Frankenmoose was glad he had helped the old man and was happier still when they delivered the toys to the orphanage and the monster saw the happy faces of the little boys and girls. The Frankenmoose had made a friend in old Santa Claus and had helped bring a little joy into the lives of orphans. The Frankenmoose had saved Christmas for all the little children at the orphanage. He did not feel like a monster that night but instead, felt like a hero and even a little bit human.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
MY FUNGI HUNTING BUSINESS HAS MUSHROOMED
By Tim Colin
When you live way up north you have to come up with creative ways of making a living. One business that I have done well at is giving city people backwoods tour guides. Last year I took people out to the swamp bogs so they could get a good look at quicksand. The funny thing is about half way through the tour everyone would disappear. I guess they thought my tour was boring and took off to the bar. I did learn to take cash up front before I gave a tour. Those people that lit out on me during my quicksand tours ended up not paying and they never answered their phones when I would call them.
This year I have a brand new tour. The annual Martin Mushroom Festival which I believe they have every year, seemed like a great backdrop for my new business, mushroom tours. All I would have to do is advertise in a big city that has a lot of rich people. Well, Detroit is broke but, Chicago has a lot of rich people so I decided to blanket that area with advertising. I did not have any money to spend but, my brother has a cell phone that has unlimited calling during the week provided you call after eleven o’clock at night.
I then offered a buddy of mine a free pitcher of OMB beer if could get me some people signed up for my mushroom hunting tour. He just had to make cold calls some night. It was only a couple of days later that my buddy got arrested for harassing people on the phone. But, before he went to jail he did hook me up with this couple from Chicago who were willing to pay me $500.00 to take them mushroom hunting for the Martin Mushroom festival. Now, not only was I about to make three months wages for just a couple of days work but, I got to drink the pitcher of OMB beer myself since my buddy was in jail and expected to stay there the rest of the spring and maybe part of the summer.
The Chicago couple had lots of bucks. He worked as a store manager and she worked as a nurse. They seemed nice. They were in their forties so they were too old for me to hang out with but, I took them to a nice sports bar where sometimes a former pro athlete drops by. I bought them each a shot of Absolute and then took them to their hotel and put them to bed. It was nine o’clock and I wanted these city slickers to get a good nights rest before I took them into the backwoods. They were both on the pudgy side so, I hoped neither of them would have a heart attack.
After I dropped the old folks off, I went to a topless bar. The next day when we got to the woods I regretted staying out until two. All the birds sounded like they were screaming in my ears and the swamp mold were doing a job to my sinuses. We walked through a swamp and then a black berry briar patch and then, we came across a whole slug of mushrooms. Since we were going to the morel mushroom festival, I figured these must be morel mushrooms. My brother once had his stomach pumped when he ate a mess of poison mushrooms. But, for $500.00 I was willing to take a chance that these were morels and anyway, these people should not be going mushroom hunting if they did not know what they were doing. Furthermore, the people at the mushroom festival would tell us if these were not morel mushrooms the geezers seemed real happy filling up their bag with the stringy pink capped beauties.
After we returned to the car we drove to Martin where the mushroom festival was held. Unfortunately, I was a bit off on my dates and the mushroom festival did not start until the following weekend. The couple was a little perturbed but, I suggested that they come back the next weekend and I would only charge them half price for my services. They agreed.
The couple returned to Chicago with their mushrooms. Three days went by and I had not heard from them in regards to their upcoming redeployment to the mushroom woods during the Martin Mushroom festival. Finally, on Thursday I gave them a call. Some strange lady answered the phone. When I asked to talk to my customers she said that she was their daughter and that her parents were both in the hospital. I immediately envisioned that my middle-aged meal tickets had been in some terrible accident. When I asked the daughter she said no, they had not been in a car accident. Instead, she said, her parents had gone up North to hunt mushrooms with some “creepy backwoods guy”. The daughter then told me that “the creep” had gotten her parents to pick some deadly poisonous mushrooms. She said her parents fried the mushrooms up like “the creep” told them to do and then, ate the mushrooms with steak and red wine. The daughter did say that her parents would be fine but, they would be turning “the creep” into the Better Business Bureau.
When the daughter asked who I was I decided I had better just hang up the phone. I decided that the next time I take people mushroom hunting I would first buy a bag of morel mushrooms and then just find a spot and stick them in the ground. (We do the same thing when we guide deer and moose hunters up here). The people would be happy to find the mushrooms and I would still get paid.
When you live way up north you have to come up with creative ways of making a living. One business that I have done well at is giving city people backwoods tour guides. Last year I took people out to the swamp bogs so they could get a good look at quicksand. The funny thing is about half way through the tour everyone would disappear. I guess they thought my tour was boring and took off to the bar. I did learn to take cash up front before I gave a tour. Those people that lit out on me during my quicksand tours ended up not paying and they never answered their phones when I would call them.
This year I have a brand new tour. The annual Martin Mushroom Festival which I believe they have every year, seemed like a great backdrop for my new business, mushroom tours. All I would have to do is advertise in a big city that has a lot of rich people. Well, Detroit is broke but, Chicago has a lot of rich people so I decided to blanket that area with advertising. I did not have any money to spend but, my brother has a cell phone that has unlimited calling during the week provided you call after eleven o’clock at night.
I then offered a buddy of mine a free pitcher of OMB beer if could get me some people signed up for my mushroom hunting tour. He just had to make cold calls some night. It was only a couple of days later that my buddy got arrested for harassing people on the phone. But, before he went to jail he did hook me up with this couple from Chicago who were willing to pay me $500.00 to take them mushroom hunting for the Martin Mushroom festival. Now, not only was I about to make three months wages for just a couple of days work but, I got to drink the pitcher of OMB beer myself since my buddy was in jail and expected to stay there the rest of the spring and maybe part of the summer.
The Chicago couple had lots of bucks. He worked as a store manager and she worked as a nurse. They seemed nice. They were in their forties so they were too old for me to hang out with but, I took them to a nice sports bar where sometimes a former pro athlete drops by. I bought them each a shot of Absolute and then took them to their hotel and put them to bed. It was nine o’clock and I wanted these city slickers to get a good nights rest before I took them into the backwoods. They were both on the pudgy side so, I hoped neither of them would have a heart attack.
After I dropped the old folks off, I went to a topless bar. The next day when we got to the woods I regretted staying out until two. All the birds sounded like they were screaming in my ears and the swamp mold were doing a job to my sinuses. We walked through a swamp and then a black berry briar patch and then, we came across a whole slug of mushrooms. Since we were going to the morel mushroom festival, I figured these must be morel mushrooms. My brother once had his stomach pumped when he ate a mess of poison mushrooms. But, for $500.00 I was willing to take a chance that these were morels and anyway, these people should not be going mushroom hunting if they did not know what they were doing. Furthermore, the people at the mushroom festival would tell us if these were not morel mushrooms the geezers seemed real happy filling up their bag with the stringy pink capped beauties.
After we returned to the car we drove to Martin where the mushroom festival was held. Unfortunately, I was a bit off on my dates and the mushroom festival did not start until the following weekend. The couple was a little perturbed but, I suggested that they come back the next weekend and I would only charge them half price for my services. They agreed.
The couple returned to Chicago with their mushrooms. Three days went by and I had not heard from them in regards to their upcoming redeployment to the mushroom woods during the Martin Mushroom festival. Finally, on Thursday I gave them a call. Some strange lady answered the phone. When I asked to talk to my customers she said that she was their daughter and that her parents were both in the hospital. I immediately envisioned that my middle-aged meal tickets had been in some terrible accident. When I asked the daughter she said no, they had not been in a car accident. Instead, she said, her parents had gone up North to hunt mushrooms with some “creepy backwoods guy”. The daughter then told me that “the creep” had gotten her parents to pick some deadly poisonous mushrooms. She said her parents fried the mushrooms up like “the creep” told them to do and then, ate the mushrooms with steak and red wine. The daughter did say that her parents would be fine but, they would be turning “the creep” into the Better Business Bureau.
When the daughter asked who I was I decided I had better just hang up the phone. I decided that the next time I take people mushroom hunting I would first buy a bag of morel mushrooms and then just find a spot and stick them in the ground. (We do the same thing when we guide deer and moose hunters up here). The people would be happy to find the mushrooms and I would still get paid.
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