The Real History
The oral history of FRed Lobster, that had been handed down from generation to generation, was thought to have been lost forever. However, a recent discovery has been made of a hand written, barely legible, copy of the last five hundred year's history of FRed Lobster. Unfortunately the first 3 episodes were written in an extremely ancient language and we are having difficulty translating it. For now, we have decided to release the parts that have been translated from the strange language that the last Episodes were written in. I believe the language was called "Koon-ash" or something similar to that...
The following is the best translation of the original text that we could acquire. Be prepared for run-on sentences, misspelled words, the incorrect usages of "There","They're" and "Their", misplaced or dangling modifiers, vague pronoun references and just all around bad grammar.
All that being said, I hope you enjoy
"The Real History of FRed Lobster".
Chapters 17 - 21
After a while Scott Halley shows back up, and says he found Tommy. He figures Tommy is safe enough, wandering the streets of New Orleans, cause he done got hooked up with a tambourine player from the Salvation Army, and they was gonna go get a cup of coffee when she was done, playing amazing grace.
Scott Halley says, let's blow this joint, cause he done spotted a place he wanted to check out. We stumble out to where he had parked Snowball, and he pokes me in the Sidecar and we’re off. What happens next, depends on who’s story you listen to. I say the reason that son of a bitch pulled us over is Scott Halley was driving too fast, and he run a stop light. Scott Halley wants to blame it on me, he says the reason that son of a bitch pulled us over, is because I was standing up backwards peeing out of the Sidecar.
Lucky for us, he wasn’t no real cop, he had a gun and a badge, oh yeah he had a dang whistle too. It seems that there had been a storm down there, and the government sent the army to help the real cops maintain law and order. Well when Scott Halley found out this guy was in the army, he tells him that our good friend Tommy was dating a gal in the army, that seemed to help, and the army cop, kinda eased up on us some, he said if we had a pal named Tommy, we couldn’t be all that bad, cause his name was Tommy too. He was gonna let us off with a warning, when I says, what kinda cop would not have a car or a horse or something, he says he was hoping to get a Hummer, Scott Halley says come on go with us, he knew a place where he could get a hummer for two dollars. We was lucky enough, he just took the keys to Snowball and told us to stay out of trouble.
There is a place in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun( dang someone should use that in a song). Anyway that was the place Scott Halley had spotted earlier, and it was just across the street from where we had been pulled over. So we push Snowball to the curb, and waltz in there like we owned the place.‘There was women everywhere, in all stages of undress, I says Scott Halley, I think we hit the jackpot. About that time the lights go dim, and everybody got real quit, then the band started playing, and this gal comes on the stage, she was wearing a long dark cotton dress, with starched embroidered cuffs and collar. Scott Halley says, tambourine player my ass, Tommy’s new girlfriend is a Hoochie Coochie dancer. We agreed it would be better not to tell him, so we never did, he still don’t know.
Well we hung out there the rest of the night, we met some nice guys from California, Peter, Dennis, and I think the other guys name was Jack, they was wanting to make a movie. They had seen us pull up across the street on Snowball, and now they wanted to make a movie about a couple of guys riding motorcycles and partying in New Orleans, them silly sons of bitches wanted to make a movie about me and Scott Halley, and they wanted us to be in it. We told them we didn’t have time for that, cause we was here on a mission, but they could go ahead and make the movie, so we spent the rest of the night telling about what we had done while there, and answering their questions. They asked if riding a motorcycle was hard, and we said no, if you as drunk enough it was easy riding. Don’t know if them boys ever made the movie or not, but they was nice enough guys.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk, wishing Lord that I was stoned, dang sorry I was rambling, hang over is such an ugly thing, lucky for me and Scott Halley, we learnt the cure, Dixie Beer.
Sunday passed real slow, we didn’t see Tommy at all Sunday, but Monday morning we all met up to take care of business. We were all three sitting on Marie LaVoe’s door step when she opened up shop. Scott Halley was the better talker so we agreed to let him tell the story of why we needed her help, and settle on a reasonable wage, after a couple of hours haggling over price, she agreed to come back to Fred Lobster with us and rid us of the evil redheaded son of a bitch. Scott Halley wrote her out a check for $1000.00, I had never seen a check that big before, and I’d never seen Scott Halley spell his name Lou Sanus before either.
We hung around while she packed up her grip, Tommy said he’d meet us back at the train, me and Scott Halley, helped Marie LaVoe carry her satchels over to the rail yard. She packed one with clothes, and the other three were full of herbs, roots, and voo doo looking stuff.
When we met back at the train, I asked Tommy about his new girlfriend, he said he didn’t have no girlfriend, but he would introduce me to his new wife, I said dang. Tommy’s new bride rode in the passenger car with Marie LaVoe, and they had become good friends by the time we made it back to Fred Lobsters. Me and Scott Halley, had a big time on the ride back, Scott Halley would poke me and say watch this shit, and he’d go to strumming a few chords on his guitar, and we would watch Paula’s foot go to tapping, we must have done that a hundred times on the ride back, and it worked every time, and we laughed every time.
We got back after dark, Monday night, and decided to wait till daylight to bring Marie LaVoe to face off with that evil red headed son of a bitch. Not that we were scared to go up there in the dark, we just wanted Marie LaVoe to get a better look at what she was up against. We was all tired from out long journey, so we called it an early night, just as we was about to doze, someone started calling out Mark, every now and then the son of a bitch would scream Mark, Mark.
That went on for quite a spell, Scott Halley sat up in his bunk, and he hollered I’m trying to sleep, quit calling me, and my name ain’t Mark. Well that didn’t stop the son of a bitch from calling for Mark. Mark, Mark the son of a bitch called again, Scott Halley says to me, go out there and shut that son of a bitch up. So I get my boots on and go out to see who’s calling for Mark, I can’t find no one, then I hear it again< Mark,Mark, I stumble over to where the sound is coming from, and see it ain’t nobody at all, it’s a dang dog. I call for Scott Halley to come see my new talking circus dog, I says this son of a bitch is so smart, he’s calling for his old owner I bet, and I bet his old owners name is Mark. As you can imagine I was plenty proud to have found a talking dog. When Scott Halley comes out to look at my new found friend, he says that ain’t no smart talking circus dog, that’s one of them Hair lipped Chihuahua, dang you can imagine my disappointment.( Some of you will say dang, that’s an old joke, and now you know where it came from)
Daylight come, an Me want to go home, dang sorry, my mind just works that way, anyway daylight comes, and we saddle up the mules with all of Marie Lavoe’s voo doo stufl‘, and head up to the big house. Scott Halley says it will be better if me and him wait in the pine thicket in back of the house, and let Marie Lavoe meet her rival head on alone. I don’t have a problem with that, so that’s what we done. We had to carry all of her stuff up to the side porch, and as quick as set it down, we rang the door bell, and hollered come out here you red headed son of a bitch, then we run for the pine thicket, leaving Marie Lavoe to do her job.
Me and Scott Halley got to the pine thicket just as the red headed son of a bitch made it to the door. We got turned around and squatted down(not that we was hiding, you understand, just staying out of the way so as Marie Lavoe could do her job)just in time to see her bust through the door. Then all Hell broke loose, there was wailing and a flailing, we couldn’t understand anything they was a saying, we thought it might be some Devil talk, then Marie Lavoe dropped all her bags, and took to running straight out for that red headed son of a bitch, and brother she come a humming, that red headed son of a bitch, done the same. When they met in the middle, me and Scott Halley ducked down, cause we knew it was gonna be bad. They met with enough force to knock down any normal people, and then they took to wrestling, and screaming and it looked like they was a crying. The next thing we know, the red headed son of a bitch goes over to where Marie Lavoe had dropped her bags, and helps her carry in her stuff. They wasn’t wrestling at all, they was a hugging. That red headed son of a bitch was calling Marie Lavoe, Mama.
***Pause for dramatic effect***
Me and Scott Halley was heart sick, dang we had done gone to New Orleans and brought back Marie Lavoe, our only hope of ridding ourselves of the evil red headed son of a bitch, and come to find out she was Marie Lavoe's dang daughter. Scott Halley said, she better not try and cash that dang check.
Scott Halley says let's go back to Fred Lobsters and drink a beer or two, and figure this shit out, and I says ok. We jump up on the mules and head back down, when we see buzzards circling over in the south west corner. So we ride over to have a look. When we get close enough to see it’s just a buffalo carcass, all of the hide was gone, and most of the innards, we’re just fixin' to leave the buzzards to their work, when I noticed something moving in the buffalo guts, as I got closer I could hear what sounded like crying coming from the pile of goo, I got out my knife, and started cutting free whatever it was, after a few minutes I pull out what appears to be a baby boy.
I says dang, Scott Halley, this buffalo done eat a baby, and now the baby is trying to eat his way out. Scott Halley says, that buffalo didn’t eat no dang baby, he says what we got here is living proof, that the Injuns Phucked Buffalo.
Well I cleaned him up some and poked him in my saddlebags, and we went on back down to Fred lobster. All and all it had been a pretty good day, I didn’t get my house back, but I did have a talking dog, and a new baby, I was gonna name him Mark, so the dog could talk to him, but Scott Halley said that would probably confuse the kid, so I named him Mike.
It was about this time that their new neighbor Jimmy rode up on his horse named "Ranger"... Jimmy wasn't a next door neighbor... but close enough. Anyways... Jimmy was a nice guy and he alway had nice rides... and anytime Jimmy came over it was sure to be a good time. Matter of fact... I think this was the day Jimmy talked us into building a race track for some of the older horses. More about that next week...
I'm not sayin' that I was scared to go into the house or anything, but me and Halley decided that we needed a hideout to plan our raids and pillages. A secret base from which to conduct our overnight operations and a place to store snowball out of site during the day to ward off any suspicion of the true identity of Dartanyun. We give Stubby 100 dollars that we found in an old sock and sent him into town for supplies.
Meanwhile Jimmy proceeded to tell us of his superior horse racing skills, which I said was stupid because everyone knew that I was the best horse racer ever born. So we began to argue... and that made us thirsty... so we decided to have a few beers. Well one thing led to another and I can't remember who actually came up with the idea of a race to decide who's skills were superior, too much beer was drunk to remember details, but someone came up with the best idea ever. We was gonna have a wagon race...
Somehow or another, in that drunken state, we did establish a few rules for the race. We was to use only 2 horses to pull our wagon. Four legged horses only, no eight legged horses allowed. I'd personally never seen an eight legged horse, but Jimmy swears they exist. No rotary horses either, which was fine because those guys are always busy riding in parades and stuff, or is that the Shriners? Anyways... It was best to use older horses too because we decided that you could buy the other teams horses for seven dollars and fiddy cents if you were dumb enough to do something like that. The horses would have to wear regular shoes, no mud shoes or snow shoes allowed. We'd each have a team of 4 drivers and to make it fair we'd all have to drink 6 beers a piece.
While we was waiting for Stubby to finish the hideout we figured we ought to map out a location for our racetrack. We wandered out into the pasture down past the house and found the perfect spot. We drew out a perfect oval in the most level spot in the pasture. Some people say it's a goofy bean shaped track on a completely unlevel stretch of land, but they probably weren't hung over when they looked at it. It was a beautiful thing, complete with open air stables for each wagon team just off the south end of the track.
Now pay attention, cause this is where it gets tricky... Jimmy's friend Dr Brown had recently invented a totally new invention to keep up with how many times each wagon went around the track. Dr Brown explained how it worked using reference points from the space time continuum but I didn't understand any of it, I just remember the name, Flux Capacitor. So each wagon would need one of these Flux Capacitors and that would supposedly keep anyone from cheating and claiming they'd already passed another wagon seven times and how could they be wining. Not that anyone would do that or anything... Dr Brown also explained the importance of keeping every wagon equipped with the aforementioned flux capacitor under 88 miles per hour. I didn't see that being a problem but he did mentioned it several times.
So we spent the next week or so working on the track and building outhouses and a stage for a band to play on after the race. Tommy even got us an old yellow boxcar from his work so we could put the Flux Capacitor equipment on top of it. We were so busy with getting ready for the race that we didn't even notice that Stubby was almost done with the hideout until it was too late. Plus, Stubby must have mentioned to some folks around town about the wagon race because we had lots of people stopping by asking if they could be in the race too. We figured the more wagons there were the more fun the race would be, so we told 'em they could all be in the race. That last bit proved to be a bit of a problem a few years later, turns out people get all crazy about wagon racing.
The hideout looked great but I guess we forgot to stress the importance of the secret part. We had intended for it to be small and kinda hidden but Stubby had built a two story building only about fifty foot from the back of the house. When we asked about the location, he explained that it would make it easier for the pizza delivery people to find, so we went along with it. Once inside we were thoroughly impressed. Stubby had built a bathroom inside, commonly referred to as a "Head", and a lush living quarters upstairs. Over the years since we have fell into the habit of calling it "Head and Quarters".
It was around this time that another load of passengers arrived at FRed Lobster from the train depot. Folks liked to come to Fred Lobster looking for a little down time and some good grub after several days on a train. The trains in those days usually had pretty dang good food, but it was still no match for the locally grown, grass fed, gluten-free organic lobsters served at FRed Lobster. The passengers usually only stayed in town a couple of hours. Just long enough for the the workers to refill the train with water, grease the moving parts and distribute all the mail. However today they'd be staying overnight because they were waiting for another steam engine to arrive.
As it turns out, Dr Brown stole the train engine and run it off into a local ravine. We're not really sure why he did that, but nobody has seen Eastwood since that day. I think there was most likely some foul play involved out there in that ravine but that's none of my business, but more people staying at FRed Lobster longer was good for business. So now they was having to send another engine all the way from Baltimore but it'd only take a day since they could go real fast not having any cars attached to it.
It was during this extended stay that my dad noticed one of the passengers snooping around in the main kitchen at FRed Lobster. Head chef Keith was yelling at him, something about car keys, but I never can understand Keith since his accent is so bad. Sous-chef Eddie (spelled just like Eddie Van Halen) usually translates for him, but he wasn't around.
The man had a little note book out scribbling stuff in it when my dad approached him to inquire what he was doing in the kitchen. He man acted surprised and a little indignant once my dad got to questioning him. Turns out he was from way up north somewhere, Detroit maybe, and was traveling back from a business meeting in California. He explained his interest in the way the kitchen was setup to promote efficiency in the creation of the lobster meals. He noted how each person on the prep line performed one task and then passed the lobster to the next person, thus greatly increasing the speed and efficiency because each person only had one thing to do. He seemed to think he could use that same strategy in his line of work, which happened to be horseless buggies. Obviously that guy was a little off in the head... I wonder if he ever made anything of himself...
Anyway, I gotta go, people are already showing up for next week's race and someone is trying to set up a tent out in the cemetery.