The Preacher & the Bare

About 6 years ago, a middle aged man, the Preacher and his mate, the bare, wanted to move to our village. No home was to there liking so they tore one down only to find the curse of dead critters between the walls. Seems the previous owner liked a cozy basement (the cave). They built a frame church on the spot. It is still unfinished and they sleep with the decomposing wildlife, below ground.

Resently a group of Mezicans from Iowa were hired to throw up some sheetrock walls but a party happened until the smell of rotting squirrels drove them away. So, it remains unfinished. But lets move on......

Now over last winter, The Bare (Mrs Preacher) must of had a stroke, dry farts or something and when she walks, her right arm swings like the trunk of a elephant and she's almost dubbled her weight thanks to a bubble butt inplant. Locals say she resembles a hairless Bigfoot. She even had her tits inhanced, somehow (we belive it was on that trip to Cuba). Now like most woman folk in our village, she's larger then her mate and rule's with a iron skillet. Our men are forced to give up drinking beer, going to stag partys or even moving funiture without asking permission. She also change's her uniform several times a day according to the by-law's of the church. Beach wear is a dress to the covered boat launch and picnic's are held behind a brick wall. Eye contact is forbidden. Hair MUST be tied in a very tight bun (even pubic)which by most rules of the church means she's taken, thank god. Just think about it, could you have relations with a woman with tied up pubic hair, even if your a lesbo?

For the trapper preacher of the Uniform Church in which he lives in the catacomb sub basement with walls insulated with the bodys of dead wildlife, the day started with services of the daily warobe. The congerations arrived, the party soon begun with the women drapped in full body cloth. The summer breeze soon turned into a 30 knot wind which ment, ye must go into the waters. While in the swamp with children, a huge bog blew into the dock from the north. This doesn't look good for the party.

Guests soon became distude with the cat tails and weeds and left. Now was the time to go into full blowen Remove the bog mode. But what uniforn to wear? The leaf blower suit: Back pack gas engine, ear muffs, goggles, gloves, long leg pants and long sleave shirt and mud boots, well looks good but will it work in the water? Maybe, but....

1st we'll try the pull buy a couple of catails from the dock but wait, swim trunks is not the right atire. A a few of the congreation have returned to witness a mericle. Call the neighbors? No, they don't work on Sundays and are afraid of all the critter traps, dead chipmunks, and human poo in the yard plus the women in full body cloths. The sheriff has posted the property as off limits to all folks of normal faiths.

Did I metions that out preacher/trapper lives in the catacomb sub seller while his church is still unfinished after how many years? A 3 hurse garage is fully furnished with weed eaters, lawn mowers, chemicals to poison both the lake and animals in the name of this is mine and worship my dream to make my church rule the village.

These folks don't marry in the true cents of the word nor do the breed. They more like hatch if at all. Born without tails but still reptile like yet with almost bat like qualities. They suck in so many ways. Like the time I saw the woman chew on a live woodchuck and smile when she saw I was watching then presented herself to me and, the mrs! But unpublished photos show the do interbreed not only within the family but with the critters they trap. "Rapid road kill are on the dinner table many evenings" says the Precher.So maybe its not just the water they drink but a practice brought over from the old country.

Of course there many other helpless couples. Like the neighbor who makes a reminder list of what and when to do thing. You never alter the list. Example: Sunny summer day, 90+, 2PM boat ride and lunch. Sounds normal. At the appointed hour, the motor doesn't start. SOOOOOooooo..... lets just sit the increasing temps, on the dock, in the boat, no wind and read the paper? At one point, about 3:32PM another neighbor confronts them, "anything wrong?" You know the answer. "See here, number 23 on our list. Sit in boat and bake till done." Sound like the membership of the Uniform church will be increasing.

What about me, am I mad, perfect, mature? I may be the worst of them all! I am the reason a woman is still in theropy after 12 years. I was working on my tan, on the dock. She was on her deck, feeling all full of herself so whay not have a young stud (me) be the cause of all her mid life godess problems? Of course her theropist was much more fun to talk to and look at cause he got $300 a hour but her moist panties stuck to the wall during a session. When her under weight mate was caught "tubing" with my Mrs, its just not perty what happened and I for one. will not tell tales (WHAT?) The Water Partol did catch her with there short range len's, naked in the water. Wasn't hard to see as the oil(?) slick around her riveled the Guld Disaster. Thus was her way of transfering her life to the fishies. There still washing up dead on shore from that one.

There's a nice lad down the road who is either on or off his meds. Here's a example of off meds: walk naked (a lot of that around here) down the road till someone calls the law. No harm done. Most folks thought it was just me, going to the mail box. He sorta looked like a female Jeasus whithout the uniform so manybe the church, no wait, he had a beard. The Uniform Church won't alow facial hair under by-law 10/4-69 Section 12.

Lets stray from the Unholy church for a moment and talk about our sewer. We are under going a rehab of sorts to our 43 year old system. Complete with sink holes, missing man-holes and sagging pipes. No shit! 1st they have to clean the line then they bring in the video machine. Thats right, we'll have a DVD of our system. Seems the mother system (State of Minnesota) knows we have to much clean water. I have no idea how they know that but there's a huge fine unless we rid our pipes of this clean water. Here, nobody would dare speak to the working men of the sewer but I do. You can learn a great deal from these guys. Adult dippers to sweaters and tennis shoes that clog our lift station. This being a place that lifts crap to a higher level to pump it down hill to the river. Don't worry, this all gets back to the Uniform Church soon.

Our town is made up of a bunch of white folk and a couple of off white so we can git some of that Fed money. There's even a chinese couple here but we don't talk about them because they use waste to produce beautiful gardens. Thay even eat the fish from our lake. Who else would do such a thing? We do have a fire department, yet, they tend to allow thing to burn down. Even our swap was totaled by a arson blaze. A homless man was found dead behind the MLFD barn. The only burger joint, gone to a grease fire.

Whiskey, now thats a big favorite around here as bootlegging goes way back yet the Uniform Church touchs narry a drop (nor smoke either) but that didn't stop me from offering the Bare some on more than one occasion. She even gasped when I was waiting for the school bus with a bottle of our home made finest waiting. I did see the Preacher on a Saturday afternoon tilt back 2 bottles of store bought beer while the Bare was at her academy sewing new undergarments. He was getting ready for a pre Sunday look see from behing the alter in the cave.

There's two kinds of trash here. The gay down the road by the slaughter house and the kind ya put out on the curb. Yes they can be both the same thing, and yes, the trash collector can be the same man but now I'm talkin' bout' the kind ya put in cans and the truck comes and, never mind. Its just to confusing. Lets just say the Preachers trash is, AGGGgggggg...... OK, its all the same thing and it involves evil, women, sex or lack there of, a whip and crys of "Yes Dear".

Preacher Creature of the Night: When to sun goes down and Bare Bigfoot has issued instructions, a evening uniform is warren, which is dark but for the whites of his eyes. What follows is the use of a rope, a hose and a broom. Stealth is the key to hoseing down the dock then scrubbing it with the broom but rope? The dock must be protected from Mallards. It is strung from lands end to the end of the dock at a heigth of about 10". What to do abount the heron on top of the boat lift. Nothing but a running attack with arms waving and wild shouts of SHOO bird. No uniform required for this event except for the Bare pointing a fat paw yelling, "Do you see that?" (dinner?)

Our village slut, who is with child, and suprise, is divoriced and got married to a unemployed, divoriced concret block buster live but 2 doors from the Uniform church. In all, this couple will have 8 children and in need of meds for a nasty butt rash. These hillbillys drive trucks, ballcaps on backwords but no moonshine. Thats for there grandpa & grandma who sell mixed breed goats that resemble Bobby Bill, child #5. The bi-monthly family gathering is a feast of road kill coon mixed with questionable green scum from the lake bottom. The indoor plumbing has become plugged on several weekends. Roter-Rutter is on speed dial.

Village dwarf: Our town shorty who is employed by the Mental Health Care Center, has been trapping males at a alarming rate. No cleavage is to small for this gal nor is any male to shallow for her. She has been reported in the gardens of our town doing unnatural things to her body and corn cobs. Rumors are talked about in hush tones about her starting a new version of the Uniform Church. Working title: Our Lady of the Crops.

End of page 1
Page 2:Uncle Steve's Critter Cornor: The story of "Red Beard" & "Only Child" Uncle Steve's Critter Tails:

Ice had just formed a day or two earlier and a lot of open water remained. A dozen swas were still here. A ill deer trotted from the swamp, made it part way across the ice, slipped, fell, broke its leg. There it lay till a ceyote decided to have a late supper of its inards. Sun came up and a flock of crows thought it looked like a good breakfast. Some kind sole's of our village saw the deer rise its head to view the dinning. Troops were called. "Red Bread" & "Only Child" got a canoe and made way to the animal. Yes still alive, head and eyes moving so, to be kind, we'll kill it, but how? "Red" already had his yearly limit but it looked so, yummy. "I only have a shot gun" said Red. To messy. "I'll call Uncle Steve. He's got guns" said Only.

Steve, who already has a record on file with the local police for feeding the ducks bread said, "I could go to jail, so NO!". A call to the DNR said ya can't kill it but if ya want, ya can have the carcuss after its dead. So all day we watched the deer try to lift its head and wonder, "What the fuck?". Now 5 eagles had now given up fishing from the nearby open water and were having a early supper. Dead at last, wildlife would feast for days to come. The world has run full circle, but wait.....

Just before sunset, I looked at "Bernie", I named her that and there she was, not 10 feet from shore, being dragged home for yet another meal by our neighbor from down near the swamp, "Red Beard". Later, "Only said it was only chewed on a bit and should be fine".

Now let me tell you about "Only"....... "Only Child" is a semi-normal kid of 40 years with a kind heart. The kind who would nurse a fuzzy bunny back to health. He even carrys his mothers lipstick and meds with him. One day while looking down at the drainage culvet where swamp water flows to the city, he saw the largest fish he'd ever seen, dead on the bank next a manhole. Quick thinking, he ran to his bike where he had a plastic bag and scooped it into it. Wanting to share his joy, he brought to Uncle Steve's cottage. Indeed this was a huge fish. Biggest I'd ever seen out of our swamp. So in 80 degree heat, he brought it down to the dock, washed the slime off, held it up all natural like and we took a photo. Ploated and full of eggs he brought it home but no room in the freezer so he made a few phone calls.

Across the street for where we live is a family of Soft Brain's (never make eye contact or comment on whats between there teeth) so naturally they said sure. "Just you put it thar in our ice chest". I cannot say for sure if the rotting meat was ever eaten but "Only" had that critter stuffed at the rate of $12 a inch and now hangs on the wall next to the TV with a plack that reads, "Largest Fish Caught in Medicine Swamp". We've been invited over for Holiday dinner of venison & fish complments of "Red & Only".

Theres this gal down the street who took in a sick wood duck and kept it in her home for many years. It flew around and shit where ever it wanted for years. When it died, she had it cremated and was put on the mantel. Well, long before the duck, she had this horse who kicked her in the forehead and it left one hell of a hoof print. Now you know haw this is going to end. Yep, they put it under the broiler for 24 hours and it now rests in a box in the living room.