McDuck

Disclaimer: Being that this may overlap other events Walt has related in other stories, I must apologize in advance. His advancing years and skill at deliberate mis-remembering should be taken into account, as well as the fact that I, having had no interpersonal relations with him outside of this site the past few months, know the truth of this man's life. Please forgive his foggy recollections. ------------ Growing up in a brothel can be a trying experience for any young man, but possibly even more so for one as introverted and shy as Walt was in his early years. I can only speculate how horrifying it was (for him) to be surrounded by scantily clad female anatomy through all of his formative years, as he has told me time and time again that there are "gaps" in his memory of those years. However, his apparent aversion to the glorious miracle that is the female body may be attributed to one instance in particular that I can recall. I was one day shy of celebrating my 45th birthday when I happened upon what looked to be a carnival funhouse, replete with day-glo paint, rickety front staircase and an inconstant shudder that shook a stream of Arizona dust from the walls and roof at irregular intervals. The sign out front read, "The Sweatshop - workin' it since 1942", and the limited wicker furniture out front was occupied by jaded looking women of varying shapes and sizes trying not to glare at me too balefully as I grinned at them in passing. I don't know if it was revulsion or hope that gleamed in those many discerning eyes, but either way, I was hooked. The car growled to an irritable stop in the dirt off the left side of the shack, and as it did, a tawny haired whelp peeked his head eagerly out of the second-story window. The popsicle stains on his face were rapidly being glazed over with the sugar from an enormous and multi-colored lollipop. I choked back my rising gorge and ventured a wave. In the course of waving back, the little crumb-snatcher managed to drop the lollipop down to the porch cover, where it looked as if it were in good company with the animal cracker boxes, half-mauled chicken wings, melba toast and many little husks of what I assumed must be discarded apple cores. A thin wail began to issue forth from the kid's mouth that promised to summon coyotes and rupture eardrums for miles around if not remedied soon. Luckily, the residents had it covered. Now, normally I'm not inclined to be overly concerned when the obnoxious and loud ones get their Karmic care packages, but as I watched, the little guy's face was pressed rather rapidly and none too gently into the exposed, and overly large, breasts of another of the residents. The wail was immediately replaced with a sound like a plastic motorboat engine churning in thick butter, and the tyke was flailing his little arms about in what appeared to be a dire attempt at repositioning the bare flesh boxing both of his ears. His little feet were drumming a light pattern on the windowsill, indicating to me that I had precious little time to spare. I dashed across a yard littered with abandoned furniture and what appeared to my innocent eyes to be "exercise equipment", and up onto the porch. At this point, several of the world-weary ladies animated rather rapidly and began trying to impede my progress by removing articles of clothing from their bodies and hurling them rather more enthusiastically than I imaged them capable of at my feet. Silly gals. Clothing was no match for my bunny-hop. I dodged past a few hands, legs and other exposed anatomy into the belly of this den of iniquity, finding that tension over my potential impending doom was making my pants feel terribly constricting. I knew it was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the horrors of that place and found myself unable to leave again. Making my way through the entryway, I found that there was little to no light inside, other than what filtered through the dingy, grime and dust covered windows, but that I could navigate by the grunting sounds I heard coming from above me to the right. I dashed up a barely-lit staircase with men's clothing strewn all over the rails, evidence of the fate that awaited me if I tarried too long, and made for the on-going motorboat sound in the direction I recalled the little guy's window having been. My eyes were about to receive the shock of their entire existence up to that point. As I entered the room, I rapidly noticed that there was little of the usual childhood playthings, the room being dominated by a large bed with grimy bedclothes, an old armoire with lewd carvings running the standing length of it and apples in various states of disrepair strewn across every available surface. I was horrified. The boy seemed to have nearly passed out, as the motorboat sound was replaced with a sibilant, wet smacking sound and his feet were swaying slower than I had seen them perform from the ground outside. A bright-eyed, if nigh-Amazonian, woman grinned at me viciously, lowering the near-smothered boy to the floor, where his wail was renewed with the re-introduction of oxygen. Had I detected a fading grin as he hit the floor? His face was a greasy smear, so it was difficult to tell. My guess was the smothering had made him go giddy. I faced the woman, unblinking, and swore an oath of celibacy at that very moment. Her endowments were ample, and the evidence of the boy's entrapment was apparent all over her front. I felt that same fear and constriction I had upon evading the vixens out front. Time was running short. she must have been employing some sort of mystical charm or potion, because as the tightness in my clothes increased, my desire to leave faltered as well. It was a good thing that the boy moved and drew my attention to the task at hand, or I would have been doomed for certain. He had reached for one of the less-mangled apples lying about. That was enough to snap my attention back to the matter at hand. Feinting in towards the woman, as if I intended to tackle her to the ground, I dodged away at the last second, before her menacingly soft and glowing arms could encircle me and seal my fate. the boy was within my reach now, between me and the door, so I darted my arms around him, jostling his recently procured treat from his hands. He screamed in what sounded like agony, "APPLE APPLE!" so I snatched one up on my way out the door and crammed it in his mouth and shot down the stairs at breakneck speed. Poor kid, they must have only been feeding him candy and apples. My heart went out to this sad urchin, forced to live in such squalor and endure what must have been regular punishment for his misdeeds: the smothering. I did my best to dodge the harpies out front and avoid their pulchritudinous weapons of distraction. I thought I had experienced the last of my constriction-panic, but it reared up again as we shook off naked body after naked body. The fear was mounting, and I knew it had the capacity to render me a helpless pile of goo. Making one last mad-dash, I got the kid and myself into the car, revved the engine and showered those in pursuit with the dust of my hasty retreat. I felt mad with triumph, and hooted my victory shout to the world as we sped away to an uncertain future. The kid seemed to be in shock, turning around in his seat, tears streaming down his eyes as he watched the nightmare of his past fade into the distance. I rummaged around in the back seat while I drove, finally retrieving an old Donald Duck comic book for the kid. Handing it to him, I asked him what his name was. My answer was a blank stare. I had to have something to call him. "Kid" wouldn't do for anything other than a cheesy Costner movie. Eyeing the comic book and watching the little guy nibble listlessly on the apple I had tossed in his lap when we jumped in the car, it came to me. "I'll call you 'Walt Apple', okay?" He grinned. That was all we needed. I dropped him off at the local police station, and they seemed to recognize him. I told him the kid's name, and where I had found him. The locals grinned knowingly as they assured me he would be given into adequate care. I ignored the sniggers from the back of the room, and nodded to the scantily clad lady sprawled on the bench next to the window as I left. I knew my Karma cup had been filled to over-flowing that day, but little did I know that further adventures awaited us in the years to come. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

This idea you speak of...covered by intellectual property rights? Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Ah, but a little embellishment here, some humorous verbosity there and you've got the makings of a highly entertaining story. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

I have a less-Occidental view on life, and living it, than most people. I don't fear something I don't believe I need endure. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Is that the REAL reason the "dish ran away with the spoon"? I've actually never encountered the insomnia effect from nyquil. I'm usually sinking through my mattress about tenty minutes after taking it. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

He passed his rigger test, so did he reap the promised rewards? Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

I thought so! Of course, for further verification, I'd have to have BoomBoom help me in identifying the anatomy she bid us farewell with. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Another damn good story, Walt. It's rare when I can make with the funny in my own writing, so I admire those who incorporate it so readily into their stories. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Dude, I'm telling you that a SARS mask awaits you upon your reunion with the team. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Oh man, exchanging that bubble-chit with the drop of Guinness in it for a pint you can enjoy while looking out over Dublin. I can't wait to get back there.

I nearly soiled myself when I read this. THAT'S how excited I am! Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Oh, my friend...if you haven't had it from the source, you honestly don't know what Guinness is all about. Guinness outside of Eire just isn't the same...at all. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

That second wednesday in January...is that Arlo? Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Straight from a tap at Gogarty's in the Temple Bar district of Dublin. Nothing better...for me.

I started to write a short story as if from a troll's point of view, but I had an over-abundance of personal material. Plus, it was time to harrangue cochese at that point in time and I WASN'T missing out on THAT. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Sychronicity in life is fascinating to me...I was doing a similar past-reflection walk earlier this week. I don't think I could be as eloquent as you in the retelling, however. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

I think it's because all that eye makeup is rather intimidating. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

You just stick up for pirates beecause you want an excuse to wear a dress in public. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Crablice and the "icepick cure". Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

In the words of my favorite ninja, "Pirates are ghey." Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Do ninjas normally use the "guillotine leg drop", the "double axe-handle" and the "stinger splash"? Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Precisely. Plus, ninjas use cool smoke bombs and can almost fly. It's genetics. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Ninjas ARE weapons. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.

Well, they totally put pirates to shame, that's for certain. Kevin - Sonic Beef #5 - OrFun #28 "I never take myself too seriously, 'cuz everybody know fat birds don't fly." - FLC Online communities: proof that people never mature much past high school.