But That's an Otter Story

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This tale takes place way back in 1962 in the little town of United, located somewhere in the backwaters of central Florida. United wasn't much of a town, a gas station, post office, a grocery store, and Rosie's (the local beer bar), that was about it. Two brothers (a couple of rednecks named Glenn and John), lived in a shack on the edge of a small lake just outside of town, and this is their story.

Now one of the things United had going for it was the biggest junkyard in the county, where Glenn and John both worked. The other was the local chapter of motorcycle club called the Snakes, of which Glenn and John were members. (Glenn rode a '49 Panhead that had seen better days, John a rusty Indian, that if you hammered the dents out of the fenders and threw a coat of paint on it would probably be worth good money nowadays.)

The boys would sometimes stop by Rosie's after getting off work to tip a few with their fellow Snakes, but more often than not Glenn and John could be found in the lot out back of their shack, tinkering around with one or another of their inventions. The boys had built an airboat powered by an old Chevy six that was surprisingly fast and didn't leak too much, and a black powder cannon made out of a truck axle that could shoot a steel ball halfway through a twelve inch thick palm tree trunk.

Now one of their buddies was an old trapper nicknamed Otter, a lanky guy with a sunken chin and a bristly grey moustache. Otter lived in a cabin across the lake, but when out walking his trap line would often stop by to see what Glenn and John were up to, bringing along a jug of white lightning just to be sociable.

Their latest project was an enormous catapult. The boys were busy welding together old leaf-springs from half a dozen wrecks, attaching steel beams and assorted pulleys and cables, while sipping a few PBRs and listening to Country Western (real Country Western, not this phony Nashville stuff they have nowadays) on an old car radio they had hooked up to a battery scavenged from the junkyard.

"So, what you boys gonna launch with it when you're done with it?" Otter asked.

"I was thinkin' we might build us a space capsule." Glenn replied.

"You want some 'shine?" Otter said, offering the jug.

"Don't mind if I do." Glenn replied, taking a sip.

Space exploration was all in the news back then. Why just in the past last year NASA had launched Gus Grissom and that Yankee boy Alan Shepard up there on suborbital flights. And United wasn't all that far from Cape Canaveral, so it was only natural that the boys would want to build them a capsule.

"You don't think you're actually gonna be able to launch a capsule inta outer space with that thing, do ya?" Otter asked.

"Hell no, whatcha think I am, stupid or something? I just wanta see what it's like to be up in the air in one of them things. Launch it up over the lake maybe a hunnert feet, then a splash-down landing in the water. Then you can ride out in the swamp boat and pick us up, just like the NASA boys do."

Glen and John finished their catapult a few days later, then welded together a capsule from scrap metal scavenged from old car hoods and tops, with a couple bucket seats from a wrecked MG inside. (Now I don't know if it's true or not, but some folks down in United say this was actually the first ever built two-man capsule, and that NASA copied the boy's design to build their own Gemini capsules a few years later.)

Soon it was the day of the big launch. Glenn and John invited Otter, their fellow Snakes, and all the folks in town out to watch the big event. The Snakes brought a keg of beer, the boys fired up the barbeque pit, and everyone was in a fine mood a couple hours later when Glenn and John climbed up into the capsule perched on the end of the catapult. The Snakes agreed to help with the launch, hauling on the winches until the catapult was bent all the way back and the hook latched into the trip lever, which was made from a six foot long steel I-beam.

The crowd chanted the count down "... five.. four... three... two... one... Blast Off!" It took four of the strongest Snakes pulling on the lever to disengage the hook but eventually they got it, sending the cobbled-together capsule rocketing into the air. The boys has miscalculated the strength of the leaf-springs though. The capsule sailed completely across the lake and crashed right through the rotten plywood roof of old Otter's cabin.

Otter jumped into the airboat with a couple of the Snakes, and they raced across the lake towards the cabin, fearing the worst. When they got there though, the boys were climbing out of their wrecked spacecraft, having suffered only a few minor scrapes and bruises. The capsule had landed on a huge pile of animal pelts that Otter was getting ready to bring in for trade, cushioning their landing. They all climbed aboard the swamp boat and headed back across the lake, and were greeted by the overjoyed cheers of the townspeople. The jug was passed around in celebration of their survival of the ordeal, and the party went on long into the night.

And that's why every year on February 20th, the people in that little town down in Florida get together and hold a big shindig in honor of the anniversary of this historic occasion,

The day the United Snakes launched John 'n Glenn into Otter's place !

So, where's the evil chicken that's supposed to be in this week's contest, you might ask? Well I was just getting to that...

A couple years ago a guy from New York named Charlie Chicelli moved into town and opened up a big factory that processed that cheap fried chicken you can buy in the frozen food section at your grocery store. Considering his name and the business he was in, it was only natural that folks in United started referring to him as "Chicken Charlie" (although not to his face). He was a mean and miserly SOB, worked his people like dogs for minimum wage, but since there wasn't much else to do for money around here, lots of us had to go work for him.

Well one time Chicken Charlie's factory was overstocked. The meat wasn't being processed in time, and some of it was starting to go bad. The lead cook was getting ready to throw it out when Chicken Charlie said "Hold on, I got an idea!"

You see, John and Glenn's annual celebration was coming up in about a week. By this time, it was a really big event. Folks would come from miles around to take part in the festivies, and there would be vendors there selling beer and corn dogs, balloons and space capsule souvenirs and such.

"How 'bout if you boys just use this meat to cook up a mess of our "Special Chicken Chili" to sell to the crowds next week? It'll get rid of the meat and I'll still make a profit."

"I don't think that's a good idea, what if it makes people sick?" I said.

"Nonsense! If you throw enough of those habanero peppers in to kill the germs it'll be OK. And even if a few of 'em do get sick, they'll just think they had too much to drink!"

"Well I'm not cooking garbage! I don't want no part of it!" the head cook said.

"OK mister fancy-chef, you're fired!" Chicken Charlie said. "Any of you others don't wanna get a paycheck here anymore? ...All right then, get to work!"

The rest of us cooks proceeded to process the bad meat, and soon had over fifty gallons of the evil chicken chili ready to go. On the day of Glenn and John's big party Chicken Charlie was out there selling bowls of the stuff like it was going out of style. (I heard that it actually tasted pretty good, but I chose to eat ribs and coleslaw that day instead.)

Sure enough, dozens of people came down with a bad case of "Montezuma's revenge" that night, and it wasn't too long before folks started talking and figured out it was the chili that caused it. Most of the chapter of the Snakes were sitting at Rosie's the next morning, trying to recover enough to head out to Chicken Charlie's and teach the cooks a lesson. Maybe a dozen locals had beat them to it though, having already stormed the gates of the factory. Although the cooks were outnumbered, they were starting to get the upper hand over the townies in the melee. That was, until the Snakes came through the doors. After that, all hell broke loose. It took half the law enforcement officials in three counties to break things up!

I'll tell you what, I'm sure glad I called in sick with a hangover that morning.

Lord, I wouldn't want to be there in that rumble, when the Snakes come marchin' In !