Wednesday, July 7, 2010


We had to take Cousin O D along, he was the only one who could keep his laptop from floating away, damn Why-Fly. None of our maps were much good. The glaciers had scraped away most of the roads, and the amazingly fast growing trees seemed to be finishing off the rest in short order. It was a good thing Chatty had driven a company car up there.

It was nearly noon before we found Chatty`s car. Sidual was standing on it. The grass had grown all the way over it. The turf mat wasn`t all that thick, but the grass was over a foot tall on top of it. We could`ve saved our time hacking a way into the car. It was one icky mold palace. I guess Chatty thought he`d be right back. Two of the windows were open. Sidual tried the door and jumped back muttering, "This is nuts." The door was totally stuck. From the smells and growls it was apparent something was living in there. We bailed. I doubt his luggage would have told us anything much in its current state.

According to OD`s laptop, GPS put the phone right where we were right next to the bridge. Fat chance, but OD pushed his way into the brush following his laptop. Sidual with a machete is something I wish I could forget. I guess it could`ve been worse. The brush wasn`t as thick as it looked. There were several large patches of pavement and even a speed limit sign near the drop off. Chatty was no help. He lost his shoes somewhere before we got down to the water. There was no bridge in our crumbly little canyon. I tried Chatty`s cellphone number. We stood still and listened, and heard nothing but birds, and water. "Shh," I said and called again. I thought I could hear his Godzilla ring tone coming from down stream.

"Keep an eye on Chatty and see if you can find something to get a sample of this water in," I told Sidual. I found the cellphone in a sand-bar. Getting it out was a little tricky though. I wasn`t about to step in that water. I`d all ready seen way too much of Chatty. Nobody likes old jello.

I heard a commotion from up-stream. Leaning around the bushes, I saw Chatty coming downstream in a wash tub with Sidual hot on his heels. "Grab him," Sidual shouted. But hell, he was already passing me. Still holding his cellphone, I did manage to get his picture just before he ran aground on the sand bar. Sidual fished him out, and we beat a hasty retreat.

Damn, Sidual looks twenty. Oh he`s tickled. He was really tired of acne, and I think he`s taller too. I hope we can get this straightened out before his mom gets home. Great, in the meantime Chatty has gone from starry eyed mumbler, to sticky faced toddler in the space of two days, and we`re left bringing him home naked again.

Sunday, July 4, 2010


Chatty misses the sheep. He`s taken to sudden, numerous naps, but when he`s awake he`s talking non-stop. Short straw or not it`s still my story. Sidual and I are writing as fast as we can, but instead of an explanation, we`re generating piles of rambling stories.

It`s a good thing Kevin forwarded us those pictures and text messages. Chatty`s weekend odyssey is starting to take shape, and what a shape?

The glacier carving through the Chocolate Hills behind him isn`t on any of our maps. We gathered from the texts that he was going home for Father`s Day. So How did his face end up on that temple? What temple, and how big is that chicken anyway? The few details found in the texts don`t reveal who took the pictures, and yet we found more hints in them than in the mounds of transcriptions.

Sitting on the floor sorting through piles and boxes of notes, Sidual looked forlorn. He complained desperately, "This is worse than trying to follow a drunken rabbit in a rainstorm with a bloodhound. Can`t we just backtrack the GPS from his car or phone?" "You know what this means," I said? "Road Trip!"