I was strolling through the backyard yesterday. I was very careful not to leave footprints in the snow since I did not want any squirrels tracking me. They look for nuts in the winter, you know. I did not enjoy the idea of becoming a trophy over some squirrelly family's fireplace while they roasted chestnuts or whatever in it. As I walked I must have stumbled into a warp in the very fabric of space-time or whatever and ended up in a town surrounded by a lake on all sides, except the top. I checked out the warp and found that I could come and go as I pleased, so I decided to visit for awhile.
I was accosted by a young married couple and was invited into their home for the afternoon meal. They apparently were used to warped strangers dropping in now and then and were very at ease an eager to tell about their town. It was named Lake Nuncansee and was founded by illiterate Catholic missionaries. Once these pioneers learned how to read they began reading the Bible and became Lutherans. They immediately offered a tuna casserole as a burnt offering and proceeded to settle the town. The town and the surrounding lake were located in Lawst County of the state of Connectichusetts. Hence they could never really place their little town on the map, so to speak. But that was fine with them. They managed to take care of all their needs and grew fairly prosperous and greatly happy as time went on. The town had quite a history that I am sure will come out as we go along with these letters.
One thing really struck me as interesting. At first almost everyone who settled there was suspicious of everyone else. Secret agencies began to spring up. Curiously enough, two of these agencies were known as the CIA and the FBI. Soon however, it became apparent that CIA really stood for Caught In the Act and FBI was an agency that was Forever Bungling Investigations and they, along with all the other secret agencies, quickly died out and were replaced to this day by trust and love. No doors were locked and they only keys in the whole town were those found on a piano. Not that the town did not have problems, as you will see in future stories, but they managed to solve them with wit, humor and love.
I asked my host and hostess, Philboyd Studge and his wife, Vanilla if there were any of those Norwegian Bachelor Farmers I had heard about on Garrison Keillor's radio program and they said there weren't. Everyone was married, although there were a few Swedish meatballs in the town. They then told me about the town government. Or at least about the mayor. He was an Englishman by the name of Colin Lancaster-York O.B.E., C.E., M.B.E., Q.C. I remember some of the initials as being awards of the English government, like the Order of the British Empire and the Queen's Cross but the others I did not know.
Finally they realized that they had not inquired about my name. I told them that I was Stan Hoffer H.S.G., C.D. Those initials mystified them until I explained that they meant High School Graduate and College Dropout. We had a great laugh and then I said my farewells as it was getting late in the day and the squirrels, I knew, were preparing one last foraging trip. So I bid the good day and accepted their invitation to return often. I surely would. It was a fascinating place and there would probably be much to learn there. Maybe I could even teach them some things. The future would tell all.
So, I made my way safely through the squirrel hunting grounds and returned safe and snug to my computer- at which I now sit.
That's the news from Lake Nuncansee, where all the couples are married, all the children have parents and everyone is warped.
But they said that there weren't.
I was accosted by a young married couple and was invited into their home for the afternoon meal. They apparently were used to warped strangers dropping in now and then and were very at ease an eager to tell about their town. It was named Lake Nuncansee and was founded by illiterate Catholic missionaries. Once these pioneers learned how to read they began reading the Bible and became Lutherans. They immediately offered a tuna casserole as a burnt offering and proceeded to settle the town. The town and the surrounding lake were located in Lawst County of the state of Connectichusetts. Hence they could never really place their little town on the map, so to speak. But that was fine with them. They managed to take care of all their needs and grew fairly prosperous and greatly happy as time went on. The town had quite a history that I am sure will come out as we go along with these letters.
One thing really struck me as interesting. At first almost everyone who settled there was suspicious of everyone else. Secret agencies began to spring up. Curiously enough, two of these agencies were known as the CIA and the FBI. Soon however, it became apparent that CIA really stood for Caught In the Act and FBI was an agency that was Forever Bungling Investigations and they, along with all the other secret agencies, quickly died out and were replaced to this day by trust and love. No doors were locked and they only keys in the whole town were those found on a piano. Not that the town did not have problems, as you will see in future stories, but they managed to solve them with wit, humor and love.
I asked my host and hostess, Philboyd Studge and his wife, Vanilla if there were any of those Norwegian Bachelor Farmers I had heard about on Garrison Keillor's radio program and they said there weren't. Everyone was married, although there were a few Swedish meatballs in the town. They then told me about the town government. Or at least about the mayor. He was an Englishman by the name of Colin Lancaster-York O.B.E., C.E., M.B.E., Q.C. I remember some of the initials as being awards of the English government, like the Order of the British Empire and the Queen's Cross but the others I did not know.
Finally they realized that they had not inquired about my name. I told them that I was Stan Hoffer H.S.G., C.D. Those initials mystified them until I explained that they meant High School Graduate and College Dropout. We had a great laugh and then I said my farewells as it was getting late in the day and the squirrels, I knew, were preparing one last foraging trip. So I bid the good day and accepted their invitation to return often. I surely would. It was a fascinating place and there would probably be much to learn there. Maybe I could even teach them some things. The future would tell all.
So, I made my way safely through the squirrel hunting grounds and returned safe and snug to my computer- at which I now sit.
That's the news from Lake Nuncansee, where all the couples are married, all the children have parents and everyone is warped.
But they said that there weren't.
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