Eastern Bloc Cycling Club
Short Story [From the Archives]
Saved from the old EBCC Forum. Originally posted by Major BC (JRogowski) on 10/3/2013
Okay, I have a short story for you all this Friday. But before you read it you have to understand that nobody is allowed to take offense. A story wouldn’t be a story if it didn’t include embellishment and pretense. I have a ton of respect for everyone that is in the story but you have to scorn things to make it more interesting. Anyways, I had some time on a flight earlier this week. Usually I work, but some of us got a hiking offer a few weeks ago that I thought I would make a sitcom out of. We have a lot of Characters to work with. Again, please do not be offended. I hope you enjoy.
Opening scene: the back parking lot of Chatterly’s in New Hartford. The usual Friday night RFTCC Wingbiters are gathered and ready to leave on their bike ride.
Greg: Is everyone ready? It’s 6:03 and we should be on the road.
Doug: Just waiting for Roy, as usual.
Christian: While we are waiting, let’s talk about the email I sent everyone today about a planned hike and camp night together on a Friday this Fall.
Jeff: Yeah, why did you call it the HFTMS?
Christian: Its complicated Jeff. You, or these other simpletons, wouldn’t understand. Someday I will draw you a flow chart and explain. Just accept it as it is for now.
Doug: I think it stands for Hike for the Mansfield Summit.
Jim: But Doug, the plan Christian detailed was to hike in CT, not VT.
Doug: Just because you wear Ironman gear doesn’t make you right all the time. I’m a doctor and I probe things. That makes me smarter than you.
Jim has a concerned look on his face and thinks to himself “I’ve heard what you probe and that isn’t adding any intellect”
Brett: I think it stands for The Hike For The Mountain Selery.
Greg: Celery starts with C not an S, Brett. And, why would we hike looking for celery? We could just buy it at the store.
Brett: Well I just got a KOM on the Monday night ride so cram it.
Bruce: Do we have to go on this hike? I think I’d rather have my teeth pulled.
Jim: You guys should be careful. I’m fairly certain it stands for The Hike For The Man Spoon.
Christian: I plan on sporting some Rambo style face paint setting up a wire snare and catching me some wild game which I'll then ram a stick up its ass and roast it slow rotisserie style with all the "trimmings" (hair, claws, eyeballs, etc...) over the 12' burning man we'll be building.... Everyone cool with that?
Jim: That sounds like a lot of over-compensation for the proposal of man-spooning. By the way, don’t you own multiple guns, a large aggressive dog and pick-up truck?
Christian: You can’t prove that Jim.
Greg: Okay, since there was a number of positive responses for Oct 12th, lets plan on meeting and leaving from here.
Roy finally arrives and the Wingbiters disperse on their ride. The next scene is at the beginning of the hike in Northwest CT at the base of a mountain. Greg is frantically searching the area for something unknown.
Elliot: What are you looking for Greg?
Greg: I need to find a good place to vomit when we finish. It should be flat, unobstructed and relatively easy to get to.
Doug: Just vomit on your arm like you always do.
Greg: You flatlanders just don’t understand.
Jeff: Why are you wearing Capri pants on a hike Bruce?
Bruce: It’s the newest fad in the dental industry. Everyone is wearing them. You’ll be wearing them soon too, Jeff.
Jeff: I wouldn’t bet your practice on that one.
Everyone begins to hike through rugged terrain and thick bushes and they soon reach a camping spot. A declaration of who is camping where and in which tent begins
Jeff: My boys and I will be setting up a tent over on this side.
Suddenly, with disturbing authority, while pointing at Elliot, Doug screams:
I’ve got him!
There is a troubled look from all of the other hikers. There is only silence for a few, very uncomfortable seconds. Then..
Doug: I mean.. we’re sleeping together… I mean, ugh… Our tent is over there.
A few more seconds of silence follows
Greg: Okay then, I brought some moonshine when we are done setting up.
Doug: You guys are welcome to join us later for movies in our tent.
Brett: You brought movies?
Doug: Yeah! Absolutely. I’ve Mr. Simpson’s prostrate removal from last year, which is just excellent. And, I have the thriller: Removal of Bob Jergin’s Colon Polyps. This is where we slipped with the scalpel, hit an artery and just had a hoot of a time cleaning that up. Anyways, I’ve got some Jiffy Poop, I mean Pop.
A puzzled look from Roy is only a cover. Secretly, he thinks about how he can get in that tent to watch both movies but exclaims:
I’ll make the fire while Christian gets us dinner.
Darkness falls on the small campsite and the moonshine begins to flow like a pitcher at Chatterly’s.
The HFTMS hikers are now sitting around a fire, eating a small red fox that Christian shot, skinned, skewered and roasted (he is hunter, not a gatherer).
Bruce: This fox meat is great. Very tasty.
Elliot: Yeah, great job Christian. The meat is extremely savory. The thighs were a little tough but I won’t hold it against you.
Doug: No comment
Greg: I like mine with some Fava beans and Chianti.
Christian: Fox is good but spooning is better, and were getting close to the main event.
Jeff: Yeah, I think the Cote’s will be skipping that part of the agenda. He whispers to himself: No wonder why Jim stayed home.
Dinner is finished and they all head to their tents. This portion of the story is edited.
The morning is stunningly beautiful. The autumn leaves are fragrant with a hint of decomposition as the sun rises and the guys stumble out of their tents.
Greg: Wow, that was great night but I’m a little hung over.
Doug: Yeah, that moonshine packed one hell of a punch.
Roy: There was this one time, back in the Asia Pacific…
Christian interrupts him before he gets started: Roy, not now.
Elliot: Has anyone seen Brett?
Greg: Oh no. I haven’t seen him since last night. I forgot to check on everyone before I went to sleep.
They all at once turn their heads slowly over towards the smoldering fire. There, on the skewer, is a small bike helmet on one end and EBCC socks on the other. Both have burned fringes and nothing in between them except for charred bones.
Collectively: Oh No!!!!! What have we done?????
Greg: That wasn’t a little red fox you shot, skinned, skewered and roasted, Christian. That was Brett!!!!!
Christian: Oops. My bad. Who has the coffee maker?
The group is befuddled on what to do next. Suddenly….
Roy: Everyone stick your fingers down your throats and throw up! Right now!
Doug: Wait, what, huh?
Roy: Just do it! I’m gonna rebuild Brett like one of my bikes from internet scraps. Quick, someone get me my tube patch kit, chain link tool and some toilet paper!
Jeff: Why do need toilet paper?
Roy: The TP is for me later – I forgot some. Did I ever tell you about that time I was on a cruiser in the North Pacific.
Everyone collectively interrupts him: Roy, not now!!
Roy works diligently on rebuilding Brett from the fire scraps and hikers vomit. He works with the precision of a Swiss watch. It is evident to the on-looking HFTMS hikers that rebuilding things from used scraps are not just an option for Roy, but his passion.
Several hours later, Roy is finished and Brett lives again. However, there are noticeable differences in him. For starters, his femur bone is sticking out of his forehead.
Bruce: Hey Brett you feel okay?
Brett: Fowee seeb, unsoo debee.
Christian: He is not making any sense or cannot talk anymore. I say we eat him again.
Greg: I’m sure this isn’t covered in the EBCC waiver.
Elliot: Yeah, you should call Coleman and see what our options are.
Greg quickly picks up his cell phone and dials the shop where Coleman is working
Greg: Covey Leader to Raven.
Coleman: What? Who is this?
Greg: Covey Leader to Raven. Is that you Raven?
Coleman: Greg, is that you?
Greg: Uhhh… maybe.
Coleman: Stop playing games and tell me what you want. I’m busy here. Pete has me lying in front of the door so when customers enter they can pet me.
Greg, a little confused, lets this slide.
Greg: We did a bad thing on our HFTMS last night and I need some presidential help.
Coleman: What is it?
Greg: We shot, skinned, skewered, roasted and ate Brett last night.
Coleman: Say again Covey Leader.
Greg: We shot, skinned, skewered, roasted and ate Brett last night.
Coleman thinks to himself that if he just runs out onto Rt. 44 and gets hit by a bus that nobody could ever prove he took this call. He reluctantly decides to keep talking to Greg.
Coleman: Look Greg, I may be the president of the EBCC but that hardly means I know what I’m doing.
Greg: Yes, we’ve noticed. But I need help here. Brett was wearing a red jacket last night and Christian thought he was a small, red fox and shot him. The good news is that Brett is alive again. Roy rebuilt him like a Bianchi. The bad news is that instead of referring to him as Brett Murno we now call him Brett Casserole.
Coleman: Yikes, that sounds messy.
Greg: You should see Bruce’s pants.
Coleman: What? Never mind. I need to call someone who knows the EBCC rules. Hold on while I call Pat.
Coleman puts Greg on hold and calls Pat Cunningham
Coleman: Hi Pat, it’s me Coleman.
Pat: What’s up Coleman. I’m busy.
Coleman: I’ve got a strange thing going here that I need your help with.
Pat: What is it?
Coleman: Evidently, during the HFTMS they shot, skinned, skewered, roasted and ate Brett last night.
Pat (without hesitation): Was he wearing orange?
Coleman: What? No. He was wearing red.
Pat: It’s fine then.
Coleman: What do you mean its fine. Brett is now a casserole.
Pat: It’s not against EBCC guidelines to shoot, skin, skewer or roast another member unless he or she is wearing orange.
Coleman: That sounds a little biased towards your group of racers.
Pat: It’s no big deal Coleman. This same thing happened a few years ago and nobody lost their membership or anything.
Coleman: It happened a few years ago?
Pat: Yeah, apparently back in the 80’s a few of the original members went hiking and they shot what they thought was a new-born deer. Turns out it was just Wayne. He survived and went on to have a very successful mediocre racing career. So, no big deal.
Coleman: Okay, but I don’t know about this.
Pat: It’s fine. Look I gotta go. We’re injecting pregnant women with chain lubricant up here on the dock of West Hill Lake. We believe that their children will be more likely to ride a bike if they are subjected to this pre-natal . I know it sounds highly immoral but my coach told me to do it.
Coleman: Is that sanitary?
Pat: Yes, this is West Hill Lake. It’s portable.
Coleman: You mean potable?
Pat: Whatever. Is this another freaking spell check. Click.
Coleman transfers back to Greg who is waiting.
Coleman: Bring the group back Greg. There won’t be the slightest action taken against you or your group for any of this.
Greg: You mean like the Spring picnic when everyone says you’ll be kicked off the ride for not riding single file.
The last scene is the next Friday evening at RFTCC ride in back of Chatterly’s. The group is quietly getting their bikes ready for the ride.
Jim: Why is everyone so quiet? Was last week’s hike fun?
Doug: Well, it was good, for most of us. Ask Brett though.
Jim: Brett, you okay over there?
Brett Casserole: mmeunn deve blup
Jim: This is not good.
Roy: It works fine!
Greg: Look at this way, his spelling and grammar haven’t gotten any worse.
Christian: Yeah. Great point. Who’s in for a hike next week in Vermont
Bruce: Look, we havent even left for our ride yet and I've already gotten a kudos from Lockwood.
Jim: Serenity now