Mushroom Fish Pants

July 15, 2020

They stepped out of the small plane. All three of them. One fella was so big when he got out of the small plane it looked like he was taking off a pair of pants. Why do they call it a pair of pants? It’s only one thing. One leg at a time. Shall we call them slacks? So one fella was so big that when he disembarked from the yellow Piper Cub he looked like he was removing his slacks. Perhaps we was wearing the small airplane.

They walked with luggage in hand to the END of the runway. A gravel and dirt affair. Luggage was plunked down and then they all sat around a campfire yet to be lit. Shall I do the honors Bobby asked? Shiitake. Button. A bit of dried portabello. The natives arrived soon after.

The fire light. A foggy night. A firelight. Stories around the campfire. Smoke in the air. In their hair. At that point no one really cared. A misty rain moved in. One of the visitors began to cry and laugh. No one would hold his blue vest with a duct tape patch on the front pocket . He didn’t want to wear the vest anymore but he didn’t want to lay it on the ground. He was funny like that. The mist and fog rolled away and a few small white stars appeared. The giant man took a deep long breathe. Tomorrow would be a big day.

Fun times to you,
Kyle BlackCatTips Brooks

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