| Crestfallen from not collecting on my beer, I sped off from
the weird-looking house, and roared down the road in the Aspen with a mounting
thirst and a new purpose. How had I allowed Yogi to escape the North Country
without getting my beer, I chided myself. It was a major blow to my karma.
Seized with a powerful sense of loss and regret, I declared thenceforward
I was embarked on a quest to track down the renegade Yogi, and collect my
case of Genesee Beer.
Weeks had passed, and I was almost ready to give up pursuit, when one morning upon my stoop I found a Fed-Ex letter envelope marked "urgent," with a return addess of none other than the infamous Johnny Ward, of Brasher Falls, who, curiously averse to -30 F temperatures, summered in Marco Island, Florida. Contained within the letter envelope was a photograph appended to a lengthy and greatly exaggerated note describing his heroic exploits alligator hunting in a remote section of Okefenokee Swamp. Tossing the note, I focused intently on the photograph, and I forthwith wrote him inquiring more of the photograph. "Johnny," I implored, "do you think this was actually Yogi's home?"
"Well," he returned, my first clue was the considerable number of Genesee
Beer cans bobbing in the water aside the stange looking vessel. But the clincher
was a scratchy old 45 RPM record I found on deck of the rotting old craft
-- that was unmistakably — Don Ho's Tiny Bubbles. |
