Bob Furlin recounts stories of everyday happenings of no great importance or are they big events that will appear on the evening news. Ice Creme, Squirrels, and Atomic Bombs are subjects that seem to have no relation to one other. However they are true incidents that shaped the inner and outer life of the Author plus made some irreversible changes. The stories are humorous, puzzling, and mystical that reveal the best and worst in the human nature.

Snakes

I do not like snakes the real deal or the human type. These events are about both types and either can get you when least expected.

"Let’s go fishing tomorrow on Little Muddy." My Buddy, Treat, proposed. He and I had bonded playing Basketball for the Air Ground Operations School at Southern Pines, North Carolina. He was a great player and I played. Treat prided himself on his Indian heritage, said that he was an Arapaho Indian. I prided myself on being an FBI -- Full-Blooded Italian. "Ok, what time" I replied. "Us Indians get up early say five o’clock. You going to be sober?" He says knowing my Friday night adventures. "Sure, no sweat Tonto."

I was ready but my head was banging. We travel to Little Muddy at Camp McCall on Fort Bragg about an hour drive. I would have said he asked me to go because we were buddies and enjoyed fishing with me -- then again I had a car and he didn’t. He is the Indian and guides; we stopped at a bridge over a small creek. "Why we stopping here? This isn’t Little Muddy." I said. "No but there are minnows and we need some bait." He says getting out and picking up the fishnet. He hands me the net and tells me to go over the Bridge then wade out a few feet into the stream. "Wait a minute, what are you going to do? Besides how about water moccasins?" I ask. "I am going down this side and chase them toward you." He said. "The snakes?" I said stopping. "No the minnows, it is still to cold for the snakes to be out of hibernation." He tersely replies. I go into the water trusting my Indian friend and guide.

I wade out and look up to see the Indian with a tree limb hitting at something. A splash and the thing come straight towards me. "Hey, what is that?" I holler out to my friend. "Just a moccasin." He replied. The net goes down into the water; up I go back onto the bank. "I thought you said?" I started to scream out and my Friend, Buddy, and Basketball Teammate -- was doing an Indian laugh dance. "White man you sure can move fast!" The snake continued toward the side of the bank I was on so I retreated to be with my Friend on the other side.

Power vs Powerless

or

Atomic Bomb vs Alzheimers