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#1
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Deppity Bob and the Hellıs Angels, a Cajun Folk Tale.
Too Good not to share.
dave _____________ by Matthew Schocke I have to give a speech for toastmasters tomorrow, #1 from the storytelling series: A Folk Tale. I had some spare time at work today, so I went ahead and did a thorough outline of my 7-9 minute speech. (usually, I go up with minimal notes to improve my delivery * if Iım smart Iıll lose these or drop them) This is sort of the opposite extreme of the last example. Anyway, here is a quick and dirty outline for my folk tale speech Some of the humor in this will be lost because you arenıt hearing my patented Deputy Bob Voice , but Iım likely to crash the moment I get home, so this is it for my entertainment production for the day! -Matthew Outline: Deppity Bob and the Hellıs Angels, a Cajun Folk Tale. During my years at LSU, I had the great fortune to encounter the living embodiment of a Cajun ³Good Oleı Boy² * Bob Schorr. Bob, or Deputy Bob as he was known was a tall, rangy lookinı fellah, messy short black hair * looked like he had permanent bed head * and sported a five oıclock shadow by 8 am. His face looked almost, unfinished, in some way, but it was the kind of craggy ugliness that dogs and small children instinctively gravitate towards. Bob did a variety of things. He was an engineer at an oil refinery, took a few continuing ed classes at LSU, and was a volunteer deputy sheriff in Scotlandville, LA. More about that last job later. I met Bob through the LSU karate club, where he filled in as an assistant instructor. He was a second-degree black belt who was much better than his rank * he just avoided testing because he didnıt like the attention. ³There always enough egos in the room.² I got very familiar with Bobıs ways through his role in the self-defense demos. As a public service, and to drum up interest in the LSU Karate Club, weıd go around to all the dormitories, especially the girls dorms, and he give a little talk. Most of it was common sense, or as Bob says ³Donıt go where you donıt belong.² But there was also a practical demonstration. And seeing where I was the only person in the club noticeably larger than Bob, it fell to me to be his demonstration target. Or, as I said, practice dummy. Emphasis on the dummy. I tended to cringe every time he came up with a new move for us to work on, but heıd always kinda shame me into it saying his trademark ³Donıt worry, itıll be ooooh-kay!² But it was all for a good cause, and Bob appreciated my being a good sport as I got tossed around, knocked to the ground, pressure points poked, and generally beat up. Bob was a great believer in folks being able ta take care a themselvesı * he went through about $500 worth of ammunition when he brought me and most of the karate club down to his favorite gun range one afternoon and taught us all how to shoot. ³Cuz everyone should know how.² So I got to know Bob, and discovered a few things. Fact number One. Bob didnıt know how to tell someone ³:No² if they needed help. Fact number Two. Fact number one got him into a lot of situationsı. Fact number Three. Fact number two led to him being able to tell some really interesting stories. Some of the stories were a little painful * like how he managed to get a third degree burn on his derriere from a live steam line. It burned him so quick it got the nerves before he could feel it. Some of them were a little less so the funniest usually involved his time as a volunteer deputy sheriff in Scotlandville, LA. Now Scotlandville is not exactly a tourist Mecca, if you know what I mean more like Beiruit or Baghdad. And thatıs right, I said volunteer * he wasnıt getting paid for this. They took out an ad in the newspaper saying they needed auxilary volunteer personnelı so Bob signed up. Donıt think anyone told him that auxilary personnelı was synonymous with cannon fodderı. Anyways, Bob is just about as racist as Martin Luther King, Jr. so he didnıt have any problems being paired up with BB. BBıs real name was Bernard, Bernard Boudreaux. So BB was his initials. It didnıt hurt that he was built sort of like a BB as well * dang near spherical. Well, the locals didnıt quite know what to make of a white man and a black man in the same sherrifıs car. That was a might bit unusual. That was also quite helpful when the two of them got called in right before a race riot got started and sort of nipped it in the bud. Oı course BB also regularly carried a ten-gauge pump * not a twelve gauge, the next size up, - that looked like you could stick a coke can down the barrel. That prolly encourage people to listen to what he and Bob had to say. Especially when it was ³go home². But Bob and BB got along pretty well, so ³it was all good.² Then one week the sheriff got a rather disturbing word. The Hellıs Angels * yes, the original outlaw motorcycle gang, was planning to hold one of their weekend gatheringsı in Scotlandville. Now as you can imagine, things got a little tense around the Sherriffıs office. They didnıt really have the manpower to deal with things if the Angels got rowdy. The sheriff called the local Guard unit, but they wouldnıt deploy unless the governor signed off. That wasnıt going to happen until AFTER things got outta hand, so the Scotlandville Sheriffıs department cancelled all leaves and battened down the hatchs. So all the deppitys are gathered in this one room while the Sheriff explains the situation. The gathering is going to be at the park, and the sheriff wants everyone there to keep an eye on things. They arenıt to do anything to provoke them though, because theyıre going to be way out numbered. So Bob and BB sit through this briefing and then they get in their squad car and head on over to the park. On the way, Bob asks BB what he thinks of this and BB says ³I ainıt never rode a motorcycle.² Bob looks over at him and says. ³I can believe that.² What BB said in response to that, I cannot repeat in this venue. On the way over to the park, they see a beat-up looking old can parked on the shoulder. They pull over and ask what the problem is. Thereıs a couple aı scraggly-looking fellers driving the van, but they were polite enough when they said the engine just up and died on them. Well, Bob being an engineer, he tells them to pop up the hood and pretty soon heıs got his depitty ball-cap turned around backwards and heıs elbow deep in their engine. Turns out they had a loose wire on their distributor, so Bob plugs it back in, spits out the piece of Juicy-Fruit heıs been chewing and packs it around the cable to hold it there, temporary-like. And the fellers driving the van say theyıre meeting up with some people a few miles away, so Bob and BB volunteer to follow them over to make sure they make it. So they get in the patrol car and start following the van. Itıs going kind of slow, because if you lose your electrical system real sudden-like, your power steering gets a little funky. So theyıre driving along, and theyıre getting closer to the park and now they start seeing a lot of big guys in leather jackets on motorcycles. Pretty soon they notice that a lot of motorcycles seem to be following them. Before they know it, they are part of a procession heading into the park. Bob didnıt want to run over anyone, so he decides to just ³go with the flow². So they end up in the visitor area, parked next to the van, with a lot of big dudes on motorcycles giving them the eye. Then the guys in the van get out ask Bob and BB if they want a beer. They open up the back of the van, and thereıs about eighteen to twenty coolers stacked up in there. One of the bikers asks whatıs going on and the van driver said ³These two stopped when we broke down and fixed the engine, Duke.² Since that van was hauling most of the beer for their little get-together, things got a lot less tense after that. They offered them a beer again, and Bob said he was on duty until six, so they ended up just hanging out in the park with them for a while. BB was a bug dude, but he still had a pretty good jumpshot. Of course, theyıd been doing this while the Sheriff was getting nervous and doing a radio check-in. Most of his men were already in the park, but he couldnıt raise Bob and BB. Now, their gun belts were getting a little awkward, especially when youıre playing half-court basketball, so Bob and BB decide to lock them up in the car. Right when he gets the door open, he hears the sheriffıs voice coming over the radio. ³Has any unit spotted Schorr or Boudreaux?² ³Yeah, Sheriff, I see em.² ³You do! Great! Where the hell are they?² ³Shooting hoops with the Hellıs Angels.² A deputy said in a disgusted voice. Dead silence on the radio. Bob picks up the mike. ³Sorry sheriff, I was out of my vehicle. Did ya need something?² ³What the hell are you two doing?² ³You said you wanted to keep an eye on things. Well, weıre keeping a Reeeeeaaall Clooooosssseee eye on things. Itıs cool.² There wasnıt much the Sheriff could say to that, though rumor has it that he went home early that day, with instructions not to be disturbed for anything short of civil insurrection. Bob and BB had a beer or three after six oıclock passed. Bob introduced some of the bikers from out of state to the joys of using Louisiana Hot Sauce as a barbecue glaze. (Donıt try this at home.) All in all, a fairly relaxing weekend was had by all. When Bob went back to the Shell refinery on Monday, no one really believed him when they asked how his weekend went. But I believe him after all, he was right. Just like when he says ³Donıt worry, itıll be ooooh-kaaay.² Matthew Schocke |
#2
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Deppity Bob and the Hellıs Angels, a Cajun Folk Tale.
LOL! That's a lot funnier than the story I told for that same speech
project. -- Joy **Don't believe everything you think** "Dave Gerecke" wrote in message m.au... Too Good not to share. dave _____________ by Matthew Schocke I have to give a speech for toastmasters tomorrow, #1 from the storytelling series: A Folk Tale. I had some spare time at work today, so I went ahead and did a thorough outline of my 7-9 minute speech. (usually, I go up with minimal notes to improve my delivery * if Iım smart Iıll lose these or drop them) This is sort of the opposite extreme of the last example. Anyway, here is a quick and dirty outline for my folk tale speechS Some of the humor in this will be lost because you arenıt hearing my patented Deputy Bob Voice , but Iım likely to crash the moment I get home, so this is it for my entertainment production for the day! -Matthew Outline: Deppity Bob and the Hellıs Angels, a Cajun Folk Tale. During my years at LSU, I had the great fortune to encounter the living embodiment of a Cajun ³Good Oleı Boy² * Bob Schorr. Bob, or Deputy Bob as he was known was a tall, rangy lookinı fellah, messy short black hair * looked like he had permanent bed head * and sported a five oıclock shadow by 8 am. His face looked almost, unfinished, in some way, but it was the kind of craggy ugliness that dogs and small children instinctively gravitate towards. Bob did a variety of things. He was an engineer at an oil refinery, took a few continuing ed classes at LSU, and was a volunteer deputy sheriff in Scotlandville, LA. More about that last job later. I met Bob through the LSU karate club, where he filled in as an assistant instructor. He was a second-degree black belt who was much better than his rank * he just avoided testing because he didnıt like the attention. ³There always enough egos in the room.² I got very familiar with Bobıs ways through his role in the self-defense demos. As a public service, and to drum up interest in the LSU Karate Club, weıd go around to all the dormitories, especially the girls dorms, and he give a little talk. Most of it was common sense, or as Bob says ³Donıt go where you donıt belong.² But there was also a practical demonstration. And seeing where I was the only person in the club noticeably larger than Bob, it fell to me to be his demonstration target. Or, as I said, practice dummy. Emphasis on the dummy. I tended to cringe every time he came up with a new move for us to work on, but heıd always kinda shame me into itS saying his trademark ³Donıt worry, itıll be ooooh-kay!² But it was all for a good cause, and Bob appreciated my being a good sport as I got tossed around, knocked to the ground, pressure points poked, and generally beat up. Bob was a great believer in Ofolks being able ta take care a themselvesı * he went through about $500 worth of ammunition when he brought me and most of the karate club down to his favorite gun range one afternoon and taught us all how to shoot. ³Cuz everyone should know how.² So I got to know Bob, and discovered a few things. Fact number One. Bob didnıt know how to tell someone ³:No² if they needed help. Fact number Two. Fact number one got him into a lot of Osituationsı. Fact number Three. Fact number two led to him being able to tell some really interesting stories. Some of the stories were a little painful * like how he managed to get a third degree burn on his derriere from a live steam line. It burned him so quick it got the nerves before he could feel it. Some of them were a little less soS the funniest usually involved his time as a volunteer deputy sheriff in Scotlandville, LA. Now Scotlandville is not exactly a tourist Mecca, if you know what I meanS more like Beiruit or Baghdad. And thatıs right, I said volunteer * he wasnıt getting paid for this. They took out an ad in the newspaper saying they needed Oauxilary volunteer personnelı so Bob signed up. Donıt think anyone told him that Oauxilary personnelı was synonymous with Ocannon fodderı. Anyways, Bob is just about as racist as Martin Luther King, Jr. so he didnıt have any problems being paired up with BB. BBıs real name was Bernard, Bernard Boudreaux. So BB was his initials. It didnıt hurt that he was built sort of like a BB as well * dang near spherical. Well, the locals didnıt quite know what to make of a white man and a black man in the same sherrifıs car. That was a might bit unusual. That was also quite helpful when the two of them got called in right before a race riot got started and sort of nipped it in the bud. Oı course BB also regularly carried a ten-gauge pump * not a twelve gauge, the next size up, - that looked like you could stick a coke can down the barrel. That prolly encourage people to listen to what he and Bob had to say. Especially when it was ³go home². But Bob and BB got along pretty well, so ³it was all good.² Then one week the sheriff got a rather disturbing word. The Hellıs Angels * yes, the original outlaw motorcycle gang, was planning to hold one of their Oweekend gatheringsı in Scotlandville. NowS as you can imagine, things got a little tense around the Sherriffıs office. They didnıt really have the manpower to deal with things if the Angels got rowdy. The sheriff called the local Guard unit, but they wouldnıt deploy unless the governor signed off. That wasnıt going to happen until AFTER things got outta hand, so the Scotlandville Sheriffıs department cancelled all leaves and battened down the hatchs. So all the deppitys are gathered in this one room while the Sheriff explains the situation. The gathering is going to be at the park, and the sheriff wants everyone there to keep an eye on things. They arenıt to do anything to provoke them though, because theyıre going to be way out numbered. So Bob and BB sit through this briefing and then they get in their squad car and head on over to the park. On the way, Bob asks BB what he thinks of this and BB says ³I ainıt never rode a motorcycle.² Bob looks over at him and says. ³I can believe that.² What BB said in response to that, I cannot repeat in this venue. On the way over to the park, they see a beat-up looking old can parked on the shoulder. They pull over and ask what the problem is. Thereıs a couple aı scraggly-looking fellers driving the van, but they were polite enough when they said the engine just up and died on them. Well, Bob being an engineer, he tells them to pop up the hood and pretty soon heıs got his depitty ball-cap turned around backwards and heıs elbow deep in their engine. Turns out they had a loose wire on their distributor, so Bob plugs it back in, spits out the piece of Juicy-Fruit heıs been chewing and packs it around the cable to hold it there, temporary-like. And the fellers driving the van say theyıre meeting up with some people a few miles away, so Bob and BB volunteer to follow them over to make sure they make it. So they get in the patrol car and start following the van. Itıs going kind of slow, because if you lose your electrical system real sudden-like, your power steering gets a little funky. So theyıre driving along, and theyıre getting closer to the park and now they start seeing a lot of big guys in leather jackets on motorcycles. Pretty soon they notice that a lot of motorcycles seem to be following them. Before they know it, they are part of a procession heading into the park. Bob didnıt want to run over anyone, so he decides to just ³go with the flow². So they end up in the visitor area, parked next to the van, with a lot of big dudes on motorcycles giving them the eye. Then the guys in the van get out ask Bob and BB if they want a beer. They open up the back of the van, and thereıs about eighteen to twenty coolers stacked up in there. One of the bikers asks whatıs going on and the van driver said ³These two stopped when we broke down and fixed the engine, Duke.² Since that van was hauling most of the beer for their little get-together, things got a lot less tense after that. They offered them a beer again, and Bob said he was on duty until six, so they ended up just hanging out in the park with them for a while. BB was a bug dude, but he still had a pretty good jumpshot. Of course, theyıd been doing this while the Sheriff was getting nervous and doing a radio check-in. Most of his men were already in the park, but he couldnıt raise Bob and BB. Now, their gun belts were getting a little awkward, especially when youıre playing half-court basketball, so Bob and BB decide to lock them up in the car. Right when he gets the door open, he hears the sheriffıs voice coming over the radio. ³Has any unit spotted Schorr or Boudreaux?² ³Yeah, Sheriff, I see Oem.² ³You do! Great! Where the hell are they?² ³Shooting hoops with the Hellıs Angels.² A deputy said in a disgusted voice. Dead silence on the radio. Bob picks up the mike. ³Sorry sheriff, I was out of my vehicle. Did ya need something?² ³What the hell are you two doing?² ³You said you wanted to keep an eye on things. Well, weıre keeping a Reeeeeaaall Clooooosssseee eye on things. Itıs cool.² There wasnıt much the Sheriff could say to that, though rumor has it that he went home early that day, with instructions not to be disturbed for anything short of civil insurrection. Bob and BB had a beer or three after six oıclock passed. Bob introduced some of the bikers from out of state to the joys of using Louisiana Hot Sauce as a barbecue glaze. (Donıt try this at home.) All in all, a fairly relaxing weekend was had by all. When Bob went back to the Shell refinery on Monday, no one really believed him when they asked how his weekend went. But I believe himS after all, he was right. Just like when he says ³Donıt worry, itıll be ooooh-kaaay.² Matthew Schocke |
#3
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Deppity Bob and the Hellıs Angels, a Cajun Folk Tale.
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