Stories from Molunkus Harry

 

 

 
 
         
You can now buy a book of humorous stories by Moulnkus Harry, a famous Maine Guide. Harry is the fellow that was called on at the spur of the moment to guide a deer hunter and went reluctantly because he hadn't eaten any breakfast. The fellow said to him just stuff the hotcakes in your pocket and come along. As the day went on he didn't get time to stop and eat his breakfast until about 12:30 or so. That's when he met up with Harold and his dog Kip. Harry sat down on a log to talk to Harold and pulled the hotcakes out of his pocket and was ready to savor every mouth watering bite when Kip took a lunge at him and gulped down all three hotcakes in one bite.
 
Just send $5.00 + $1.00 for S&H to Stephen Nissley, 591 Island Falls Rd. Sherman, Maine 04776 for these 10 short stories from Molunkus Harry. If you don't have the 6 bucks I will trade for Pyrodex Powder or 250gr Shock Wave bullets or permission to hunt deer on your farm. Harry is also available to speak at your Hunters banquet or any other place there is free food. If for some reason Harry can't make it I will come in his place.

 

                                                                                Here is a sample of one of Harry's stories:

 
 
 
" The Pipe Story"

 
A few years ago....well, maybe quite a few would be better said, myself along with my cousin who incidentally was only two days older then I and who's fathers were in the chicken business together were bored. As farm boys we had chores to do every day and for all practical purposes were done that day, at least as far as we were concerned. We had not only finished gathering the eggs and shutting the perches (which is another story about the skunk in the pole barn) but we had shot all the Jap's, dropped all the bombs, won the whole war, out ran every Indian and raced every boy in the county with our bikes and beat em. At least in our minds we did. Now you understand why we were bored. After all two bare foot boys sitting with our backs glued to the sap of a tree listening to a bunch of clucking chickens kind of takes the starch of ones adventurist soul.

That's where Ed comes in. Ed worked for our fathers.

Ed was older then we were and Ed had a driving license. Ed loved Trout fishing and that next Saturday was the first day of Trout Season. Did I mention our dad's had a hunting camp? The camp was three hours from our house and we were not old enough to drive, on the road, legally, and not one hundred and fifty miles away from home. We did drive around the farm...some. We would fold burlap feed bags and pile them on the truck seat high enough so we could at least see out over the steering wheel and lean with our arm on the window ledge like we were tall enough without all the feed bags. Sometimes with supervision we were allowed take turns driving the truck to feed the chickens that were what we called “out on the range”. On the way to, out on the range which wasn't really that far out but about two hundred feet behind the barn, we would occasionally take the long way around. This happened usually when our dads were not home. Taking the long way around to get out on the range would take us over about 10 miles of hot top road and past at least four neighboring farms where we would just happen by and stop in to see our friends.
This was something we did until our friends dads complained to our dads about the black marks going out of their driveways. To this day I don't know why that bothered them so much. That's where we learned to measure, as we would step off the black marks each time, a talent I am very good at to this day....stepping off, not the black marks.

Getting back to Ed the hired man. Ed wanted to go Trout fishing and it just so happened that at the hunting camp there was a good Trout stream. Somehow or another Ed talked our dads into letting him take my cousin and I to the hunting camp for the first day of Trout fishing. As I think back on this, the idea that we would be gone with Ed for two or three days, placing extra responsibility on our dads with all the extra work they would have to do with Ed gone seemed kind of strange and just where did Ed get the money for gas and where did he get the car he drove?
 Things did kind of fall into place kind of quick that weekend as we were whooshed out of town.
So after an exciting three hour ride to a Trout fishing adventure at the hunting camp we arrived to pouring rain. I don't know if you had ever been to an old leaky roof hunting camp reeking of mildew and soggy beds and a open can of old gun oil that had fallen on the floor and a few cans of Green Giant peas that had frozen and leaked down on the floor and EVERY mouse trap had at least one mouse in it but it's like Heaven!
After we got the fire going and our stuff out of the car and put away on the floor in the “sleeping area” we settled in for a long nights rest. Sleeping soundly for at least forty five minutes we jumped out of bed raring to go, well at least my cousin and I were. However it was still pouring rain by the bucket full. For some reason Ed wasn't too concerned about going out in the creek fishing for 6 or 7 hours. I remember him saying “don't worry boys it will stop in a day or two and then we can fish”. That was easy for him to say because he had something to do. He had picked up a news paper somewhere on our trip to the camp and he was settling back to read. We just sat there wanting to be fishing and looking at him wondering why would someone would bring a news paper to a hunting camp.....to read! There were reasons news papers were brought to the camp one being to start the fire and the other, well lets just say it didn't take the news paper nearly as long to get soft as the Sears Catalog. I remember one of the first things my father ever taught me after he taught me how to blow my nose was to roll the Sears catalog page between my hands while I sat there and waited for things to happen.

Now getting back to Ed. There he was sitting at the end of the table, news paper open, reading and being content with just doing nothing. That's when I noticed my cousin at the other end of the table. He had found a shotgun shell. It was a paper shell but high brass, you know the kind that would knock a partridge out of the tree at a hundred yards or so and take the top of the tree off to boot. You know the kind when you were a kid and you asked the store clerk if he didn't have any 12 gauge shells with higher brass. He would say “what you hunting boys, elephants”, that kind.
I guess I should inform you at this point that Ed also smoked a pipe. Don't know how much he smoked a pipe because I never saw him smoke one except at the camp. However he had it with him and it was laying on the table along with the pouch of tobacco. Along about that time my cousin very calmly said, “Ed do you want me to fill your pipe”? That's when I noticed what my cousin was doing with his pocket knife and the pile of paper in front of him. He had taken the shotgun shell apart, removed the shot and wad and was holding the brass full of powder in his hand looking at Ed. Ed never took his eyes off the newspaper and said “yeah, go ahead fill er up”.
Well fill er up he did. My cousin filled the pipe bowl about half full of gun powder and pored the remaining powder in the ashtray. Then he packed the rest of the pipe bowl with tobacco and slid it within reach of Ed. I guess here would be a good time to let you know the lay out of the camp. Back in the early days of hunting camps doors were not really important so I guess they thought one would be enough for a camp that size. It just so happened the door was directly behind the end of the table where Ed was sitting reading the newspaper.
It seemed an eternity as we waited with intense anticipation, but it probably was only a few minutes until Ed reached for his pipe. He was still reading as he stuck the thing between his teeth, taking the pack of matches that was so conveniently placed beside the ashtray, I have often wondered why it didn't dawn on Ed that we were being so kind to him placing everything within easy reach. Still reading the newspaper Ed struck a match and while not really looking at the pipe he sucked and sucked and smoke when everywhere. If he would have just looked at my cousin and I with our hands over our ears he would have known something exciting was about to happen. After blowing smoke all over the place he shook the match much like a dog would shake a cat and laid it in the ashtray. Well I learned that day that a shook match isn't really out. Flames shot out of the ashtray about a foot in the air. Jumping up Ed yelled at us and said some things I don't think our dads would be happy with coming from their hired man. He kept on yelling for a while until he regained his composure enough to get back in his chair to read and have a quiet smoke.

As Ed settled back in his chair pushing it back on two legs he opened the paper and gave it a quick fluff as he stared at us with the meanest glare he could muster up at least up till now. I thought to myself as I longed for the door to be closer to our side of the table, if Ed didn't like what just happened he sure isn't gonna be impressed with what is gonna happen.

It took about 6 or 7 big puffs until that thing went off. When it did it was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. Fire as big around as the pipe bowl shot straight up to the camp ceiling, The pipe was like a rocket, as the fire shot up it slammed the bowl downward on Ed's chest. The pipe stem had somehow disconnected from the bowl and stem along with the filter was somewhere between Ed's teeth and stomach. The chair had broken when Ed slammed it against the wall trying to get away from the flaming tobacco and as we vaulted over Ed's body there on the floor I could hear him gasping for air and spitting and kinda of choking all at the same time. I could hear Ed screaming and using some of those same words again as my cousin and I raced to put as much distance between us and Ed as possible. All of a sudden after sprinting a good two hundred yards or so it dawned on us that Ed was the only way we had to get home. We decided to immediately make reconciliation with Ed and ran back to the camp as fast as we could. Arriving back at the camp all out of breath from our sprint we found Ed had picked himself up off the floor, put the fires out on his shirt fixed the chair cleaned the table off scrubbed the floor washed and dried the dishes and packed the car for the trip home. We had to load all our own stuff ourselves which amounted to our unused fishing rods and climbed into the car for a very quiet and peaceful ride home.
We never saw Ed after that my guess is he used our dads and his newly acquired farming experience to move up the corporate ladder. It didn't take long however before Don came to work replacing Ed. Don chewed tobacco.
 
 
 

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