By Slim Randles

There are times when we can tell what’s going on without even seeing it or smelling it. Just take the other morning at the Mule Barn truck stop.

Most of the charter members of the world dilemma think tank were already gathered at the philosophy counter and had had two cups of coffee and solved most of the world’s problems that occurred on page one of the Valley Weekly Miracle.

Then there was a silence, as they contemplated, silently, who would bring up the next topic, as everyone knew once the world dilemmas were sorted out, it came down to more local stuff and they wondered who would kick off the subject du jour.

It was Steve, the cowboy of the outfit, and he kinda sidled up to it.

“Had the ax out this morning,” he said.

“Ice on the water troughs, Steve?” Doc asked.

Steve just nodded. “Dulls the blade you know.”

Nods all around.

Dud then picked it up.

“Did you know they got tours to Guatemala this time of year that just go to see monkeys?”

“Just monkeys?”

“Well, I guess you can look at other stuff, like jungle and beaches and all that, too, but mostly monkeys.”

“What kinda monkeys, Dud?”

“Guatemala monkeys? Heck, I don’t know what kinds they got down there. Must be a bunch if they’re gonna base a whole trip on ‘em.”

“I want to .,..” said Doc, then shook his head, sadly.

“What Doc?”

“Well … I always wanted to go catch a tarpon. They’ve got a mess of ‘em down there in Guatemala, I think. Big boogers, too.”

“Wonder what kinda bait you should use, Doc.”

“Flies of course, Herb,” Doc said. “They got special flies for these things. Got long noses on them.”

“The fish?”

“The flies.”

I think someone from Mars could make a fairly accurate guess as to just how cold it was outside this morning.

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