KISS MY BUTTERED SAUSAGE ON THE LLLIIIPPPSSSS.

Thu, 02/15/2024 - 7:00am

If there’s one thing Mid-Coast Mainer’s LOVE is Buttered Sausage. Also honey on the lllliiiippppsssss.

 

The Boothbay Region's folklore isn't as good as the rest of New England's folklore. Boston has Paul Revere, Sleepy Hollow has OSHA violations, and Dexy's Midnight Runners has Belchertown Mass.

The Maine complaint (HAHAHAHAHA!!!! GET IT?!?!?!?!) is that the Boothbay Region doesn't have nearly enough patriots, decapitated folks running around on horses, or dinosaurs hanging out with hot chicks. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to condense all this Boothbay Region Folklore and present it to your primarily waffle-fed brain and pray to Dog you can understand it.

Here’s an excerpt from the 1st story: Stacy of the Skies.


Let's start this out with a limerick:

There once was a woman in Edgecomb
She lost her license for being dumb
She drank too much
Liquor and stuff
And now has an airborne bum.

Stacy wasn't right. She was was from away. Not only was she from away, but she was from Florida, the land of which everything is suspect. But Stacy thought outside the box. Perhaps she was outside the box and thought in it. That's a much better way to describe it. Regardless, she had a DWI from that place called Florida, and it limited her options.

One fall, Stacy was living in Edgecomb, getting ready to go back to the humid, reptile-choked, insect-overrun swamp of Florida when a year-round business in Boothbay Harbor offered her a decent-paying job for the winter.

In the summer, it was easy to get a ride to and fro "Tha Haba" no matter the time of day. She knew lots of people and she had lots of friends. In the summer there was also the occasional Uber and gypsy taxi.

In the winter, it was bleak. Her friends were all back in Florida. She couldn't walk or ride a bike - it was too cold, too far, too dangerous, and got dark too early. Under no circumstances could she ask her new workmates for rides. There was no public transport other than Eben's Taxi. And you had to kiss Eben on the lips going into and out of his taxi if you were a single lady.

Of course Stacy could put the fake herpes sore on her lip for the entire winter like so many women had before her, but why should she have to? And the thought of giving money to that creep made her sick. The problem tumbled over and over in her mind…

Then one day when she was consigned to her Florida trip, she saw an episode of M*A*S*H. It was the episode with 5 o'Clock Charlie - the North Korean pilot who showed up every day at 5 o'clock in a crappy biplane to throw a bomb out of his cockpit at the drunken, fornicating doctors and nurses.

That was it! That was the solution!!! You didn't need a license to operate an ultralight airplane anywhere in the US!

CLICK HERE to read the conclusion of this story and two more stories (KING PHILIP’S UNISEX BATHROOM, and THE WRECK OF THE OLD DELTA 88) that are pretty annoying and don’t have a single dog.


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