The Rocky Top Café
Oh, how the Rocky Top Café was bustlin' on the beautiful evening of October 10th! Large Marge, the voluptuous 340 lb cashier, was busily barking out customer orders to Charlene, whose ability to operate the various brewing machines came nothing short of masterful. The café had the best brew in town. The conversation was lively, too. Some were discussing the upcoming gubernatorial elections. Others were debating the merits of various pumpkin carving techniques. Dean Chicowski was winning the hearts and admiration of everyone with his newest prize-winning chicken. But, the centerpiece of chatter around the café was none other than Dorris Mayweather's homemade apple butter. She had brought a few jars to the café for everyone to sample. Oh, how good it was!, they all exclaimed.
And how about that live music? This week, Uncle Ray and the Whiskey Drinkers were performing all the local favorites including "The Sweetcorn Blues", "Tennessee Two-Step","Smoky Mountain Sweetheart" and their smash hit "40 Cent Meat and 10 Cent Whiskey". Everybody just loved it, especially Old man Herschel. He sat in the corner browsing through a car dealer magazine and tapping his toes to the familiar tune, which reminded him of how grand life was back in the roaring '20s.
Grumpy Frank Van Popple
Yes, sir. The whole café was in good spirits- that is except for Grumpy Frank Van Popple. He was a man who lived in a green mobile home on the edge of town, as well as a man of generally haggard appearance. What was left of his hair was always disheveled. Those glasses were so thick that his eyes looked like that of a bug, or maybe a lizard. His right hand had been mysteriously lost long ago, and had been replaced with a large shiny hook, which he used to scare the children. He was a grouchy old curmudgeon of choleric disposition, Frank was. But, hey, what town is complete without an old grouch?
Well, Grumpy Frank was in a foul mood, as usual. "Oh, how bad the year had been!", he mumbled with folded arms. "Unprecedented!", he added for emphasis. He was the kind of man who was very skilled in the sacred art of complaining. I once asked old man Herschel about him. He explained how Frank's plight was similar to that of Job. Back in 1949, unprecedented misfortune had indeed struck, and he lost everything - livestock, crops, automobiles, home, servants, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, he was covered in painful boils from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Well, the difference was, Herschel explained, that Job was rewarded in the end and Providence doubled his original fortunes. Frank, on the other hand, suspects that Providence sorely miscalculated his misfortunes. All he received was a winning Rocky Top lottery ticket for $250, which was later lost speculating in the pig belly market. He's been known as Grumpy Frank ever since. At least, that's the story I've been told.
Today, Grumpy Frank's subject of complaint was Pastor Clarence's latest sermon. It was a sermon that was intended to encourage, but instead left the congregation of Rocky Top Community Church scratching their heads. It was about ducks.
"Every Sunday morning in Ducktown, all the ducks would waddle out their doors, waddle up the road, and waddle into the pews of the Church of the Heavenly Flock. The choir would waddle out and sing classic hymns such as 'I'll Migrate Away', 'Let Us Not Waddle Far from Thee', and 'His Eye is on the Water-Fowl'. Then the duck preacher would waddle out and preach an eloquent sermon. He would pound his bill on the pulpit and say, 'My dearly beloved, did not God give us wings? He wants us ducks to fly! He wants us ducks to soar like the eagles!'. 'Amen!', shouted the congregation, and they all waddled home."Pastor Clarence had been struggling with sermon material lately. Nothing seemed to flow like it used to. He was even beginning to recycle old sermons, like the one he preached last week - "All Things Considered, Nice Guys Finish Pretty High in the Standings". It was the third time this year he preached that sermon! Grumpy Frank hated that sermon. But, hey, even that sermon was better than the previous week's. It was entitled "Vermin on the Mount", which was nothing more than a collection of spiritual reflections made when Pastor Clarence was dealing with that terrible rodent infestation in his house last year. Grumpy Frank hated that sermon, too. In my opinion, the sermons were improving, but Grumpy Frank didn't see it that way. Bah-humbug!, was all he said.
Dorris and the Apple Butter
I walked over to Dorris Mayweather to have a taste of that fabled apple butter that everyone was so excited about. She gave me some, and a conversation ensued.
"Well, well! If it isn't ol' father time himself!", she said. "Rumor around here was that you've been out of town, young man! What in high-heaven would compel you to leave Rocky Top? ", she said with her motherly smile, distributing her apple butter to the many patrons of the cafe.
"Yes, ma'am," I said with a sigh, "the rumor is true. I embarked upon a most painstaking mission last week which necessitated my absence. The dreaded 'Triangle of Pain' - an 800 mile mission which commenced by descending from Rocky Top into the rolling plains of middle Tennessee, and concluded by emerging from deep within the heart of Georgia."
"Oh, dear! The Triangle of Pain!" she said with surprise. "You mean, you went to the big city, sweetie? From Rocky Top to Nashville to Atlanta and back??"
I nodded in taciturn acknowledgment, sampling some of that apple butter. My, oh my, was it good!
About this time, Grumpy Frank sounded off. "The old Triangle of Pain! Bah! Worst road trip ever, I tell ya!" He continued on, describing how much he despised Georgia drivers in no uncertain terms. "Wait a second," he said with a scowl, "didn't you make a sacred vow never to leave Rocky Top again?" He mumbled a few more words, which not even my young ears could discriminate. Pleased with my decision to leave Rocky Top, he was not.
Large Marge suddenly shouted from behind the counter, "one large black country roast and rhubarb scone!"
Dorris continued on. Her affable and sanguine disposition was in stark contrast to Mr. Van Popple's. "Well, we're glad you survived, young buck. You know many a good men have been lost in that terrible triangle! They say that strange things happen!"
Thrust in the Jaws of the Beast
I think she was confusing the Triangle of Pain with the Bermuda Triangle?, but I didn't say anything. After all, strange and inexplicable things did happen. "There I was, Dorris, thrust into the jaws of the beast - the cafeteria of Moore-Magnet Elementary. A hundred screaming kids! The terrifying lunch lady Ms. Outlaw! I shudder at the mere thought of it all! I was engaged in the consumption of the school lunch with my lovely nieces, Hosanna and Grace. The world's best kids, those two are!" Regretfully, I couldn't say the same about the school cafeteria food. My New's Years resolution was to speak no ill, but, despite all my efforts, I couldn't hold back. "Many a years have passed, Dorris, without my taste buds having encountered the woes and trials of school cafeteria food. Overcome with curiosity, I wanted to try it again. Maybe things had changed? But, alas! A more reprehensible concoction, I cannot recall!"
"Serves you right!" growled Mr. Van Popple, shining his hook with his shirt.
The strawberry milk. The mass produced pizza. The smiley face fries. And, perhaps the worst coleslaw humankind will ever know. Oh, what wretch I am!
Dorris expressed her sympathy for having suffered greatly at the hands of the Moore-Magnet cafeteria cooks. She consoled me with more apple butter, and asked in a tender tone, "What about the children, sweetie?""The nieces are warriors! They're steamrolling over homework and ghetto-stomping their enemies on the playground, just like Uncle Erik taught 'em!" I exclaimed. "And, the conversation at the lunch table was particularly lively, almost as lively as it is here in Rocky Top Cafe! Although not as intellectually stimulating as one might hope, the children seemed to have endless knock-knock jokes up their sleeves. Oh, what a hoot those kids were!"
"Kids! Bah! I got your knock-knock jokes right here!" mumbled ol' Frank, releasing a tremendous belch.
"Oh, Frank!" scolded Dorris, shaking her head in embarrassment.
Large Marge shouted from the behind the counter again, "one large french vanilla and pumpernickel pastrami!"
A Longstanding Mystery Unraveled
I continued on. "My mission required that I next penetrate deep into the heart of Georgia. Atlanta, to be precise. There was to be a rendezvous between myself and the author of that mysterious letter of old - Cho In Kyu."
These words seem to catch the attention of Mr. Van Popple, whose ears suddenly perked up.
"In Kyu had just finished subjugating the daunting LSAT exam, sending into the nether regions of Hades. And, at his suggestion, we both commenced operations to subjugate something just as massive and daunting - Stone Mountain. We ascended by means of cable car, as was the popular choice, but descended by foot, which turned into a hour long hike. With the major operation complete..." I stopped mid-sentence in awe of Grumpy Frank.
The café grew quiet. So quiet one could hear a pin drop. Uncle Ray and the Whiskey Drinkers had stopped playing. I think even Dean Chicowski's prize winning chicken was listening attentively. Grumpy Frank was in tears. He never cried. Ever. No one could believe it. How could it be?
Mr. Van Popple sobbed and sniffled. Finally, he pounded his hook down on the oak table, puncturing the wooden surface, and spoke. "This hook! This wretched hook!", he shouted, scrutinizing the room. "This hook was the result of a duel with 'Sureshot' Larry Leonard atop Stone Mountain in 1949! He was the one who suggested I speculate in the pig belly market! I lost everything, and challenged ol' Larry Leonard to a duel atop that wretched rock!"
A tear drop fell down the old man's cheek, and before anybody could say anything, the doors on the café swung open and he was gone. Back to his green mobile home on the edge of town.
Gradually, things lightened up. Some just sipped their coffee. Others admired Dean's prize-winning chicken. Herschel awoke from his nap and continued to browse through the car dealer magazine. Dorris continued to dole out more apple butter. Finally, Uncle Ray and the Whiskey Drinkers restarted their tune "Smoky Mountain Sweetheart", and all was merry once again.
All in a day at the Rocky Top Café!
These words seem to catch the attention of Mr. Van Popple, whose ears suddenly perked up.
"In Kyu had just finished subjugating the daunting LSAT exam, sending into the nether regions of Hades. And, at his suggestion, we both commenced operations to subjugate something just as massive and daunting - Stone Mountain. We ascended by means of cable car, as was the popular choice, but descended by foot, which turned into a hour long hike. With the major operation complete..." I stopped mid-sentence in awe of Grumpy Frank.
The café grew quiet. So quiet one could hear a pin drop. Uncle Ray and the Whiskey Drinkers had stopped playing. I think even Dean Chicowski's prize winning chicken was listening attentively. Grumpy Frank was in tears. He never cried. Ever. No one could believe it. How could it be?
Mr. Van Popple sobbed and sniffled. Finally, he pounded his hook down on the oak table, puncturing the wooden surface, and spoke. "This hook! This wretched hook!", he shouted, scrutinizing the room. "This hook was the result of a duel with 'Sureshot' Larry Leonard atop Stone Mountain in 1949! He was the one who suggested I speculate in the pig belly market! I lost everything, and challenged ol' Larry Leonard to a duel atop that wretched rock!"
A tear drop fell down the old man's cheek, and before anybody could say anything, the doors on the café swung open and he was gone. Back to his green mobile home on the edge of town.
Gradually, things lightened up. Some just sipped their coffee. Others admired Dean's prize-winning chicken. Herschel awoke from his nap and continued to browse through the car dealer magazine. Dorris continued to dole out more apple butter. Finally, Uncle Ray and the Whiskey Drinkers restarted their tune "Smoky Mountain Sweetheart", and all was merry once again.
All in a day at the Rocky Top Café!
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