Club feud

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The 'Dead End Canal Yacht Club' held our farewell party Saturday night. It was planned over a year ago by the entertainment committee without studying the calender. With Easter so early, this function was poorly attended because many of the people we were trying to wish ado, already ado-ed.

As with most in-clubhouse functions, it was potluck. Some made baked beans, others brought Publix chicken, we made coleslaw and Buffalo wings. Columbus Charlie brought 3 dozen ears of corn because he is still miffed about our 'no farmers' membership rule. He's never been a farmer at least since he was a small boy but the rule rankles him none the less.

Cap'n Crunch is the spearhead behind the developing feud. Not the one he has perpetuated about farmers even though many club members agree with him but a property line feud with Charlie. Crunchie thinks he owns the whole canal because he has a lot more money than most of us. Charlie is an ex-cop who never paid for a cup of coffee.

“So, how are you going to cook the corn,” I asked CC's wife. She replied that I should ask Crunchie.

I was placed in the middle of a very touchy subject. First of all, my wife would not allow me or anyone else to cook so much raw corn in her kitchen. I devised a plan and took a dozen cobs of corn and placed them in the cleanest trash can I owned then filled it with water. The husks absorbed some of the water while I had another Bud Light beer. I was hiding the PBR.

The donated microwave oven that we kept in garage, I mean the club house, came in very handy. I put in two whole dripping cobs and powered it up for 4 minutes. All eyes were on me as I nearly burned my hand retrieving the steaming cobs. I put the corn back in the cold water to cool slightly before shucking them and took a bite. “Yum, that is delicious!

Two sets of pissed off eyes watched in silence. A fit of the giggles nearly overcame me as I thought of these friends of mine fuming at me for answering the challenge. Since the corn problem was solved, I was feeling all powerful. Like the fool who decides to open a restaurant because he found his Grandmother's coleslaw recipe, I jumped right in.

I cornered Crunchie and drug him over to Columbus Charley's table and forced them to sit together and talk. Like the impetus restaurateur, it didn't go well. “You shouldn't get involved, boatguy. I don't take kindly,” said Charley.

“His boat overhangs my property line,” shouted Crunchie. It all dated back to the time Crunchie and Run-aground Ralph swallowed their anchors and went RVing. Charley took it as a sign that he could help himself to another free cup of coffee, so to speak. And so it went. Another function spoiled by petty differences.

Not all was lost because most of the members have ignored the feud for a long time and the corn on the cob was delicious. “Remember to pick-up some butter. We are all out because of your corn trick,” said Mrs boatguy.

This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com http://boatingbyboatguyed.com/


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