This tale started at a Hoedown. After dedicating a lot of time at the
S.L.U.T. Bar on Friday night, Michelle (my daughter) and I had snuck away from
the Saturday afternoon activities to get a little nap. Michelle hadn’t bought the Safari yet, so she
was still sleeping in a tent. It was a
very pleasant sunny California day, so I was napping with the doors to the van
wide open. Someone was messing around
with Paul Wack on Friday night with a rubber chicken. It has a motion detector in it that triggers
it to play the “Chicken Dance Song” when it is disturbed. And we all know how
much Paul just loved to hear that song play.
So now Paul is cruising around with this music playing rubber chicken
when he comes into our camp. A quick
look around and he spots Michelle asleep in her tent.
We have known and been friends with Paul for
over 15 years, and have always made it a policy in our family to go out
of our way to mess with Wacko when ever the opportunity presents itself. Michelle, being a second generation vanner,
was very good at following policy. Now
Paul sees a chance to get a little justice for past transgressions.
He promptly marches up to tent and
chucks the rubber gizmo through the tent flaps in with the sleeping
Michelle. I don’t care who you are, but
I don’t know of too many people that can stay asleep next to a contraption
going “Buck-aBuck Buck abuck” at around 85 decibels next to your head. So Paul achieves the desired results,
Michelle wakes up yelling all the while searching around for what ever is
playing that G#@& Chicken
Song. She finds the offensive, device
and expels it from the tent. All to
Wacko’s cackling Laughter.
He is delighted and now has his chicken
back. Viewing my open van doors and the
napping occupant inside, Paul proceeds to repeat the process he inflected on
Michelle. I of course wake up in a frantic search for the source of the
diabolical music machine. Upon finding it, immediately hurl it out through the
open doors towards the other side of camp with all of the proper verbal
adjectives added. Paul retrieves his
rubber chicken and merrily leaves our camp, contented.
After a great Hoedown comes to a
close, Michelle and I now have four months until King City, in which to plot
our course of revenge. Wacko almost
always attends the West Coast Nationals in King City, CA. We have found out that this year Paul is
going to “F.A.R.T. “ truck it to KC (Fly
and rent truck). We gather our materials
and get everything ready for the weekend.
We arrive on Friday,
and start to party down. It is a little chilly out and everyone is
mostly all tucked in by 1 am. Michelle and I agree to meet at 3:30am to deliver
Paul’s supprise. We have constructed
signs with magnetic strips on the backside to place on his rental van after he
retires for the evening. The signs cover
all four sides of the van and
they declare to everyone that you are now at Paul’s Chicken
Ranch. Michelle had found some graphic
images of chickens on the internet and printed out 200 of them. We have glued
sticks to them and are planting them in the ground all around Paul’s
rental and Northwest’s camp site. Sometimes plans will take unexpected twists
and turns.
After carefully and very quietly
placing our signs and setting out all of our chickens, Michelle and I call it
mission accomplished , and retire to our vans.
All of the others Vanners camped around Wacko are much earlier risers in
the morning than he is. They arise to discover the signs and scattered chickens
and decide to add to the presentation.
When Wacko gets up, he opens the
van doors to find all of the Northwest crew lined up in their lawn chairs
facing his van, and is surrounded by all of the chicken in his farmyard. These hens have been very productive
overnight as evidenced by the broken eggshells scattered all about. The Northwest Vanners are all cheering and
applauding as Paul begins to read his signs and explore his farmyard.
Around noon Michelle and I have wandered over
towards the games area. We are standing
and talking to Mike from Parsec Vans out of Tucson, AZ. Paul spots us, and heads in our direction. He
walks up and gives Michelle a big hug and then shakes my hand. “OK you guys
really got me back”. “That was really funny when I got up this morning to
everyone cheering and all of the chickens and eggshells.” We exchange several more pleasantries and
Paul says “ See ya later, I am going to the games area.” As Paul leaves us, our heads swivel as if
both are mounted on the same motor, as watch as Wacko walks off. When he gets about 300 ft away, in unison our
heads turn back towards each other. Michelle says, “He thinks it is over.” I
say, “OH NO, It ain’t over until WE say it is over.” Michelle says, ”That’s right He has only
begun to receive his payback!” At this
point Mike takes a full step backwards out of our conversation circle, to avoid
the dripping venom. And says ”WOW, remind me to never get on both of your bad
sides at the same time! In fact I want
to stay firmly on your good side. “I am
stopping at the winery on my way home this weekend, what kind do you want and
how many bottles? ” We both laugh and
say, “that’s OK Mike, you are still one of the good guys, so far.”
For that afternoon we had arranged
to have access into the dance hall area to hang up some more signs. At the dance that evening, everyone upon
entering, received a pin on badge advertising Paul’s Chicken Ranch with many
different slogans. “Happy chicks are
Paul’s chicks”. “Get yer Yolk at Wacko’s”. “ Paul’s hens lay more eggs”. “Get your feathers fluffed at Paul’s”. “The best chicken wrangler is Wacko”. “Get ruffled at Paul’s Chicken Ranch”. “Our rooster never misses at Paul’s”. “What the Cluck-Go to Paul’s”.
“You’ll crow about Paul’s Chicken Ranch”. “Never any hen pecking at Wacko’s”. “Paul’s hens are contented hens”. At the dance, everywhere Wacko goes or looks
there is advertising for Paul’s Chicken Ranch. On the walls, by the band, on
every person, above the porcelain fixtures in the restrooms, everywhere!
The most
requested song for the evening was the Chicken Dance song. Every lady in attendance that evening
insisted on dancing with Paul to the Chicken Dance song.
What a wonderful evening. I love it when a plan comes
together!
As we plod
through life, no mater how we plan and scheme, some times we get unexpected and
unintended results. Saturday morning after Paul awakened to his new Chicken
Ranch, and looked at all of the signs
and decorations, Little by little all of the chicken signs on display were
disappearing. By late Saturday afternoon
nothing was left by Wacko’s rental van. It was as if a magic clean up crew had
swept through camp and removed everything.
I didn’t
see Paul again that next year until Corn Cob Campout, which is always held on
Labor Day weekend, at the end of summer. After exchanging greetings and
hoisting our first beer together, Paul says “Billo, you and Michelle really did me dirty”!
But Paul, what do you mean? It wasn’t that bad, only that
one day at King City. Paul says, “No,
you don’t understand. After King City
last year everyone from the northwest took
ALL of the chickens and signs with them”. “Hell, I think they even brought back the
broken eggs shells too!” I’m starting
to grin now. “ Why Paul, what happened?” I asked. Paul then explains that since King City at
every party during the winter, and every camp out or van run during the summer,
someone always put out a couple of those damn chickens in his camp or on a room
door after he has retired for the evening! The chicken song haunts him
everywhere. He always awakes in the
morning to find chickens and egg shells in his camp or in the hallway! I am starting to chuckle. Paul further
details that at every dance, half the time they are requested to play that damn
Chicken Dance Song that he now hates more than Country and Western music. I
am now laughing out loud. Paul is
getting suspicious that this is a continuation of the original prank.
I spent the
next ½ hour trying to convince Paul that he was indeed a victim of unintended
circumstances. That neither Michelle or
I had culpability for any events that had occurred to him since our prank at
King City. All the while trying to stifle my laughter. I still don’t know if I convinced him.
Paul
married Sue and we were not able to attend the Nuptials. We found out that they were going to come to
the next Hoedown. So we decided to give
them a surprise Chicken themed wedding reception Saturday afternoon at the
Hoedown. We enjoyed a very pleasant
afternoon of champagne and wedding cake. A lot of people from California who
also could not attend their wedding, brought gifts all had something to do with
Chickens. During the opening of the
presents, one of them was a chicken hat. I tell Paul “It wasn’t me, I swear.”
Paul smiles and says, “ I just do not care anymore, chicken me all you
want!” And promptly puts on the hat.
This sets the scene for one of my most cherished photographs.
$20 of wedding
cake
$60 of champagne
Wacko’s head up a chicken’s ass
Priceless !
Gawwwd! Nice
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