Serialization of the WACKY MISADVENTURES of WARBLE McGORKLE - CHAPTER 6 (of 70)
Warble Teaches Mary Louisiana History
CHAPTER 6
Warble Teaches Mary Louisiana History
“I have a friend in Looz-e-anna we can hole up with--H.R. Brooks,” Warble turns and tells Mary with a grin, as they travel south out of Bayfield. He keeps the speedometer of their cranberry PT Cruiser pegged right at the speed limit, to avoid giving the cops any reason to stop him.
Warble knows that some law enforcement officers are easily bribed with visions of free lifetime supplies of donuts; others, he feels, are frustrated inventors with sour-grapes attitudes toward geniuses like himself--whose envy and jealousy could quite conceivably be manifested in a willingness to cooperate in a plot against him and his invaluable inventions.
“Looz-e-anna? Where's that?” Mary wonders.
“What?” Warble asks, exasperated. “Sometimes your lack of knowledge of fundamental geography baffles and confounds me, woman! Don't you know where Looz-e-anna is? It's the home of Cajun and Creole cooking, the great relief pitcher Marty Graw, Dixieland jazz, zydeco, Doug Kershaw, the Neville Brothers, the Superdome, gangrene-colored--”
“Oh, you mean Loo-weez-e-anna,” Mary interjects.
“No, dad-burn it, woman! It's Looz-e-anna! We've got to pronounce it the way the natives do. We must look like, talk like, and act like southerners when we're down there. We don't want to raise any suspicions whatsoever; just blend in with the crowd.”
“Why do they pronounce it that way?” Mary asks. “It sounds ignorant.”
“Ignorant? It's the proper way, actually. After all, the original spelling was capital L, o, u, apostrophe, s, new word, capital E, a, n, n, a.”
“Who was this Lou fella?” Mary inquires. “Paul's brother?”
“Wench, you're going to drive me to drinkin' if you don't stop--”
“Wench?!” Mary interrupts. “What's with this 'wench' stuff?”
“I told you, Mary--we have to fit in. 'When in the South, do as the rebels do.' Isn't that what they say? It hearkens back to the old pirate days, when--”
“Warble!” Mary interrupts again.
“What?”
“Who is this Lou guy?” Mary demands.
“Don't you know anything about history, Mary? What did you do while you were in school--write love letters to Johnny Mathis all day long? Come on! Everybody knows that 'Lou' is the Southerner's affectionate name for Louis Pasteur.
“Remember the Looz-e-anna purchase? We bought the region from the frogeaters for a pittance. The noble Southerners, realizing how they had gypped the Frenchies, decided to show their respects by naming the state after Monsieur Pasteur. It was a kind of 'consolation prize'.”
“Why didn't they name it after Bonaparte, or Matisse, or Chef Boyardee?” Mary asks.
“Mary! I'm shocked at your ignorance!” Warble says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Chef Boyardi was an Italian!”
“I was just joking, Warble,” Mary mutters out of the side of her mouth, slapping Warble's knee.
“This is no laughing matter, Mary. There's a time and a place for everything, but this is neither the time,” (he glances at his watch, ignoring the one on the dashboard of their PT Cruiser, thinking it may have been 'hacked') “nor the place,” (looking up at the sign along the highway, he makes a mental note that they are 17 miles from Minocqua) “for mirth!”
Warble practically 'harummphs' as he takes a renewed firm grip on the steering wheel and gazes at the road ahead with his best steely-eyed Clint Eastwood-staring-into-the-distance imitation.
“Anyway,” Warble finally says after stewing in his own juices for several seconds, “Looz-e-anna was named after Louis Pasteur--”
“I thought it was named after King Louis,” Mary says softly.
“Are you kidding, Mary? That's an old wives tale, at best. Why would they name their state after a character from The Jungle Book? It's named after Louis Pasteur--for proving that fruit flies don't like mason jars, thus opening up the moonshine business, which played a pivotal role in financing the Civil War. Not to mention--”
“Warble! Slow down!”
“Why? Did you spot danger up ahead?” Warble asks, his head on a swivel.
“No, there's a fruit stand up ahead. I want to stop and get some cherries.”
Warble expels a long, loud sigh. How can Mary think about puny pitted produce at a time like this? Nevertheless, he pulls onto the dirt road leading to the roadside fruit stand.
Warble thinks he smells a rat. “Mary, I believe this fruit stand was erected here very recently,” he says, suspiciously scanning the horizon. “I don't remember it when we drove up yesterday.”
“That's because you were asleep, Warble. I drove through this area.”
“Nevertheless… Do you remember it?”
“Not specifically; but I wasn't looking for a fruit stand at the time.”
“Aha! You see? It wasn't here yesterday--it was built overnight, and they put up that sign with 'Cherries' prominently displayed, knowing that you're a fool for fresh cherries and would beg me to stop.”
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You can listen to this chapter here:
the Wacky Misadventures of Warble McGorkle is being serialized daily here on substack during the summer of 2021 (late June to early September).
NOTE: The second volume is the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle; the third volume (currently in progress, with episodes available on Vella)
is Warble McGorkle’s Delusional Visions of Paradise.
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