Some may say it is no more than a yard told by some aging carpenter whose mental faculties are not what they once were. Some laughed, some said he belonged on a farm?a funny farm. However, the following account was given by the carpenter known as J.W.
It was on one of those cold and rainy February days that J.W. was working alone on a repair list given him by Chez Richard, owner of Stinky?s Fish Camp. Understand the establishment was nestled on the edge of a small lake near the gulf on Hwy 30A. As the carpenter absent mindedly plodded along with his task, he suddenly noticed a tapping at the front door. So he went to the front and peered into the gloom of the dreary afternoon. But there was no one present. Returning to his work, he thought he must just be hearing things. A few minutes passed and again the tapping. This time, J.W. ran to the door and still?no one. So he cautiously opened the door and ventured outside, but a strong gust of wind forced him back to safety. ?I must be losing my mind,? he chuckled to himself.
Some time passed and again the tapping. This time he ran to the door with hammer in hand, expecting to find some sort of joker. Still?no one. ?Alright now, this is getting on my nerves, I need to get a grip! Eh?? So with that, he dismissed the whole episode to his imagination. Then, a broom leaning against the wall suddenly fell to the floor and the lights flickered. The hair on his neck and arms stood straight up. Now, he was really spooked. And we are not talking about a man given much to fear, but he was afraid.
Then, J.W. suddenly noticed a smell. An overpowering stench of dead sea grass, salt and stale air. As he searched around the room, his eyes fell upon a figured hunched forebodingly over the end of the bar. It was a man with a grotesque and slovenly appearance. His hair was gray and black and hung in a disheveled mat upon his shoulders. Likewise, his bear was the same color but long and scraggly. One side of his face drooped and a flow of drool issued through his stained and broken teeth. One eyes was glazed over and did not follow the other. With his good eye, he inflicted a burning gaze on the carpenter and demanded, ?Give me a grog!?
J.W. was so taken back that all he could do was stutter, ?G-g-g-grog??
?You heard me you witless cur! Now give something to drink!? shouted the apparition.
?S-sorry sir, I have nothing to offer, but who are you?? inquired the carpenter.
?Never mind who I am, just call me Stinky! If it suits ya!? And with that, the old specter turned and disappeared through the wall. The carpenter fell back against his work bench, clutching his hammer and just as he was about to recover, the ghost struck his head back through the wall and exclaimed, ?And next time there had better be some libation!?
Next time?
It was on one of those cold and rainy February days that J.W. was working alone on a repair list given him by Chez Richard, owner of Stinky?s Fish Camp. Understand the establishment was nestled on the edge of a small lake near the gulf on Hwy 30A. As the carpenter absent mindedly plodded along with his task, he suddenly noticed a tapping at the front door. So he went to the front and peered into the gloom of the dreary afternoon. But there was no one present. Returning to his work, he thought he must just be hearing things. A few minutes passed and again the tapping. This time, J.W. ran to the door and still?no one. So he cautiously opened the door and ventured outside, but a strong gust of wind forced him back to safety. ?I must be losing my mind,? he chuckled to himself.
Some time passed and again the tapping. This time he ran to the door with hammer in hand, expecting to find some sort of joker. Still?no one. ?Alright now, this is getting on my nerves, I need to get a grip! Eh?? So with that, he dismissed the whole episode to his imagination. Then, a broom leaning against the wall suddenly fell to the floor and the lights flickered. The hair on his neck and arms stood straight up. Now, he was really spooked. And we are not talking about a man given much to fear, but he was afraid.
Then, J.W. suddenly noticed a smell. An overpowering stench of dead sea grass, salt and stale air. As he searched around the room, his eyes fell upon a figured hunched forebodingly over the end of the bar. It was a man with a grotesque and slovenly appearance. His hair was gray and black and hung in a disheveled mat upon his shoulders. Likewise, his bear was the same color but long and scraggly. One side of his face drooped and a flow of drool issued through his stained and broken teeth. One eyes was glazed over and did not follow the other. With his good eye, he inflicted a burning gaze on the carpenter and demanded, ?Give me a grog!?
J.W. was so taken back that all he could do was stutter, ?G-g-g-grog??
?You heard me you witless cur! Now give something to drink!? shouted the apparition.
?S-sorry sir, I have nothing to offer, but who are you?? inquired the carpenter.
?Never mind who I am, just call me Stinky! If it suits ya!? And with that, the old specter turned and disappeared through the wall. The carpenter fell back against his work bench, clutching his hammer and just as he was about to recover, the ghost struck his head back through the wall and exclaimed, ?And next time there had better be some libation!?
Next time?
