Monthly Archives: March 2012

The Giant Yellow Street Octopus

Damn dolphins…they always seemed to have a higher porpoise. I wonder if they worship Bob Marley?

You know, for all in tents and porpoise. Or is it intensive purpose. Regardless, the porpoise are key in dealing with the GYSO. What is a GYSO you ask?

I haven’t seen the GYSO in a while. The last time I saw her it was fourth of July weekend and I was bisecting the great state of Vermont on route 100 in search of Americana. Route 100 is a well known habitat for the giant yellow street octopus (GYSO) and Americana – green mountain state flavor. Years ago I remember reading that the Cousteau family may have lost a family member battling the GYSO in central Vermont. Or maybe they simply lost them in Santa’s Land in Putney.

I have a long history with GYSO. Heck, we go back to the late 70’s. I think it was around 1979 when I had my first encounter with GYSO. I was enroute to Hanover NH from Milford CT. I was piloting a vintage Ford Granada but my mind was on dolphins with a porpoise. Not quite sure why dolphins with a porpoise but I remember it quite clearly. Colorful, playful dolphins who made every effort to distract me from the task at hand – piloting the Ford Granada up Rte 91 at the ungodly speed of about 50 miles an hour (it felt like light speed). Any faster and we could have started melting the exterior of the Granada. Shit, as it was I had already melted into watching the road through hood-o-vision and what a vision it was.

So this past fourth of july we were fortunate to have a van load of porpoise with pockets full of synaptic provocateurs. There was no other way to face the GYSO.

Sometime after the bottle of green tea flavored vodka had long expired and the Hill Farmstead tap had run dry, we found a wonderful field for disc throwing, dog running and sky viewing. At that point we had turned the keys over to Bob, yes that same Bob – the miniature, talking elephant who could turn himself invisible when he wanted and the same Bob who had a penchant for tequila, long-legged blondes and driving way to fast.

It was a spectacular summer day. Maybe the best one of the year. The sun was beginning to set and there was a slight chill was in the air. Bob had already thrown on his tie-dye hoodie and was preparing to hit the road.

As darkness fell over central Vermont we began our pilgrimage south. The journey was extraordinary. Town after town welcomed us into their community by splashing rockets red glare and exploding rainbow colored chrysanthemums across the sky like some crazed qualude Lite-Brite orgasm.

We continued south when Bob, deep into another journey inside his mind decided to step out of the role of driver and climb into the back seat as we sped down route 100 at warp factor 7. I reached over, grabbed the wheel and guided us into a rest area on the right side of the road.

The timing was good as it gave us all an opportunity to have a conversation with nature and for the porpoise to clear their blow holes and refill their pockets with synaptic provocateurs in expectation of our confrontation with the GYSO.

Climbing back into our ship I decided to take a turn at the wheel and since Bob was busy licking the window next to him I thought it was better that he didn’t take the helm. Note: I had tried the window earlier and it really didn’t taste great.

We were probably about 5 miles down the road when we came around the corner to find the mother of all GYSO. There she was with miles of long, yellow and orange tentacles trying to draw us into her clutches. Every once in a while we would catch a glimpse of her green eye. That dreaded green eye.

Corner after corner I fought to stay on the road. Mile after mile the GYSO tried to seduce me into navigating into rocks and trees. I slowed our ship down to slow, no real slow. It was then I heard this wild cry and next thing I knew the porpoise were jumping out of the ship. Bob was riding the lead porpoise and yelling out, “follow meeeee, follow meeeeee.” The porpoise took over – as they always do and in a short time Bob and the porpoise had restored order. The next hour or so is a blur. Lots of bright lights, lots of hootin and hollerin. I do remember being really thirsty. All I know is that we ended up at our destination, all hands safe and secure.

Thanks to Bob and the porpoise.


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