Home > Royer's Madcap Experiences > Royer’s Madcap Experiences: Rough Men of the Shore

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: Rough Men of the Shore

October 17, 2014 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer


The icebox came late to the Shore. For many years after its invention, the Shore men continued to store their perishables in rough holes dug into the ground, covered by a mean tarpaulin.

Once, one of the Shore men showed me his reserve. I peered down into the dark hole. There were two eggs down there, a soda and a large plastic child’s toy barn. I asked about this toy barn but received no answer. Instead, the Shore man spat off to the left. “I need to plow field with an ass in the midday sun,” he said. He walked off.

I became agonizingly bored, as is my wont. There was a clothesline with some soaking flannels hung there and I knocked them to the ground. This was momentarily entertaining but then I became bored again, a little tired, and then suddenly horny. I decided to feign hunger so that I might check out the Shore man’s wife.

I entered the kitchen. I pretended that I had worked for hours along the banks, hustling huge rocks into donkey carts for no particular purpose. The kitchen was sparse and undecorated. The cupboards were thrown open in a frank way and there was nothing within. I loudly rustled a newspaper. The Shore man’s wife entered.

She was dressed in homespun and had long thick brown hair arranged in a bun at the back of the head. I had no idea what to do. And then I told her that her husband was dead, stomped by the ass. There was no body.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

We were married later in the afternoon in a simple service at the rough chapel twelve miles yonder. The preacher’s name was John Thomas. I laughed aloud at that. We decided to honeymoon in the next town where there was a hotel, a famed pinwheel garden and a lunch counter that served dinner.

And now I plow rough fields with an ass in the midday sun.

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