As I reached the top of the red pine tree I had enough sap and needles stuck to my forearms to make me wonder if this ninety foot climb was worth it. Gum Armed Detective Arborist…. The parachute was just about in reach and the strange design on it was starting to come into focus; red and black, the design could almost look like a flag but it was still hard to figure with the pine cones, jays, titmouse and chickadees flouncing about the branches as I made my way up the hundred-plus year old sage. It smells better than Hai Karate up here, though….
“Hey, you doin’ OK up there?” Cocoa yelled up at me.
“Well, ya. I think I am just about there.” Finishing this sentence was of course the cue for the branch I was stepping on to brake. I just managed to grab the cord of the parachute when I fell: Snap, crackle and pop. It sure seemed like the parachute was helping me fall a little faster despite bouncing off a few surprisingly soft limbs.
Fortunately the bed of pine needles and the chicken compost broke my landing, as I managed to land mostly on my good ankle.
“Wow, now that is what I call a landing.” said Cocoa.
“Ooow. And Uggg.” I replied.
It was clear that the parachute design was not anything real special. It seemed like it had once been the advertisement of some radio station. A “W” and an “X” was all that was included in the recycling effort to glue the chute together.
We walked back to the package, Godzilla sniffin’ and pulling on the chute, which was only about twelve feet in diameter.
“So, Coop, which associate of yours would parachute a package to you on a Sunday?” asked Cocoa.
“Well, I know of a lot of people who would fancy the idea but those folks would be more interested in dropping bombs or incendiary devices. Which I guess, could still be inside the package, but there is only one person who would fashion a parachute from old radio station banners and drop it. A total radio-monkey…. but that person is dead. Or so I thought.”
Heading back to the deck, we stopped by the asparagus patch and picked up some fresh stalks for breakfast. I picked the purple ones, Cocoa the Green Giants. Godzilla snorted up some deer droppings for an appetizer; She was one little foraging beast of disgustment.
“Ok. So can we open the package now?!” Demanded Cocoa in a mock whine of apathy. I don’t know how she emoted that particular combination but she did. It must be the way she wiggled her hips, like a gogo dancer in a petticoat. Umm, or something unnatural like that. Then again it’s probably down to the lack of a second cup of Joe that was mashing up my perceptions. Oh yah, that ninety foot fall through the pine limbs.
“Yah, lets open that after we get the food on the table. I could kill for a plate of our eggs, bacon and the asparagus. What, we have been waiting for, for over….what has it been, two years, three, to eat from our own patch. The package can wait a bit can’t it?”
“Oh, sure Coop. I’m not hungry anyway. But, you do look a bit pale. You sure you OK, that was quite a fall. How is the new leg and ankle holding up?”
“The osseointegration is still dead on but ah, its ok, a bit phantom itchy though.” I said, as I flexed the ankle and made the servos hum assuringly, noticing that there was still some pine tar on my good leg, my prostetic leg. Hey it kinda looks like Manny Rameriz’ infamous helmet, circa 2007, I thought as I picked pine cone fragments, chicken turds, pine needles and tar from my bluish limb. I’ll have to check with the company about gettin’ some spare parts.