V18 N25

9/6: Airfest At NAS Wildwood Aviation Museum
Austin, Bob Dakota, Michael Joe, Dottie
PHOTOGRAPHS BY ALEKSEY MORYAKOV... TO ORDER PRINTS, PLEASE EMAIL PHOTO@EXITZERO.US
I
am afraid to say, I need eyeglasses. After
all these years of ocular perfection, I realize
that perhaps the time has come. Oh,
there were little hints along the way:
when I did not win Cape May’s Willie Tell
Archery contest last summer after a decade
of holding the title, that was a clue (in my
defense, the chap under the Mcintosh DID
have a prominent Adam’s apple, and really,
once all the hoarse shrieking was done with,
he was able to make a full recovery). And
I did spend an hour lecturing my manservant
Kitchener on the importance of personal
grooming and shaving on a daily basis, before
he happened to wander past behind me and
politely asked why I was speaking to Igor the
Stuffed Bear.
Most vitally, I was feeding Young Albert
this week, and instead of giving him a tin
of Farmer Miggins Perfectly Fine Food For
Dogs of Uncertain Temperament (it’s mostly
oatmeal with a sheep’s head boiled in for protein,
so sheep and cattle dogs get all they need
without realizing that their charges are in fact
The Old Fogey
Ah, those good old Cape May days... by Jackson D’Catur
lunch on hooves and getting any clever ideas)
I opened a can of hearts marinated in blood
meant for… well, never mind what they are
meant for (we have some unusual parties here
at The D’Catur Mansion). But I did not realize
my mistake until the smell wafted up, by
which time the scoundrel had wolfed the lot.
I need not tell you the effect a pound of raw
bloody meat had on the mood of an angry dog.
It was like The Hound of the Baskervilles (which
my old pal Conan Doyle happened to base on
the Young Albert of the day when he visited
Cape May one, and was savaged about the
ankles) but smaller and meaner and it took
the entire household staff and myself with
shields and brushes to force him outside until
he passed out from sheer anger and bloodlust.
But I cannot afford to make mistakes
like that, and have summoned an Optical
Doctor to measure me for the latest wearable
binoculars. I want something that can assist
in reading labels on medicine bottles (particularly
the tranquilizer I use in my blowgun
to sedate troublesome Shoebies) but also can
let me see in the ultra-violet and infra-red
spectrum, for my battles with creatures of the
night. Perhaps mirrored, too, so I can attend
city meetings and have a little nap with no
one noticing, and also because I adored the
TV show CHIPs. I also need rearview mirrors
and possibly a laser to help me deal with ninjas
and people from Wildwood, both of whom
tend to sneak up on a chap unawares, intent
on mischief. It’s not asking too much.
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