Saturday, April 28, 2007

Dangerous Waters

Visit sleekpelt and read his review on Travels with Roscoe its all for true!

n observance of Cinco De Mayo Travels with Roscoe will grow in value to $5.00
$Cinco Americano...
This increase will take place around midnight on
Quatro De Mayo, or there abouts. KInd Regards from Roscoes favorite publicist. JW

This was written a couple of years ago by Roscoes alter ego, much of it is filled with lies, I was more of the hero, but this does not dissuade me from suggesting you buy Travels with Roscoe available with a click on the cover on the right margin of my esteemed blog. It could be said that when you purchase this book all your wildest dreams will come true, and that if you do not purchase the book for yourself and 10 friends your luck will take a turn for the worse for the next 7 years, this is probably not true and is not how I promote literature. But you know better safe than sorry . Kind Regards Roscoes favorite publicist. JW

We reminisce this tale and debate the accuracy of our memory. - So much so, that we challenge each other to describe our own version on our blogs. Josh, who pens the “My Mule” blog, and I have known each other since the early ‘70s. Josh’s older brother Charles Chadwick, my twin brother Joe, and older brother Big John witnessed the event. The players’ identities remain mysteries. Now, nearly thirty years later, they refute the truth.

One of the country’s largest city parks, Eagle Creek Reservoir is found on the Indianapolis northwest side Designed for flood control and nature habitat, the reservoir serves as a recreational area and city water supply, The reservoir headwaters at 79th street and runs south 4.5 miles to the dam near 34th street. The 56th street causeway bisects the vessel. The dam, completed 1968, retains 1350 surface acres. The primary forage fish is gizzard shad and it supports Walleye, Bass, Bluegill, and more. Boats are limited to a 10 hp maximum.

Josh’s dad was a phenomenon at buying boats. In fact, this pontoon was the first of many future boat purchases. He bought it and a small speedboat in the same summer. Undoubtedly, he acquired them in a brilliant barter. This was a typical 1970s aluminum pontoon boat - green, 16’ deck, aluminum railing, green Astro-Turf carpet, and 10hp motor. I have no recollection of seats, benches, storage, or canopy. With anchors front and back and a “helm”, it was no frills, pure boat. Josh’s dad called it ‘Annie’s Pride”. We called it the USS Wet Dream.

Charlie and Big John were in the same grade and shared an equal obsession for moto-cross motorcycles. Josh, Joe and I share adventures of backyard minibike racing, camping and fishing. We relied on our older brothers to drive. Big John drove a custom (homebuilt 76 Dodge) van. It sported lakester side pipes and rally wheels outside. Hideous brown shag carpet squares and wood paneling adorned the interior with a black velvet-like upholstered couch, CB radio, and huge-ass quadraphonic 8-track stereo (8 speakers, 4 brands). Aerosmith and Blue Oyster Cult. . . Awesome in quad!

I shudder at the following memory. Even thinking about it makes me feel like I’m swallowing a tennis ball. For on that day, we knew not what horror await.

On a crisp autumn afternoon, we boarded. An inventory of gear included fishing poles and a compliment of tackle like spinners, jigs, worms, hula-poppers, and other brightly colored shiny things. We stowed coolers for soda and sandwiches and one to bring home our harvest. We carried fishing licenses, seating and gasoline. I sported a life vest and pith helmet, a prophetic preparation. This day we preyed on Pomoxis annularis, the elusive White Crappie.

Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain.
For we’ve received orders for to sail back to Boston,
And till nevermore shall we see you again.

Josh and Joe sat on the fore deck, their lawn chairs in front of the railing. Between them was Josh’s disproportionately large tackle box. (You see, Josh was a small kid. He, weighing less than 100 pounds when on his freshmen wrestling team, owned a 30 lb tackle box.) While dual figureheads surveyed the horizon, all eyes strained for evidence of our tasty prize, Charlie captained from the ship’s helm in one of the chairs we swiped from his mom’s card table set. John and I made passage mid-ship.

We cast lines at the 56th street bridge, our little boat bobbed happily in the gentile swell. Time passed fruitlessly and we agreed by majority to try our luck near the dam. Josh weighed the bow anchor and Charlie the stern. We struck out for the inlet at the southwest corner. I felt uneasy as the engine roared at flank speed for I knew, cruel mistresses are luck and the sea.

Entering the inlet, a throng of bank-side anglers greeted us. We found the hot spot but we were late.

WHAM!!! The bow pitched down and rolled to starboard, hell-bent for murky depths unknown. Tearing metal raped the pristine tranquility of the park, the sound Godzilla screams as he tromps through Tokyo.

A white water explosion engulfed the craft, luckily sending Joe and the huge bait box tumbling over the railing and into the boat. Tilting forward, the now exposed screw sang wildly. Charlie scrambled to silence the banshee and a wide-eyed John grasped helplessly at a hoagie. Josh! . . . poor Josh went overboard to embrace certain doom. He thrashed fighting death with every stroke.

Thinking quickly I collected Joe and all of Josh’s lures except one hula-popper, tripped the engine kill switch and put mustard on John’s sandwich. I stripped my safari style chapeau and threw it to my floundering friend, knowing its buoyancy would support his picayune body. He grabbed his life raft and paddled toward shore.

By the time the pontoon resurfaced the deck held six inches of liquid. Within minutes the game warden arrived in the water cop boat leading an aquatic cavalry of emergency equipment. His assessment determined that an improperly stowed anchor had fallen from the bow, snagging a submerged stump and nearly capsizing the boat. “Roscoe, your cool headed action saved everyone on board”, he said to the applause of the embanked anglers. Later, we went for pizza.

Kind ladies and gentleman, I’m no braggart. This is but a humble fishing story. Undeniably, had James Cameron learned of this legend he would have wasted no time on that other boat movie.

You might ask, “What happened to Josh?” . . . Josh swam to shore like Harrison Ford did in “The Fugitive”.


At 9:10 AM , Blogger SleekPelt said...

No wonder you're working so hard to help Roscoe sell his book, Josh -- I didn't realize you owe him your life.

At 10:13 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

sleekpelt: I weighted 88lbs and wrestled the 98 lb weight class this was before my freshman year so I was no larger than a spider monkey, yes to pith helmets and Roscoe I owe my life.

At 9:54 PM , Blogger jungle jane said...

I want to know more about your 30lb tackle box. have you ever considered a career as a male stripper? does your back hurt at the end of the day from the sheer weight of your tackle?

my eyes are watering, Josh Williams.

At 4:36 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

JJ: We all have a cross to bare.I don't feel comfortable talking about it in a public forum.

At 10:58 AM , Blogger jungle jane said...

Josh you are a man of modesty. Are you Jesus Christ? You can tell me Josh. I won't run about the place yelling that Jesus is hung like a bull...

At 2:20 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

JJ: Nope I aint Jesus, thanks for the props though. Der Bull

At 6:19 PM , Blogger damnsle said...

You're not jesus christ? Well what the fuck have I been making human sacrifices to you for, then? Jesus Christ.

At 4:14 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

damsle: A simple misunderstanding. I do wish you would stop with the sacrafices, this really does not benefit anyone. Shaking your fist in anger at poor drivers should let the steam out enough that you come home and do not rely on superstistion to feel complete.I do hope when you say human sacrafices you mean you deny your self a warm milk before bed or not buying that fetching clutch you saw at the wal-mart, things like that, real sacrafices. Sorry to disappoint, but do not feel embarrassed and move ahead and think positive. JWW

At 7:23 AM , Blogger Mom! Toilets blogged! said...

As I remember it, and I was there. Josh climbed into Roscoe's up turned pith helmet and paddled to shore using a mascara brush as a paddle.
He was also dressed in a pillow case, diaper style.

At 7:50 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

toilets: It was not a mascara brush it was one of those little spoons that "you" use to stir coffee whitener in your Tepid Chocolate.

At 12:33 PM , Blogger Winters said...

As if Roscoe couldn't go up more in my estimation - this post seals it. The man has the spirituality of Buddha and the dexterity of Bruce Lee.

Tepid Chocolate with coffee whitener sounds like a pretty sorry beverage to me.

At 1:21 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

Winters:You hit Roscoe spot on, same with Toilets favorite after pizza beverage.

At 1:22 PM , Blogger Mom! Toilets blogged! said...


It's decaf with sweet n low to boot.

Vodka gives it some back bone, my secret is out!

Have you tried Blue Goodness and red wine? MMMMMM Good!

Roscoe Rules!

Mom, not Toilets, Toilets is a stupid name, I like Mom!


At 1:28 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

Toilets: Your on another one of your Blue Goodness benders arnt you? If you live on the left coast, its not a gabage truck that drove by its Toilets.

At 2:03 PM , Blogger sombrero11 said...

Ok, ok, goddamn it, ok... I purchased a copy of your little book, Williams. But I am using this public forum to let it know that I purchased it under protest.

I object to being charged money for words. Words belong to everybody, Williams, not just those privileged nobility who have four (4) dollars, US, to throw about in a public display of wealth. When I finish reading it, I fully intend to leave it in a tavern or bus station, or porno theater or some other low place where the underclass gathers. There, it will be picked up and handed on, leaving revolution in its wake.

When you are the one with your back to the wall, Williams, don't say I didn't warn you.




At 4:42 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

S2: Thank you for purchasing Travels with Roscoe, with this purchase you have been chosen to earn up to 450,000 dollars a year for just offering your opinion. To learn more from this offer please send around say, a hundred bucks!...Thanks S2 I think you will be happy with your purchase and as you well know come Cinco De Mayo it will appriciate in value to $5.00 with P&H plus sleekpelt is going to release a blurb on Racer X which has around 15,000 visitors a day, those suckers will be paying the Cinco not the quatro...You got special buddy pricing...My best and I will double your money back if you do not find your money well spent, I will also double this money to anyone who can collect! You will be happy S2 and so it goes. jw

At 5:35 PM , Blogger Mom! Toilets blogged! said...

You are paying for the paper, not the words, paper, postage, publishing, overhead, mark up, profit, four bucks is a deal.
If you don't like it, keep the words, return the paper and Josh will double your money back.
That Josh is a hell of a publicist, double your money.

At 5:37 PM , Blogger ing said...

This book is rapidly increasing in value. I think I'll buy some stock. . .

Josh, could you tell me to whom I should send my life's savings?

I'm sorry to hear about your heavy tackle.

At 5:51 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

Toliets: Thanks for covering my back, however I do not think S2 is overly concerned he is just trying to throw the IRS off track in the event of an audit...

ing: Oh my weary tackle, it is such a burden. It weighs on me heavy...Thank you very much for your concern. Oh the stock the Cohen Brothers own most of the movie rights and then some, they double fooled me and said I was only going to be paid but not Roscoe, let me tell you this pissed me off! They said it was not personal just business and so it goes.

At 6:51 PM , Blogger jungle jane said...

Oh Christ. And to think I have been running around scribbling "Josh Willians is Jesus Christ and he packs a 30lb knob" on all the toilet walls...

At 7:28 PM , Blogger Mom! Toilets blogged! said...

What did you write on my walls?

At 12:59 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

JJ: Mrs Toilets is going to be troubled by you admission of your scribblings but accepts your apology.

Mr Toilets: Nothing, remember that one song with all the words you used to sing...Think and sing, everything will go back to the way it was if you remember that song,yes now you got it ...If you knew Susy like I knew Suzy oh,oh oh what a gal...Now grab your cane and dance and sing! see all troubles are gone! Sing Toilets, sing!

At 11:09 AM , Blogger jungle jane said...

I think I wrote "call Josh Williams for a good time" Mr Toilet. Some twat cross the good out and scribbled gay...

At 11:14 AM , Blogger sombrero11 said...

Paper, not words? You poor rubes. I fear you are being taken for a ride, just as I am. The difference is that I do so with awareness. I do this to gather information on those snake-oil salesmen, so that in the future I might make them pay.

I have paper right now. Stacks of it. Blank paper. It is valueless. Or nearly so, at any rate.

Publishing is the business of words. Money for words.
The paper is only a medium. A glass bottle is of some inherent value. But not much. Not to me.

Fill that empty vessel with Jack Daniels...

Now you have my attention.

Fill it with Dom Perignon. Now you have something of real value.

If the government writes "First Class" on paper, then it is postage. If the government writes "Federal Reserve Note" on paper then it is money. Words into money. Money for words.

Blank paper?

I wipe my ass with blank paper.

At 11:43 AM , Blogger Mom! Toilets blogged! said...

Wow, this Sombrero guy is bitter about something.
He should hook up the breathalizer to his computer.
Free words, that's what this blog is, free words, I would gladly pay money for well written words like Roscoe has offered for a paltry $5.
We have not even discussed the art work that comes with Roscoe's book, it alone is worth money.
Don't give the Angry Sombrero my home address.

At 1:15 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

Jane: Why is it twats are always my arch nemisis? Thanks for the effort...

Sombieduo: Great work, I just hope you do not wipe your arse with Roscoes work, and by the way Toilets is in a rage because he did the illustrations and did not get credit.heheheh.

Toilets: I told everyone the price was going up Friday, it went up yesterday, cover me arse on this one especially with Janes recent info! Toliets did the illustrations for Travels with Roscoe which is wrecking our economy because the American public cannot afford $4.95 with postage and much handling. Sheez what a publicist has to deal with on a daily basis! Oh toilets don't tell them to much about the handling, mandatory signs not posted in restroom to wash hands before handling Roscoe...

At 3:58 PM , Blogger matty said...

I've never been fishing, Commander Josh.

At 4:15 PM , Blogger sombrero11 said...

Don't worry, I won't wipe my ass with Roscoe's book. That paper contains words, and I clearly stated I only wipe my ass with blank paper.

Well, unless the toilet paper runs out, then I might use the "z" section of the phone book. But the ink tends to rub off. Having a black smear on my posterior is an ugly look. Uglier than an asshole normally is, at any rate.

As for the breathalizer on my computer, I assume the purpose of that would be to make sure I am sufficently drunk before I appear on the internet to solve all of the world's problems in 500 words or less?

The written wor(l)d would be a very dull place indeed without the alcohol-fueled rant. All of the great writers were drunks.

Drunks and liars.

There lies the essence of fiction.

At 4:50 AM , Blogger josh williams said...

matty: Sir, before you meet your maker you need to wet a line,thars big fish in them seas. One day of fishing will leave a world weary sadness to your gaze, but for the better,all wisdom come to those who have fished at least once.I could be wrong. Under the right circumstances, fishing can be fun, we used to catch them hand over fist when I was a wee lad on the NC coast, but they don't bite as much these days, less fish me thinks, bad sign, eh?

sombrero11: I could not have said it better myself, however in my own defence I dont have my drink on.

At 12:38 PM , Blogger sombrero11 said...


At 12:43 PM , Blogger josh williams said...

sombrero11: Am so


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