Shaggy Dog
The Mason City High School was in the center section of town. The campus consisted of a central 5 story red brick square gothic building, an industrial arts building and music building.1 Between the music building and the main building set the town YMCA where swimming lessons were given. The main entrance of the central building, which consisted of a wide set of 30 steps leading to a large set of double doors, faced 4th street. During nice days, before, after and at noon time you could see all sorts of groups of students congregating on the steps. Across the street were private residences which had to put up with all the antics and the overflow of students who couldn’t find their spot on the high school steps.
As one might imagine the position on the high school steps matched the perceived social position within the student body. I didn’t see it that way or didn’t see it could be that way. My place was not on the steps to the entrance to the High School but was directly across the street at my friend’s home. Curiously my friend’s last name was also Miller, Steve Miller. However, these Millers were considered extremely liberal. Liberal means they were Democrats or far worse. They were also thinkers; people who thought about how things should be instead of how the government said they were. In a way that is why Steve and I became friends. My perceived place of myself in the high school community was that of one of the thinkers. This did not mean one with high grades; those were the smart ones. They, the smart ones, did not necessarily know what was really going on in the world; only the thinkers did. Our group would sit around and play chess or other mind games. We would read books and discuss their meaning. Often they were science fiction books by Robert Heinlein such as Starman Jones, Issac Asinmov’s robot series or Arthur C. Clarke’s Childhoods End. We also made up stories. One of our favorites was shaggy dog stories. We would try to top one another with the best shaggy dog story.
A shaggy dog story is story told in such a manner that the listener is drawn into the narrative or the story line, and then abruptly ended with a punch line that often turns on an obvious phrase. There was, is, the original shaggy dog story.2 Although it may be the original it is not typical or good as a shaggy dog story. In my opinion the Poor Conductor is a better example of the genre.
The Poor Conductor.
There once was a poor conductor working for the heartless M & M Railroad. The railroad had this poor man working 6 and half days a week for less than half minimum wage. They kept him in servitude by lending him money so that he could barely feed his family and charge him outrageous interest rates so that his meager wages could never pay off the loans. To add to the poor conductor’s problems, his wife was very fruitful and their family multiplied. He was under great pressure to work hard to get more money just to keep his family clothed. Finally, the poor man could stand it no more. He said to himself, “What would it hurt the powerful M&M Railroad if I kept every 50th coin I collect?” And so he did. And for a little while life was a little more bearable. But life is cruel. His wife again proved to be fertile. And the poor conductor was again poorer than ever. “It is not fair that I should have to bear this burden when the M&M has so much. I will take every 25th coin.” Time went on and no one discovered that money was missing. Time went on and the company said it is time the poor conductor pay the interest on the loan you took out with us. The time came again when the poor man must again figure out what to do. He decided that since no one seems to notice any money missing, he would not take every 5th coin given to him as passage on the M&M Railroad. As you may now guess this did work for a while, but only for a while and again and again the poor conductor was forced to take more and more. Finally, the conductor had to take the most drastic of actions. Now there came a time when an astute auditor noticed that a particular train did not seem to be making any money for the great and mighty M&M. An inspector was sent to see. He saw the conductor flipping the coins given to him by the passengers.
“Heads, its mine.”
“Tails, its mine.”
“The coin landed on the edge. The railroad can have it.”
With sirens screaming, a SWAT team rushed in and grabbed the conductor. “You have the right….”
The trial was short. There was so much evidence brought in. Passenger after passenger said how nice the conductor was, how poor he looked, but that he had pocketed the money that belonged to M&M Railroad. There was even a video of the conductor lugging the money home to feed all 13 children in their 3 room house. The jury only took 16 minutes to state, “guilty as charged.” Despite pleas of mercy from the children’s grandmother and the local priest, the judge said he had to follow the new federal guidelines on stealing from multi-billion dollar companies; death by electric chair.
Again the normal appeals were swift. Under the same federal guidelines, appeals could only be made each successive Thursday. Within two weeks the US Supreme Court said the sentence was lawful and must be carried out immediately. An execution date was set for Friday the thirteenth.
On the appointed day the poor conductor was lead to the small room, strapped into the chair, and asked if he had any last words. He replied, “I did it for my family!” The gallery was packed with his whole family, the press, and representatives of M&M Railroad. At precisely 1 past midnight, the switch was thrown.
Nothing happened.
There was all sorts of scurrying and the switch was thrown again.
Nothing happened.
The chief electrician was brought in. “Not enough power. Turn off all un-necessary electricity. Throw the switch.”
Nothing happened.
“Divert all power to this switch. Throw the switch.”
Nothing happened.
“Divert all power from the town to this switch.” A great humming is heard. “Throw the switch.”
Nothing happened.
“Divert all the power from the state.” Three coal burning plants and the Alfred E. Neuman Safe Atomic Energy Power Plant (AENSAEPP) diverted their power to the prison. A great roar was heard. Sparks flew from the switch. “Throw the switch”
A great green light was emitted from the electric chair. All held their breath. But nothing happened to the man sitting in the chair.
A cry was heard from the warden, “Why won’t this man die?
A small voice in the gallery was heard, “He is a poor conductor.”
If told correctly, there should be a load groan from the listeners. It was this groan we strived for in our daily meeting on the Steve Miller’s front steps across from the high school. I don’t think The Poor Conductor was one of our stories, but we thought we could equal it. I remember one about Ker-Plop gun boat that one of the group made up. Something about an involved story about making a gun that finally goes ker-plop in the end. I had my contributions. One of which I offer here.
Before telling this story, I did use this skill in catching, or in helping catch, the Safta (grandmother in Hebrew) of my grandchildren. It involved an Indian gentleman’s, B. Mival, trials and tribulations of rushing through town to make an important date. The last line was B. Mival in time.
W.K. Miller’s Shaggy Dog story
There was a young man, Frank, from the village of Warmsdorf. Frank was not one your top German scientist. In fact Frank had a difficult time making it through his secondary exams. Nor was Frank a great athlete. Frank was not a great lover. There was one attribute that Frank had in which he could legitimately claim some distinction. He could out drink anyone in the village. The people of the village of Warmsdorf were very proud of their drinking abilities. Contests were regularly held to see who could drink the most beer. And Frank constantly won them all. All over his house he had trophy steins indicating 1st place in this and that contest. The people of Warmsdorm were proud of Frank and bragged about his abilities where ever they went.
People in surrounding communities did not take well to this constant bragging. Eventually a contest was held with the surrounding villages with 10 contestants determine to drink more beer than Frank. Twenty steins were set in front of each contestant. At the sound of a glockenspiel the men began to drink. As each stein was emptied, it was filled. The last man standing was declared the winner. In 4 hours and a 156 steins later, Frank was ready for his next stein, but he was the only one.
Now Frank’s reputation spread through out Sachsen Anhalt Federal State. A general contest for the Federal State for champion beer drinker was set for Octorfest. Again steins were set before the contestants and again the glockenspiel started the drinking. And again after 8 hours Frank stood, not seated, among of pile of men in a drunken stupor. Frank said he did not even feel the least bit tipsy.
Now Frank’s reputation was really beginning to spread. Scientist from all over the republic came to investigate this curiosity. Bragging for the village could not be contained. They said no one in all of Germany could out drink Frank. In fact, no one in Europe could out drink Frank. This did not set well with the French who always felt that they were the real connoisseurs of liquor including beer. They secretly set out to find someone to match Frank’s ability.
Meanwhile, Germany was all a buzz with what this man could do with beer in a stein. To be sure he was the one. A contest was set for all of Germany. It again was set for the next Octoberfest. This time Frank has some real competition. A man named Schultz form Baden-baden was said to be waiting for Frank. Schultz could drink for days and not feel anything. Octoberfest came, the glockenspiel rang, and by the end of the first day Frank and Schultz and two others were still going strong. It took a team of 20 men to keep the steins filled. By the end of the second day Frank, Schultz and one other man were still drinking away. By the end of the first week of Octoberfest, it was just Frank and Schultz. But there seemed no end in sight. The steins were doubled in size and then tripled in size. There was now concern in Warmsdorm, had Frank met his match?
On the last day of Octoberfest the bells in the Abbey of Warmsdorm rang out, Frank was standing, Schultz was laying. Frank was king of beer in all of Germany.
The French did not wait for the celebration to end. They challenged. No one could out drink the French. They had been carefully watching the proceedings between Frank and Schultz. They set rules. Only one glass each, a giant glass each, a giant stein and a giant wine glass. The French would drink wine, the German would drink beer. Each would have the same alcohol content. Each would have to drink their specified amount in 20 minuets before the containers would be filled again.
No problem said Frank.
At a massive football stadium on the French Germany border, the two men met. The were each perched on 30 foot high chairs next to a 30 foot high stein and a 30 foot high wine glass. Each had a 30 foot straw that went to the bottom of their individual container. The stadium was hushed. No glockenspiel this day. A simple bell from eight year old girl from Belgium started the contest.
Sucking fast and furious Frank was determined to destroy this Frenchmen in the first 20 minuets. He needed a break between the time he finished the first stein and the time they would take to refill it. He needed to pee. Suck, suck, suck. “Almost down to the bottom. Must get this last bit.” Frank leaned way over. And fell into the beer.
The little Belgium girl looked up and said, “Look mommy, Frankenstein.”