I was approached the other day by a very strange little creature that
introduced himself to me as Skippy.  He very boldly asked if it were true
that I had the only remaining French Schneider 520mm howitzer.  I told
him, "Yes.  Why?"
 
He explained to me that he was in charge of some Civil War cannon he and
his other mates used to celebrate birthdays and other special occasions.
He went on to tell me that a very special birthday was coming that they
felt deserved a much larger cannon but their request to borrow any of the
guns in armories around the world had been turned down.  They had heard
that I was restoring this howitzer and that funds were slow coming in and
that experts in the field of large gun restoration were very hard to find.
Skippy made an offer to me that was intriguing, to say the least.  In
exchange for its use for one firing, he and his crew would complete the
actual restoration if I provided the parts and equipment needed.  Skippy
was most persuasive and by the end of our visit, I had acquiesced and
given him the okay.
 
The next day, he showed up with a number of other creatures, which he
introduced as all Skippy's!  Unbelievable.  Skippy (The head Skippy??)
also said that later that day, three more ferrets, (That is what he said
they all were.) would arrive to discuss the arraignments for the firing
of the cannon.
 
As stated, three ferrets arrived, a 'Murphy', who was a handsome Sable,
RCMP attired gentleman (??), Sammy, who said he was a DEW, but wore a
yarmulke, and, much to my surprise, another Sable who rolled up in a
strange looking contraption he called a wheelchair, who was introduced to
me as Max.
 
We had an interesting chat, with the three of them telling all about this
person they wished to surprise on his birthday with a 'shot heard round
the world'.  I must say, they were a dedicated lot, and could be quite
noisy when they all started barking and chittering amongst themselves.
In the end, I approved of what they wanted to do with my gun.
 
In any case, I did tell them I was a little concerned that a charge that
big in such an old gun might be dangerous but all the Skippy's stated
together, in unison, that they were the best and that simply was not a
possibility.
 
All this was over a month ago, and now the gun stands pointed to the
heavens, ready to fire.  Invitations to the grand firing had been sent
out to people world wide and they are all here now, standing beside and
behind this small band of now, immaculately dressed ferrets.  (I tell
you, I had no idea how bright the red was, in an RCMP uniform, nor how
white the coats could be that all the Skippy's were wearing.
 
I don't know how they did it, but the Skippy's had devised a way that
all the people and all the critters in attendance could pull the firing
lanyard, simultaneously.  Skippy One (As I have been calling him) finally
stood next to the gun, with a large signaling flag held high above the
crowd.
 
Slowly, he began the countdown and on the count of ZERO, he dropped the
flag and the assembled multitude pulled the lanyard!
 
What a mighty, thunderous, explosion occurred, as the gun threw its charge
high into the sky.  Higher and higher the charge climbed, until the it
finally detonated, well into the outer reaches of our atmosphere.  The
charge threw out everything one could imagine...confetti, streamers, and
balloons of incredible size, along with parachutes that carried in the
upper winds, laden with M&M's (Plain, peanut, Ferretone, Green Chile,
alfalfa, Pemmican, and all other popular flavors.  Even the three new
colors were present for people to choose!
 
I don't know how the Skippy's did it, but another charge went up as well,
this one carrying high over Paul Jameson's house and place of work in
Kansas, exploding precisely with another shower of all the things Paul
likes and a HUMONGUS banner that slowly descended without folding, saying,
***HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL!  From all of us, who have read your birthday
greetings, we send this one to you!  We love you!  Thanks for being here
for us!  This one is for you!***
 
The party continues on at ground zero, led by those strange little
creatures that seem to think nothing is impossible.  I am beginning to
think they are right.  How Max can wheel about and play that ocarina is
beyond me.
 
And from me Paul...Thank You for your presence here and everywhere!
 
MC
[Posted in FML issue 3791]