#every time i log on and see folks foaming at the mouth over him

[vveissesfleisch]

absolutely obsessed with everyone putting alfred molina thirst on my dash - i see you i respect you and honestly i am with you

[davidhesseauthor-blog]

The Melon Farm

Finally The Conclusion To - The Goat-Man And Why Some People Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Spawn

Otis Melon was bent over a rabbit hutch, feeding about one hundred rabbits. He stood up and turned as Zippy Doo and Max Fly approached. He was a bulky, barrel-chested man of about 30 years of age, hunched over with a broad forehead and pallid chalk-like pitted skin. Red blotches on his cheeks contrasted with the patchwork of blue colored veins that crisscrossed along the length of his orbicular nose. His close-set eyes were shaded by thick bristling eyebrows. Protruding out of his long, stringy, nut-brown hair over each ear, were what appeared to be two huge bumps that easily could be mistaken for horns especially at a distance.

Otis “Melonhead” Melon - An Alabama Savant

His hair was plastered against his face by rivulets of muddy sweat that ran down his cheeks. He was wearing a filthy pair of blue jeans and his brown shoes were coated in fresh cow biscuits. His white sweat stained t-shirt had an Auburn University logo printed in navy and orange on the pocket where a half-empty package of RedMan Chewing Tobacco poked out. Next to him stood an attractive, elderly woman with long gray hair braided in one long braid that trailed down the center of her back to the middle of her posterior. She was wearing a light blue cotton dress, a blue and white apron, and a pair of pink muck boots adorned with pictures of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

Otis nodded and grinned as Max and Zippy Doo approached, exposing brown stained teeth.

Zippy turned to Max and whispered, “He does have kind of a putrid essence to him, doesn’t he? He smells like the outhouse door on a shrimp boat.”

“What can I do for you boys?” Otis asked as he picked at his nose and wiped his hand on the leg of his filthy coveralls.

“Are you Otis Melon?” Max asked.

“That’s right. And this is my mama, Bernice Melon.”

Bernice “Mama” Melom

“I’m Max Fly and this is my partner, Zippy Doo. We are private investigators looking into alleged sightings of a monster that some believe to be the long sought-after Goat-Man. May we ask you a few questions?”

“Go right ahead just so long as you don’t wake my rabbits.”

“Okay, Max replied, looking at the herd of rabbits milling around inside the hutch.“A couple of boys said they saw someone that resembled you climbing up the mountain to play with a herd of goats. By any chance, could that have been you?”

“You must be referring to that Cooter Johnson and Fim Fudge. I saw ol’ Cooter and Fim up there watching me. What I do is none of their business. I stared back until those ol’ boys disappeared like a cork on a fishin’ line.”

“Don’t you pay no attention to what those two boys say. They are so dumb, they don’t know sheep shit from cottonseed,” Bernice Melon interjected. “They dropped out of the eighth grade and have been sittin’ around like a couple of bumps on a log ever since. If stupid could fly, both those boys would be jets.”

“I see,” Max replied, shaking his head. “Otis, by any chance, do you own a goat suit?” 

“I do. My mama made me one, didn’t you, mama? If y’all wanna see it, you’ll have to ask Shirley Smelley over in Slap Ankle. She lives on Watermelon Road, ‘bout 5 miles from here across the Black Gnat River jist ‘fore you git to Hog Jaw. She’s slightly burned out, but still smokin’ hot,” Otis said with what could pass as a leer. “I lent it to her to wear for the fall Yell-Off in Lick Lizard next week.”

“What’s a Yell-Off?” Zippy asked as he picked a wet piece of cow biscuit off his pant cuff.

“That’s where all them folks with a big mouth try to yell-off louder than Chief Shinbone the old Creek Indian Chief did back in the day. Stella Blitzki won it last year. Shirley thought it was rigged ‘cause ol’ Hayward Connor was doin’ the judgin’ and everyone knows Hayward is sweet on Shirley; has been since they was attending Lick Lizard Elementary School. Haywood won’t be doin’ no judgin’ this year. He’s holed up in the Farquhar Cattle Ranch on a work-release program. He don’t get released until next year so Shirley thinks she has the best chance of winning that trophy from Stella this year plus the grand prize, a $10 gift certificate from the Lord of The Fries Restaurant over in Devil’s Holler.”

“Chief Shinbone?” Zippy asked. He was beginning to find it difficult to follow Otis’s train of thought.

“The Chief was a Creek Indian back in the 1800’s,” Bernice interjected. “He lived in what folks now call Shinbone Valley. They claim he could yell so loud folks all the way in Fort Payne could hear him. Claim he had one brown eye and blue eye.”

“Yeah, he weren’t no cigar store Indian, that’s for sure,” Otis said, between bites of his sandwich.

“What do you have in that sandwich, Otis?” Zippy asked.

“Oh, it’s somethin’ my mama makes special for me. It’s goat cheese and coyote meat covered in coon fat gravy.”

“Otis here ain’t no Goat-Man,” Bernice continued, “If anything he’s a Rabbit-Man.

Otis has a photographic memory and in some incomprehensible way he must have picked up the secrets of sequential numbering all by hisself. It’s so beautiful, so precise. His mind shines with a light from another world.”

“What shines from another world?” Zippy asked while scraping more fresh cow biscuit from the bottom of his Cole Hahn loafer while still eyeing Otis’ sandwich.

“His mind. He’s been studying the Fibonacci sequence. That’s where every number is the sum of the preceding two. Somewhere he got his hands on Leonardo Pisano Fibonacci’s book, who is also known as Leonard of Pisa, by Papa John and Luigi Petrocelli, the proprietor of Luigi’s Pizza Parlor and Disco over in Slap Ankle. The name of the book is Liber Abaci. Have you read it? It is a fascinating read, by the way.

Otis watches his rabbits breed. It appeals to his sense of mathematical order. He even has an understanding of axonometry.”

“Axo…? Zippy stuttered.

Max lifted his hand and said, “Never mind Zip.”

Bernice pointed at Otis who sat with a concentrated expression next to the rabbit hutch still eating his sandwich and said, “See? He’s about to say something grown-up wise. Go ahead, Otis, say something.”

“Did you know that rabbits are naturally social and live in groups, Mr. Fly?” Otis said.

“No I don’t. I guess that one slipped by me.”

“They are and rabbits reach sexual maturity after one month and their gestation period is one month. After reaching sexual maturity, female rabbits give birth every month. I know’d ‘cause I watched them.

A female rabbit gives birth to one male rabbit and one female rabbit.

If you put a male and female rabbit in a hutch, how many pairs of rabbits can be produced from that pair in a year if each month each pair begets a new pair and the rabbits don’t die?”

“I don’t know, but that’s fascinating, Otis,” Zippy replied, flicking more fresh cow biscuit from his pant cuff.

“Otis surely isn’t this Goat-Man or monster you are looking for,” Bernice continued. “Otis is a savant, a genius! When he finishes his chores which consist of shoveling cow biscuits and milking goats, he documents these rabbits breeding and using the Fibonacci sequence, he predicts how many rabbits he will have by the end of the year. Every year now for the last ten years he has been exactly right, ‘cept the time a couple of coyotes got into the hutch and ate half the herd. That were a bad year, weren’t it, Otis?”

“It was mama, but I got them coyotes, didn’t I?”

“You sure did son.

How many farmers in rural Alabama know of the Fibonacci sequence, Mr. Fly? Not many. In fact, not many people in the United States know of Leonardo Pisano Fibonacci.”

Leonardo Fibonacci A.K.A. Leonardo D’Pisa - Famous Mathematician

“I think we should be going now,” Max replied, grabbing Zippy Doo by the arm and dragging him away from the rabbit hutch. Thank you for your time.”

“Did you see that black and white rabbit, Max? She is real cute.”

“How do you know it’s a she, Zip.”

Otis accompanied them around the barn to their car, only Otis didn’t bother to navigate around the piles of cow biscuits.

“That’s mighty nice,” Otis said pointing in the direction of the Flymobile and Max’s rifle. “Where’d you get that thing?”

“It’s a Pre-64 Model 1970 Winchester. A collector’s item.”

“I was talking about your car. It sure is ugly What kind is it?”

“It’s a 1958 Oldsmobile 98 Jetaway with Hydra-Matic drive and a 394 cubic inch engine. It’s got electric windows.”

“Nice. Does it have air?”

“Only in the tires,” Zippy replied. “Let’s go, Max. It’s getting late.”

Otis waved as they drove down the dirt road back to highway 24 heading back to Burnt Corn. They heard Cletus yell out, “Y’all drive safe now, ya yeah?” Francis the coon dog didn’t move. He was either sleeping or passed out.

“How much did you pay for that Winchester Rifle, Max?” Zippy asked.

“A little over two grand. As I said, it’s a collector’s gun. Every year it has gone up in price.”

“Where do you store an expensive rifle like that when you aren’t using it?”

“I keep it in a Kade Realtree double-sided foam padded rifle case made of a durable 1200D waterproof material that protects it against rain and wet conditions.  The case is specifically designed for scoped rifles.

CX901RC Kade Realtree Xtra Scoped Rifle Case

“Sweet, man, I might have to get one,” Zippy replied.

“You don’t have a rifle, Zip, but they do have a nice case that would fit your .357 Smith and Wesson revolver. Check it out at iadconcepts.com. They have a complete line of ammo bags as well.”

As they pulled onto highway 84 a few miles out of Burnt Corn, Zippy said, “We did it, Max, we solved that Goat-Man mystery, didn’t we?”

“Not so fast, Zippy. We solved this sighting of what was thought to be the Goat-Man. There very well could be a real Goat-Man out there someplace terrorizing innocent people; people just like the folks in Devil’s Holler and Burnt Corn Alabama. We don’t know. We just don’t know. We will have to continue to stay alert for any sightings reported from around the world and periodically check in with Liz Tureen, the Daily Gazette’s investigative reporter. She’s connected to all the news services. But this is what we do, Zip, we are here to protect the good people of Burnt Corn and the neighboring towns here in Alabama.

“I’m hungry,” Zippy said. “Let’s stop at that new eatin’ place that opened in Ankle Scratch. Its called the Smut Eye Grocery, Bait and Fine Dining place. They were advertising on the inside wall of that porta-potty that’s located alongside the highway at the new Burnt Corn Mall and Auto Auction. Wanda said she stopped in one day when nature gave her a call and she couldn’t make it to the office. She said they make a shrimp flavored crack at the Smut Eye that’s to die for.”

Shrimp Flavored Crack - Smut Eye Grocery, Bait & Fine Dining’s Weekly Special