Robert P. Herbst
07-18-2008, 11:38 AM
CLAM FESTIVAL
Written July 17, 2008 Fiction 1190 Words
Copyright © 2005 Robert P. Herbst. All rights reserved.
by
Robert P. Herbst
Once again it’s time for the Annual Maine Clam Festival. This year, in honor of our friends in the frozen State of Maine, Yodar Hoopelhoffer, the Mount Perry town idiot, has come up with a “Full Race Clam” to enter in Maine’s annual clam race.
Our very own ace reporter, Badnews Hunter, has been dispatched by the Mount Perry Newspaper and Fish Wrap to give full coverage to this exciting event. As we all remember, the disaster during last year’s clam race was caused when someone poured beer on the race track and the drunken clams went on a frenzied rampage among the cheering crowds of unsuspecting spectators.
One can only imagine the excitement this year as the clams are positioned on the starting line and made ready for the race by their trainers. After all, this is an annual event and not likely to be put on twice in the same year, even in Maine. It takes months of hard work to get a clam to reach out of the shell on race day and expend all their effort to reach the finish line first.
Certain, unscrupulous people have been known to take advantage of this situation and use illegal tactics to encourage their clams to extend their abilities beyond their physical endurance. This practice has been made illegal by the race officials.
For instance, this year, no beer will be allowed within fifty feet of the race track to prevent just such a catastrophe from happening again. There will no doubt be far fewer spectators, but at least those who do show up will be sober. However, there is still the problem of just how to classify the entry of a clam in the annual race, when the clam was not borne and raised in the waters off the Maine Coast.
Certain, short sighted people insist there be only clams born in Maine entered in the race. This, of course, leads to the question of, Just how does one determine where a clam was born? To exclude Canadian clams or clams from states to the South of Maine, might be considered discriminatory.
This has caused Yodar some concern as he and Dr. Gene Splicer have invested a great deal of time and effort in the care, feeding and training of this clam to be the fastest clam on record in the Annual Maine Clam Festival.
Naturally, there will be no clam chowder or clams on the half shell served anywhere in The State of Maine during the festival. Failure to comply with this law could see the perpetrator tied to a stake at low tide and left for the wild clams to feed on as the tide rises.
The only clams harvested during the festival will be this used in the race and those used must be returned to the wild after the race. All clams will be tested for steroids, both before and after the big race. It should be noted: The use of any performance enhancing drugs by the competing clams is strictly prohibited. Fortunately, genetic manipulation seems to be a loophole forgotten by the race officials.
At our little round up of coffee drinkers, here in the front of my little shop in the very center of Beautiful Downtown Mount Perry, Florida, Yodar is treating us to the first public viewing of his Full Race Clam. The clam appears on the outside to be a normal hard shell clam. A bit larger than usual at four inches across and maybe two inches from table top to the top of the shell when closed. We are assured, however, this is where the similarity stops.
Dr, Gene Splicer, the eminent Genetics Expert, from Mount Perry’s secret underground Genetic Experiment Station, indicates, this clam is the result of splicing the genes of the Maine Quahog Clam, with the Long Island Long Neck Clam and the North Florida, Bay Scallop, to create a true genetic marvel.
Dr. Splicer assures us, this clam will be as fast on dry land as it is in the water. In an effort to prove this to us, he has asked us all to be very quiet and still as the clam rested on the table in the very center of our little group. Every effort was made to be sure there wasn’t a drop of any kind of liquid on the table to corrupt the validity of the demonstration.
We sat there holding our breath, hardly daring to breath as the clam slowly opened the two halves of it’s shell. As the light gradually illuminated the interior, we could see a little red eye looking back at us from between the two halves of the shell. The clam sat there watching us for what seemed like hours before it moved again.
Gradually, a long neck like appendage slipped out from the shell and began feeling the table top around itself. The red eye watching us never wavered as the neck felt about for any trace of water. Slowly and methodically, the clam checked every inch of table top within reach, before retracting the neck and closing the shell as if to consider the situation.
We let out a collective breath of air as the demonstration seemed to have been concluded. However, Dr. Splices assured us, the demonstration had only just begun. We all quieted down again and began waiting for the next phase of the demonstration, which Dr. Splicer assured us was going to be quite dramatic.
Slowly, the clam began to open again. Yodar leaned close to the clam and whispered the word “RACE” softly. The clam extended the neck again, but this time the neck remained stiff and rigid. Ever so slowly the calm opened even further and seemed to be swelling from the inside.
This time however, the glowing red eye seemed to gradually turn to a watery blue as the clam continued to swell. It became readily apparent the clam was in extreme distress. The belly of the clam now extended out from between the two halves of the shell. This was not a happy looking clam.
Formaldi Hyde, the Embalmer’s daughter, unable to put off another cigarette, struck a match to light up. The clam, on seeing the light snapped shut expelling a noxious smelling gas which on contact with the lit match burst into flame, scorching the hair off all of our faces.
Unfortunately, the clam did not snap shut fast enough and the flame managed to ignite the end of the neck, which in turn was drawn in between the two halves of the shell. There was a slight delay before the clam exploded like a live hand grenade, showering us all with bits of shell and minced clam.
Dr. Splicer in a fit of rage leapt to his feet and yelled at Yodar, “How many times do I have to tell you, NO BEANS WHEN THE CLAM IS IN TRAINING! I don’t give a darn about your theories concerning jet propulsion and after burners!”
Written July 17, 2008 Fiction 1190 Words
Copyright © 2005 Robert P. Herbst. All rights reserved.
by
Robert P. Herbst
Once again it’s time for the Annual Maine Clam Festival. This year, in honor of our friends in the frozen State of Maine, Yodar Hoopelhoffer, the Mount Perry town idiot, has come up with a “Full Race Clam” to enter in Maine’s annual clam race.
Our very own ace reporter, Badnews Hunter, has been dispatched by the Mount Perry Newspaper and Fish Wrap to give full coverage to this exciting event. As we all remember, the disaster during last year’s clam race was caused when someone poured beer on the race track and the drunken clams went on a frenzied rampage among the cheering crowds of unsuspecting spectators.
One can only imagine the excitement this year as the clams are positioned on the starting line and made ready for the race by their trainers. After all, this is an annual event and not likely to be put on twice in the same year, even in Maine. It takes months of hard work to get a clam to reach out of the shell on race day and expend all their effort to reach the finish line first.
Certain, unscrupulous people have been known to take advantage of this situation and use illegal tactics to encourage their clams to extend their abilities beyond their physical endurance. This practice has been made illegal by the race officials.
For instance, this year, no beer will be allowed within fifty feet of the race track to prevent just such a catastrophe from happening again. There will no doubt be far fewer spectators, but at least those who do show up will be sober. However, there is still the problem of just how to classify the entry of a clam in the annual race, when the clam was not borne and raised in the waters off the Maine Coast.
Certain, short sighted people insist there be only clams born in Maine entered in the race. This, of course, leads to the question of, Just how does one determine where a clam was born? To exclude Canadian clams or clams from states to the South of Maine, might be considered discriminatory.
This has caused Yodar some concern as he and Dr. Gene Splicer have invested a great deal of time and effort in the care, feeding and training of this clam to be the fastest clam on record in the Annual Maine Clam Festival.
Naturally, there will be no clam chowder or clams on the half shell served anywhere in The State of Maine during the festival. Failure to comply with this law could see the perpetrator tied to a stake at low tide and left for the wild clams to feed on as the tide rises.
The only clams harvested during the festival will be this used in the race and those used must be returned to the wild after the race. All clams will be tested for steroids, both before and after the big race. It should be noted: The use of any performance enhancing drugs by the competing clams is strictly prohibited. Fortunately, genetic manipulation seems to be a loophole forgotten by the race officials.
At our little round up of coffee drinkers, here in the front of my little shop in the very center of Beautiful Downtown Mount Perry, Florida, Yodar is treating us to the first public viewing of his Full Race Clam. The clam appears on the outside to be a normal hard shell clam. A bit larger than usual at four inches across and maybe two inches from table top to the top of the shell when closed. We are assured, however, this is where the similarity stops.
Dr, Gene Splicer, the eminent Genetics Expert, from Mount Perry’s secret underground Genetic Experiment Station, indicates, this clam is the result of splicing the genes of the Maine Quahog Clam, with the Long Island Long Neck Clam and the North Florida, Bay Scallop, to create a true genetic marvel.
Dr. Splicer assures us, this clam will be as fast on dry land as it is in the water. In an effort to prove this to us, he has asked us all to be very quiet and still as the clam rested on the table in the very center of our little group. Every effort was made to be sure there wasn’t a drop of any kind of liquid on the table to corrupt the validity of the demonstration.
We sat there holding our breath, hardly daring to breath as the clam slowly opened the two halves of it’s shell. As the light gradually illuminated the interior, we could see a little red eye looking back at us from between the two halves of the shell. The clam sat there watching us for what seemed like hours before it moved again.
Gradually, a long neck like appendage slipped out from the shell and began feeling the table top around itself. The red eye watching us never wavered as the neck felt about for any trace of water. Slowly and methodically, the clam checked every inch of table top within reach, before retracting the neck and closing the shell as if to consider the situation.
We let out a collective breath of air as the demonstration seemed to have been concluded. However, Dr. Splices assured us, the demonstration had only just begun. We all quieted down again and began waiting for the next phase of the demonstration, which Dr. Splicer assured us was going to be quite dramatic.
Slowly, the clam began to open again. Yodar leaned close to the clam and whispered the word “RACE” softly. The clam extended the neck again, but this time the neck remained stiff and rigid. Ever so slowly the calm opened even further and seemed to be swelling from the inside.
This time however, the glowing red eye seemed to gradually turn to a watery blue as the clam continued to swell. It became readily apparent the clam was in extreme distress. The belly of the clam now extended out from between the two halves of the shell. This was not a happy looking clam.
Formaldi Hyde, the Embalmer’s daughter, unable to put off another cigarette, struck a match to light up. The clam, on seeing the light snapped shut expelling a noxious smelling gas which on contact with the lit match burst into flame, scorching the hair off all of our faces.
Unfortunately, the clam did not snap shut fast enough and the flame managed to ignite the end of the neck, which in turn was drawn in between the two halves of the shell. There was a slight delay before the clam exploded like a live hand grenade, showering us all with bits of shell and minced clam.
Dr. Splicer in a fit of rage leapt to his feet and yelled at Yodar, “How many times do I have to tell you, NO BEANS WHEN THE CLAM IS IN TRAINING! I don’t give a darn about your theories concerning jet propulsion and after burners!”