Notes from a Mad Gathering

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: Thursday, June 14, 2001

: This morning, went to a local rustic eatery owned by Louise Long-Rifle for some vittles.  While there, encountered many strange folk who were congregating en mass-about 80 or 90, by my witness.  I cautiously approached and inquired after the situation, seeing as how I had seen them from the ridge above.  It seemed from what was said that there was some sort of "Gathering" afoot.  Gathering for what, they would not say.  They would only get a fierce look about them, cry out with a blood curling war whoop, and shout something that sounded like "Mighty Mohican Powers-activate!"  With that, this mass of humanity surged forth to the lot to gather their various and sundry transport, and rode forth into the wilderness of Pisgah.  All was left silent at Louise's.  And what a mess-plates and utensils scattered about the place, beer cans, loincloths and other debris of their debauchery strewn everywhere.....but, I digress.

: Tempting fate, I decided to follow.  It would be a fateful decision.

: I timidly followed behind this carnal caravan for what seemed days and days.  Finally, struggling up a death defying incline with my brakes smoking while butchering many a Broadway Musical hit song to soothe my nerves, I arrived at their first destination.  It was a place called Table Rock, and I soon found out why.  Before long, they had put this poor unfortunate man in a breechclout on top of a table and forced him to bare his soul to the world, making him do a backwoods Elvis and asking him to display all his worldly goods for them to paw at.  They dumped out his bag and drank from his leather canteen.  Madness!!  Approaching the head of the trail, the group was accosted by an odor that could only be described as ungodly.  It was determined that the smell was emanating from some foul structure by the side of the road.  Many attempted to enter the edifice to snuff out (or add to?) this lethal perfume.  However, realizing that nothing humane could be done, everyone was evacuated from the area and the loinclothed crooner, armed with musket and powerful shot, dispatched the offending thing with one shot!  Merciful God!  

: The group continued up the trail.  I followed.

: Along a rocky, narrow, and odor-free trail, the "gatherers" trekked.  Many lovely vistas were seen, and they were heard to say to each other "Top O' The World!"  I always had thought the greeting was "Top O' The Mornin'" but perhaps I have been confused.  In any event, this was a determined bunch.  They leaped over rocks, fought through underbrush and thickets, and braved charred trees and other dangerous flora to reach what some referred to as a sacred spot.  Reaching the summit, the group broke up into smaller units and began a sort of revelry which mere words cannot convey.  This place was said to have been haunted by the spirits of two men and one woman.  Such names as Cora, Chingatchcook, and Hawkeye were thrown out.  Who were these mysterious souls?  Gods who dwelled in this place from time immemorial, as the Greek gods of Olympus?  Heroes from a bygone era who had performed daring feats of bravado?  Three hippies who left their initials on one of the trees there?  Whatever the case, this group was beyond reason on the point.  Soon, it was time to depart, and with sorrowful backward glances, the lofty perch was descended.

: The next place visited proved to be even more of a shocking experience for me.

: Arriving at another lot, the group proceeded to pull a bandanna clad local from the trunk of one of the cars-had he been with us the whole time?-and chided him into telling his tales of adventure in the local woods.  Chasing away all those not of Mohican blood, the group proceeded up this trail.  At a clearing, this local, who said he was the adopted white son of one of the gathering conspirers, told his tale of camping along the road and being accosted by a small man with a vivid imagination (who liked to shout out such original sayings as "first position!") that wanted him to carry a rifle, dress in a loud red outfit and prepare to be scalped in his vision of the perfect frontier world.  Needless to say, for a generous supply of wampum and brandy, he aquiesced.  We came to a spot close to a river where a tragic affair took place.  Our local narrator, whom we shall call "Eric", told of a fair maiden who almost drowned at that very spot.  Apparently, while canoeing with a friend, she was asked to hold one of the paddles while her friend adjusted his breechclout.  Saying that she was above the menial act of rowing, she shoved the paddle back at her companion.  In doing so, she tipped the canoe and fell into the river.  Struggling for life in the dangerous currents of twelve inch deep water, her life was eventually saved, praise God!  This woman has subsequently been seen disrobing in various other visions of small men, and to think we could have missed these susequent opportunities at the hands of a North Carolina stream!

: Here ends my entry for this day.  More startling revelations will follow in the coming days.

: Humbly,
: E. Gumrot, Ph.D
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