Pritchard Daviess by Adam D. Rice

Author:Adam D. Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: humor, revolutionary war, united states, comic novel, historical fiction, satire, historical satire, memoir, parody, spoof, funny novel
Publisher: Pitmix Press
Published: 2019-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

20 VISITING THE FAM

“The most beautiful time of year to visit Rinky-Dink was last year.” – P.D.

After Zippy and I stormed out of the congress and wreaked havoc across Philly, we headed for our accommodations at the boarding house. Although I’d severed my political ties to the congressional delegation, I continued to supply Zippy’s drool to the provisional colonial government for the duration of the war. My mule daughter and I stuck around Philadelphia for a few days to say proper goodbyes to some of our dearest friends and creditors. However, before long, we were back on the open road. The British had vacated Boston several months prior, but Zippy and I had no reason to return. I wanted to keep as much distance between myself and Hideous as possible. Besides, the Jaysons there were in Pat’s capable, secretive hands, so, instead, we surfed to see the gang back in Rinky-Dink.

The trip, as many are, was chocked full of so much adventure, I hardly have space to recall it. Zippy and I were nearly captured by a British scouting force. We fended off a horde of mountain men who gave us chase, riding wooly goats. Or was that before the scouting force? Either way, Zippy had to kick it into “high fear”—a term I’d invented to describe my mini mule’s fastest skitter. That was the same trip where I invented a term that I used forever after while surfing. Zippy and I were passing by a pasture, and I called out, “Cow!” after spotting one. Zippy practically fell over. I must’ve spooked her. She lurched in and out of the ditch for several hundred yards. During that time, I made a few strange noises which, strung together, sounded like, “Ah-bun-ga.” It was then that cowabunga took its place in my vernacular.

I rolled up to Mum and Paps’ home in Rinky-Dink late one August afternoon. Zippy followed close behind—only, she wasn’t rolling. She was weary from our travels, so she walked. A few seconds after I knocked on the door, it opened to reveal several of my relatives. I was pleasantly surprised to see that a few of my favorite siblings and cats had survived while I’d been away. There was one cat, however, who I wasn’t pleased to see—a mangy tabby name Blossoms. There was nothing cheery about his personality, I can assure you.

At first, my family had trouble recognizing me. The chemicals, dust, and long hours involved in cork production will do that to you. When they finally came to, my siblings and cats let out a rousing cheer followed by several fits of coughing up cork dust. As I continued into the house, I gave each of them a simple yet personal greeting, “You haven’t changed a bit, so and so”—nice and generic. On a few occasions, I’ll admit that I lied. For example, my Aunt Bettra looked ghastly, like a corpse who’d decided she couldn’t stand being dead, so she donned some makeup and faked it.

I found Mum and Paps seated by the fireplace in the den.

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