a postcard sometime. Also got me to thinkin about ole Wanda the pig, little Forrest's pet, an how she was doin, an then, of course, I got to thinkin about little Forrest hissef. But since thinkin ain't exactly my strong point, I decided to take action. I gone out into the street to buy little Forrest a present.
It is about seven P.M. but the sun is shinin bright as can be up here near the North Pole, an all the stores is open. Most of em, however, is saloons. There wadn't no department store around, so's I gone on into a novelty shop where they is peddlin everthin from gold nuggets to eagle feathers, but finally I seen what I wanted to get for little Forrest. A genuine Alaska Indian totem pole!
It was not one of them big ole ten-feet-tall totem poles, but it was about three feet, anyway, an was carved with eagle's beaks an faces of stern-lookin Indians an bear's paws an all, an painted pretty bright colors. I ast the feller at the counter how much, an he says, "For you army grunts I make a special price - one thousan, two hundrit, and six dollars."
"Damn," I says. "What'd it cost before the discount?"
"For me to know an you to find out" was his reply.
Well, anyhow, I stood there figgerin that it is gettin late an I don't know when I'm gonna get back into town an little Forrest probly need to hear from me, so I dug down deep into my pocket for what was left of my paychedcs an bought the totem pole.
"Could you ship it down to Mobile, Alabama?" I ast.
"Sure, for another four hundrit dollars," he says. Well, who was I to argue? After all, we are within spittin distance of the top of the world, so's I dug down again an coughed up the money, figgerin wouldn't have nothin much to spend it on up here anyhow.
I ast him if I could send a note with it, an he says, "Sure, but notes are another fifty bucks."
But I thought, what the hell, this is a genuine antique Alaska Indian totem pole, an I am already gettin a bargin. So's I wrote the note, which said this:
Dear little Forrest,
I spose you been wonderin what has become of me up here in Alaska. Well, I have been workin very hard at a very important job with the United States Army an have not had much time to write. I am sendin you a totem pole to fool with. The Indians here say they is very sacred objects, so you should put it someplace important to you. I hope you is doin well in school an mindin your grandma.
Love...
Well, I started to put "Love, Dad," but he ain't never called me that, so I just put my name. I figgered he just have to figger out the rest.
Anyhow, time I got back to the bar my guys had proceeded to get drunk. I was just settin at the bar nursin a beer when I noticed a feller in a chair all slumped over a table. I could only see half his face, but somehow he looked familiar, an I gone on over an walked aroun him a couple of times, an lo an behole, if it ain't Mister McGivver from the pig-shit farm!
I raised up his head an sort of shook him awake. At first he don't recognize me, which is understandable, account of there is a mostly empty quart of gin on the table. But then a light sort of come on in his eyes an he jumps up an give me a big hug. I figger he is gonna be real mad at me for lettin the pig shit blow up, but in fact, he ain't.
"Don't worry yourself, my boy," Mister McGivver says. "It was all probably a blessing in disguise anyway. I never dreamed the pig-shit operation would get that big, but once it did, I was under such pressure to keep up with things, it probably was taking years off my life. Maybe you even did me a favor."
As it turns out, of course, Mister McGivver has lost everthin. When the pig-shit farm blowed up, the townspeople an the environmental people shut him down an ran him out of town. Next, because he had borrowed so much money to build the pig-shit-fueled ships, the banks foreclosed on him an thew him out of bidness entirely.
"But that's all right, Forrest," he says.