so Tony........................... y`see how quickly your clever "Frenchie Frye" morphed into "Finn the elf"?
.........you gotta be real careful dropping names within the grasp of Jack Dodds
Frenchie will forever question his identity, choice of lifestyle and ability to earn a living in the manner in which he'd like. His untimely metamorphosis will, no doubt, cause a myriad of physical and mental ailments and disabilities. Such a shame, really; Frenchie, ah, I mean, Finn, was always a likeable sort of elf if not for the constant change-about mood and use of the mind- altering drugs he takes.
Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Kimo Sabe......we don`t want to reinvent the wheel here,habit-wise....and, as is typical with the elfins, there`s precious little gray matter to begin with
.....................here`s what we`ll do....we`ll send out a 22gal bucket of Frenchie ne Finn`s favorite hooch along with a rescue Llama and several nice recipes
Tony; I must concede that Frenchie Frye is in fact the elusive elf's birth name.
Down on his luck and seeking a better life, Frenchie Frye the Francophone troll had hopped a southbound freight out of Montreal and aimlessly made his way south into Kentucky before running out of cash. In desperation the hungry little vagrant had applied to work the counter at a Lexington submarine sandwich shop, but when the manager saw him he just laughed cruelly, saying "get lost....you're elfin....you can't even reach the counter!" Mortified, the furious elf was pacing in the parking lot wondering what to do when a short while later the shop delivery van arrived. Frenchie watched as the driver filled the refrigerated van with wrapped submarine sandwiches, destined for delivery. Seeing his opportunity, Frenchie sprinted to the van, jumped in and roared off, laughing with glee as he made his getaway, straining to see over the dashboard.
Over the next few days Frenchie made his way into Tennessee, setting up at highway rest areas to generate cash by selling sandwiches by day and driving southeast by night. He had fashioned a crudely made sign which he leaned against his van which advertised Elf Finn's Sandwich Stop. Frenchie had smirked to himself when he thought to use the sandwich shop manager's insult as part of his "company name"; in fact he laughed out loud when he decided to take it a step further and go by the alias of Elf Finn. On the third day "Finn" crossed into North Carolina and once again set up at a highway rest stop on Interstate 40 just outside Asheville. During casual conversation with a customer the man asked where Finn was headed. When Finn replied he hadn't decided just yet, the traveler suggested he set up at the beautiful Outer Banks holiday destination; recommending it as a perfect vacation place to sell sandwiches. Finn, who was running low on product, impulsively decided to follow the man's recommendation.
Two days later Finn arrived at the beautiful Outer Banks oceanside, or the OBX as the locals called it. After a good night's sleep in the stolen van parked discreetly in a quiet residential area, Finn awoke to a beautiful sunny day. Stepping into the warm breeze Finn smelled the salty air and decided to drive down to the beach for a walk in the surf. Forty minutes later, as he was returning to his nearby van, Finn spotted a man standing chest deep in the frothing surf, staring intently into each passing wave. At first glance Finn assumed the burly man was fishing in the surf like a number of others nearby, but looking closer Finn was surprised to see the man had no fishing rod. As Finn went closer to investigate, the man suddenly lunged into the boiling surf and with a triumphant roar snatched out a huge fish barehanded; grabbing it by its gills. Amazed by this display of angling prowess Finn approached the man, who was busy subduing his thrashing catch. Introducing himself, Finn asked the angler how on earth he had been able to accomplish such a feat. Seeing the wonder on the little elf's face, the man's countenance softened as he humbly replied, "I can't explain it son, I suppose it's just something I was born with." Still overcome with amazement, Finn rambled on excitedly about what he had witnessed as the kindly fisherman quietly chuckled to himself. Suddenly they were startled by a loud voice behind them; demanding to know which one of them owned the van parked nearby. They turned to see an obese sheriff striding towards them aggressively. The lawman identified himself as Sheriff Buford T. Justice as he again repeated his demand. The fisherman provided his driver's licence, denied ownership of the van and pointed to his Ford pickup, parked in the adjacent lot. The fisherman watched intently as the visibly nervous elf was similarly questioned and was surprised to hear him identify himself as Frenchy Frye and produce Canadian identification to support his claim. Allowing his initial positive impression of the elf to guide him the fisherman decided not to interject and watched as the suspicious Sheriff thoroughly grilled the elf, who appeared quite shaken by the experience. At the sound of a tow truck arriving, the Sheriff, obviously still suspicious of the elf's story, glaringly advised the pair that the van was stolen out of Kentucky so he was sure they wouldn't mind it being towed away.
After watching the Sheriff angrily stomp away the fisherman turned to the elf and stared into his frightened eyes, now brimming with tears. "What's this all about son?" he asked in a kind voice; which caused the scared little elf to break down and confess what he had done. Seeing the genuine look of shame on his face and now appreciating his dire predicament, the fisherman looked around, took a deep breath and decided to place a bet on the side of good. Sticking out his hand the kindly fisherman said, "I tell you what son, as far as I'm concerned your name is Finn. It just so happens Finn, that I live in a little place a few hours away called Tabletop and as good luck would have it a whole bunch of people and animals live there that I'm sure you could relate to and get along with real well. Furthermore I happen to be looking for a camp cook to feed them all; would you be interested in such an offer? "Would I? !! shouted the elf excitedly...."mister, thank you so much; I'll be the best darned cook you ever had." Gathering up his catch the fisherman said "well let's get along home then Finn, we got a ways to travel." As they got in the Ford pickup, the elf stated, "Gee mister, I can't believe how kind you've been to me, ...."heck I don't even know your name! With a paternal smile the fisherman started the truck, patted Finn's shoulder and said "the name's John son....but you can call me JayBee."
so Tony........................... y`see how quickly your clever "Frenchie Frye" morphed into "Finn the elf"?
.........you gotta be real careful dropping names within the grasp of Jack Dodds
Tony; I must concede that Frenchie Frye is in fact the elusive elf's birth name.
Down on his luck and seeking a better life, Frenchie Frye the Francophone troll had hopped a southbound freight out of Montreal and aimlessly made his way south into Kentucky before running out of cash. In desperation the hungry little vagrant had applied to work the counter at a Lexington submarine sandwich shop, but when the manager saw him he just laughed cruelly, saying "get lost....you're elfin....you can't even reach the counter!" Mortified, the furious elf was pacing in the parking lot wondering what to do when a short while later the shop delivery van arrived. Frenchie watched as the driver filled the refrigerated van with wrapped submarine sandwiches, destined for delivery. Seeing his opportunity, Frenchie sprinted to the van, jumped in and roared off, laughing with glee as he made his getaway, straining to see over the dashboard.
Over the next few days Frenchie made his way into Tennessee, setting up at highway rest areas to generate cash by selling sandwiches by day and driving southeast by night. He had fashioned a crudely made sign which he leaned against his van which advertised Elf Finn's Sandwich Stop. Frenchie had smirked to himself when he thought to use the sandwich shop manager's insult as part of his "company name"; in fact he laughed out loud when he decided to take it a step further and go by the alias of Elf Finn. On the third day "Finn" crossed into North Carolina and once again set up at a highway rest stop on Interstate 40 just outside Asheville. During casual conversation with a customer the man asked where Finn was headed. When Finn replied he hadn't decided just yet, the traveler suggested he set up at the beautiful Outer Banks holiday destination; recommending it as a perfect vacation place to sell sandwiches. Finn, who was running low on product, impulsively decided to follow the man's recommendation.
Two days later Finn arrived at the beautiful Outer Banks oceanside, or the OBX as the locals called it. After a good night's sleep in the stolen van parked discreetly in a quiet residential area, Finn awoke to a beautiful sunny day. Stepping into the warm breeze Finn smelled the salty air and decided to drive down to the beach for a walk in the surf. Forty minutes later, as he was returning to his nearby van, Finn spotted a man standing chest deep in the frothing surf, staring intently into each passing wave. At first glance Finn assumed the burly man was fishing in the surf like a number of others nearby, but looking closer Finn was surprised to see the man had no fishing rod. As Finn went closer to investigate, the man suddenly lunged into the boiling surf and with a triumphant roar snatched out a huge fish barehanded; grabbing it by its gills. Amazed by this display of angling prowess Finn approached the man, who was busy subduing his thrashing catch. Introducing himself, Finn asked the angler how on earth he had been able to accomplish such a feat. Seeing the wonder on the little elf's face, the man's countenance softened as he humbly replied, "I can't explain it son, I suppose it's just something I was born with." Still overcome with amazement, Finn rambled on excitedly about what he had witnessed as the kindly fisherman quietly chuckled to himself. Suddenly they were startled by a loud voice behind them; demanding to know which one of them owned the van parked nearby. They turned to see an obese sheriff striding towards them aggressively. The lawman identified himself as Sheriff Buford T. Justice as he again repeated his demand. The fisherman provided his driver's licence, denied ownership of the van and pointed to his Ford pickup, parked in the adjacent lot. The fisherman watched intently as the visibly nervous elf was similarly questioned and was surprised to hear him identify himself as Frenchy Frye and produce Canadian identification to support his claim. Allowing his initial positive impression of the elf to guide him the fisherman decided not to interject and watched as the suspicious Sheriff thoroughly grilled the elf, who appeared quite shaken by the experience. At the sound of a tow truck arriving, the Sheriff, obviously still suspicious of the elf's story, glaringly advised the pair that the van was stolen out of Kentucky so he was sure they wouldn't mind it being towed away.
After watching the Sheriff angrily stomp away the fisherman turned to the elf and stared into his frightened eyes, now brimming with tears. "What's this all about son?" he asked in a kind voice; which caused the scared little elf to break down and confess what he had done. Seeing the genuine look of shame on his face and now appreciating his dire predicament, the fisherman looked around, took a deep breath and decided to place a bet on the side of good. Sticking out his hand the kindly fisherman said, "I tell you what son, as far as I'm concerned your name is Finn. It just so happens Finn, that I live in a little place a few hours away called Tabletop and as good luck would have it a whole bunch of people and animals live there that I'm sure you could relate to and get along with real well. Furthermore I happen to be looking for a camp cook to feed them all; would you be interested in such an offer? "Would I? !! shouted the elf excitedly...."mister, thank you so much; I'll be the best darned cook you ever had." Gathering up his catch the fisherman said "well let's get along home then Finn, we got a ways to travel." As they got in the Ford pickup, the elf stated, "Gee mister, I can't believe how kind you've been to me, ...."heck I don't even know your name! With a paternal smile the fisherman started the truck, patted Finn's shoulder and said "the name's John son....but you can call me JayBee."
How you can string together such a harmonious collection of words and ideas is beyond me Jack......Very Impressive ......I only wish you`d chosen a more deserving vice-protagonist
.........you gotta be real careful dropping names within the grasp of Jack Dodds
