Duke was quite a character

By Jack Elliott
Correspondent

Duke was a character. An outstanding athlete who would consistently place a Bocce Ball in a winning position. A canny card player who never missed a fifteen-two or a chance to euchre you. Even in his final years as Parkinson’s ravaged his frame and he was forced to pass the deck for someone else to shuffle the cards when it was his deal, Duke never complained or missed a beat.
When the spring breakers showed up on the beach, Duke every afternoon, with his walker suitably loader with a container of orange juice and gin headed for the sand to check out the latest beach fashions. At 77 he took his last para-sailing flight.
Duke’s one constant problem was the misplacement of his dentures. Every meal, regardless of setting, out would come his dentures to sit on the table next to his dinner plate. “Just can’t taste food properly with ‘em in,” he reasoned without apology. His mortified wife would shake her head and scold him to put them in his pocket, which at least would keep him from losing them.
On the jobsite he was not so fortunate, variously misplacing them on the bridge railing or the canteen truck where they would meet almost certain fate. He provided a handsome guaranteed income for a least two denturists.
Duke was always ready to lend a hand and stopped by Wayne’s, a neighbour, who was having a difficult time convincing a stubborn cow to step into the trailer at the end of the loading chute. Repeated prods along with physical and verbal encouragement simply wasn’t working.
Duke climbed over the fence and while Wayne twisted the cow’s tail up over her back- a standard encouragement technique for you non farm types- Duke lowered his shoulder to provide an added push.
Wayne twisted, Duke pushed, and the cow bellowed, but refused to move. However, it’s digestive track, well lubricated with fresh, green grass did move- explosively.
Duke was right in the line of fire. He was liberally plastered from the top of his head down. Loading efforts came to an immediate halt. Using two fingers as top mounted windshield wipers Duke first cleared his vision, his bushy eyebrows, holding substantial residue. He clambered over the fence and headed for the horse trough where he immediately ducked his head and torso and set up a vigorous sputtering and splashing worthy of the best apple-bobbing contest.
Then his torso emerging from the water resembling a breaching humpback whale or a grizzly catching salmon he shook out a shower of water and processed grass. He headed across the yard towards his car shedding garments along the path.
At the car he took one look around, defiantly stripped off the last undergarment, opened the door, climbed in, and roared out of the yard in a cloud of dust.
The neighbours paralyzed with laughter were no help. No word on if he managed to keep his teeth in.