Random Scribbles · writing

Down East

TBP



“So? Yah really gonna sell this place Wahd?” Crete asked.

“Ayuh, reckon I am.”

“Damned if I can unnahstan’ that. ‘s beautiful. Right on the watah and all; an the trees! Yah got the goddamn trees.” Crete waved his arms wide, as if to point out all that Ward was giving up.

“Yah can buy it yahself then, Crete. I’ll make yah a good deal”

“What’s wrong with it, then?”

“Well, Mahgie and I came up heah ‘cause we wanted to be treashah huntas, and theah’s ‘posed to be a sunk ship close by. We kept that paht mum when we bought the place. Didn’t want Claude tryin’ to outbid us, ya know.”

“Ayuh, Claude can be a right bastahd sometimes and, I oughta know I’m married to his sistah, all these yeahs.”

Ward cocked his head and looked at Crete with one eye all scrunched up, “Yea, well – be that as it may, we looked fer that sunk treashah ship fuh ten yeahs an foun’ nuthin’. Nuthin’, searched the whole damn lake. Weese dun. Givin’ up and headin’ down east. Someplace we can still get a decent bowl a chowdah, an’ catch a Red Sox game on the TV.”

“Ayuh,” said Crete.

“Ayuh,” said Ward.

“Watcha gonna do with yah pots, then. I could take ‘em off yah hands.”


 

sunk ship
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