This non-fiction writer is trying his hand at making things up for others to enjoy.
It's What They Do
Portly, a Sleepy Town Still Fast Asleep
Incorporated in 1892, Portly, named after Peter Portly, made its living as a logging and sawmilling town until the early 1970's.
Bordered by water and mountains, road access to and from Portly wasn't available until 1966. Barge, float plane and rail were primary modes of transportation to settle and build the town.
Most residents of Portly didn't want the road access at all when it happened. It only came about because Portly was on the way to Bayley, a coastal resort town the provincial government wanted to develop as a tourism destination. Portly had a small hospital and Bayley did not.
For most Portlians, it was the beginning of the end. They liked being isolated. Didn't like strangers fishing in "their waters" and hiking through "their woods". In fact, they didn't like strangers at all. And, if you weren't wearing logging or sawmilling attire, then you must be a "suit". Suits were especially despised. They were always trying to change things.
However, Portlians did recognize some suits were a necessary evil. Like the local doctor, banker and lawyer. And me, the lone and lonely reporter/publisher of the Portly Press. We, my dog Luci and I, also did small printing jobs to get by.
We suits did get together occasionally because of our common thread to maintain the confidentiality of the locals. Us suits, we knew stuff.
Local Lawyer Suffers Concussion After Limbing Tree in Backyard
Jim Bothwell, lawyer, notary and president of the local Dogooder Society, a chapter of Dogooder International, knocked himself out after watching his neighbour, Devin Portly, a professional logger, limb and fall a tree in his backyard.
"I know I did everything Devin did and still can't figure out what went wrong." when asked what happened.
When shown the photo Mrs. Portly took from next door, his only response was "Oh".
Mr. Bothwell is doing well but has been blacklisted from renting equipment potentially harmful to himself and others by Frank Jones, owner of Frank's Equipment Rentals & Cannabis Shoppe. (Frank was just licensed by the province as a cannabis reseller. Frank says he has daily specials at 4:20 pm you should check out.)
Which way did he go?
Search Party Grows
Josh Davenport aka JD, the senior, and only, mechanic at Mack's Motor Repair and Tire Shop, was last seen entering Eddie Hawlett's truck by "Big Al" Smith, the big truck tire guy at Mack's.
"Yeah", said lovable, Big Al, "First I saw him go in the driver door 'bout 4:15, jus' before goin' home time. He fished aroun' fer sumthin' aroun' the dash and come out. Then I seen him start workin' on Eddie's truck. Gosh, I love Eddie's truck. I done all the wheel work on that baby fer over thirty year', y'know. My daddy done it for forty year 'fore me. Gosh, I love Eddie's truck. Thass a big truck y'know. High up fer the motor. JD is jus' a little, scrawny-skinny runt. I did see him climb his way up onto the bumper tho' and then in under the hood. Didn' stick around to see him work tho'. I ain' his boss. Then I went to have a smoke 'fore I left. Never seen him come outta the truck."
Big Al lives with Boo, his basset hound companion for the last fifteen years. Rumour has it Big Al and Boo share similar tastes in food and searches for Angela Basset movies.
There you have it. JD Davenport has gone missing since approximately 4:20 pm this past Wednesday.
Constable McTeith, our lone law enforcement officer, together with Johnny "Borderline" Frechette, expert hunting guide and suspected local fence, will be organizing a search party on the Weed Store side of Franks equipment rental shop at 9:00 am Friday. The public is invited. Refreshments may be served. Bring your own coffee.
I know Luci and I will be there to follow the story to its conclusion and to see what's new at the Weed Store.
This reporter did speak to Cst. McTeith during dinner on Wednesday. It was a lovely roast beef dinner, with all the trimmings, prepared by his fiddle playing wife Fiona. She played and danced a jig during dinner. She is from back east and is having trouble fitting in. She is one fine cook though.
"There is much speculation as to JD's whereabouts." stated the constable. "Some think he just snuck out of work a wee bit early, got drunk, then high, then drunk again. Then they think he got high again and is wandering around aimlessly somewhere in the woods."
"Others think his penchant for masturbating in weird places has him somewhere in the truck motor cavity, naked and probably dead. I checked every inch of that motor cavity. Only thing I found was a pound of liver lodged in the motor mount. Weird."
On hearing the news of JD's disappearance, his elderly grandmother called me to report "Hawlett's truck was evil and ate mechanics. It had happened once before in 1958."
There were no reports of man-eating trucks anywhere on the I could find in 1958.
On speaking to Borderline Frechette, he has divulged the search party will start at the entrance to the Happy Days Dock and fan out from there in a semi-circle into the forest. When asked about an ocean search, Borderline said "He conferred with the Constable and agreed they would skip the water search since neither liked the ocean and JD hated the water. They figured JD would be like them and stay away from anything that wasn't solid."
Made sense to me.