Spring Time for Cad in Merced

It’s spring time once more in the little town of Merced. The trees along Bear Creek have turned from dark gray to light gray, which is as colorful as they will ever get due to the polluted nature of the stream. Spring is also when the bums and other assorted mole people crawl out from under various rocks and bridges to blink at the sun like mutant lizards on a mutant world. Spring heralds the return of the ducks cranes and other water birds stupid enough to call the smelly brown green waters of the creek home. With the return of the birds, the hobos and bridge dwellers come out in droves looking for their first good meal of the season. The hunting techniques vary greatly, some hobos flap their arms and squawk in a rough imitation, hoping to win the trust of the flock long enough to make a diving grab. Others use reed snorkels to sneak up from below and yank the choice duck under by the legs. I prefer to dress up as a giant brand muffin and flop about on the bank until an unfortunate fowl waddles over and attempts to sample me. On a personal note however, use this method only to catch ducks. Dressing up like a large frog and flopping into a flock of egrets may well cost you your life. With the birds come nats, great clouds of them. These particular nats are known as Nose Nats, and they seem to find nothing more pleasurable than speeding up the nostril of an unwary jogger. The sound of joggers blowing nats out of their noses is as much a part of spring in Merced as the muffled warble of the season’s first song bird being smothered to death under a used diaper on the trash lined banks of the creek. Close behind the birds and nats is the annual spawning run of the Bear Creek Glop Fish. Drawn to the horrid smell of the creek waters warming up in the sun, these detestable fish are a favorite food of buzzards due to their astoundingly foul taste and eye watering smell. On a warm spring day you can see great flocks of buzzards dive bombing the muddy bottom of the creek in search of this unique delicacy. All the buzzards in the water however pose a grave threat to the fishing hobos, particularly those using hollow reeds. From below the muddy water a buzzard looks an awful lot like a duck, but yanking a buzzard down by its feet is a terrible idea. Buzzards really hate that, and will think nothing of tearing off the offending appendage. Many a hobo ends the summer months minus a finger or eye.

Spring, in my humble opinion is the best time of the year. Lounging under the stars, roasting a scorched crane on an open fire, chasing hot tourist girls through the park wearing nothing but a thong made of cat hide. Ya just can’t beat that kind of living.