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Skarfing
Material
SOUTH OF THE BORDER
Cortland Barrett slumped
over the portable drawing
table, kneading his temples.
He was four weeks behind
schedule and $800,000 over
budget. Three bulldozers had
already been lost in Amazon
mudslides. On a normal De
fense Department job this
pace would be par for the
course, but this project was far
from normal. The Company
signed Cortland's checks. If
his crew couldn't get the airstrip and process-
ing plant up before the coca harvesting
season, more than just Cortland's reputation
would be damaged. The CIA is notorious for
its vicious punishments.
with Chef-Boy-Am-I-Hungry
Cortland fingered the arrowhead he had
found during their primary deforestation
survey. His mind was a scratched record
repeating. "I've got to clear this forest!" Sud-
denly, Cortland noticed a strange blueish fog
filtering through the tent door. He looked out-
side and gasped at the sight before him.
Towering over base camp's cluster of tents
was a forty-foot tall man in a plaid shirt. One-
of his car-sized hands clutched an axe with
a tree-trunk handle. To his right side stood
an equally humongous blue ox.
What the. Who are you?"
"Why, I'm Paul Bunyan and this is Babe
"Who the
the Blue Ox. We're here in the name of the
grand old CIA and hearty lumberjacks.
everywhere to help you log for Uncle Sam."
Bunyan's voice boomed through camp. A
cheer erupted from all of the workers when
they heard his plan. Cortland couldn't believe
it. He knew the CIA could buy countries and
assassinate presidents, but resurrect a ghost
from American folklore? The concept was
awe inspiring.
The next day, Paul began hacking at the
prospective airstrip area. Babe followed, gob
bling up tangled vines and downed trees.
They moved as if the fate of the nation was
in their hands and hooves. In a sense, it was.
Without this American-owned facility, foreign
investors would control the cocaine market.
Not only would the trade deficit grow, the
government's stranglehold on many South
American puppet regimes would loosen as
they gained financial independence, thus
allowing anti-capitalist sentiments to run
rampant. The nightmare had to be stopped.
By lunchtime Paul and Babe had turned
.five acres of dense tropical forest into a bar-
ren canvas, ready to accept industrial pro-
gress. Cortland was ecstatic. He'd be able.
to deploy the tarmac unit in a couple days.
To show his appreciation, he had the cook
whip up a tenfold batch of
BRAZILIAN BREAKFAST LOGS
•
4 flour tortillas
8 eggs, beaten within an inch of their life
• ½ pound chorizo sausage
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
• salsa
Cook the chorizo in a large frying pan
(medium heat) till it's evenly browned, then
pour any excess grease into an old can (not
down the sink). Next, add the abused eggs
to the slightly greasy pan and stir this muck
on a regular basis. At the same time, melt
the cheese onto the tortillas in your toaster
or oven. When the ovums have reached your
preferred level of firmness, divide the stuff
equally amongst the torts, douse with salsa
and eat hardy. Refried beans, green onions,
tomatoes and green peppers are but a few
of the ingredients you can add to enhance
your logs.
BANANOS BUNYANOS
• 4 bananas, cut in half lengthwise
4 tablespoons oil
real maple syrup
Heat the oil in a manly skillet till it emits wisps
of smoke. Carefully place the banana slices
into the hot oil. Cook one side for about 43
seconds, then flip as gently as possible with
a spatula. After another brief chunk of time,
withdraw your nanas from the molten oil and
drain them on paper towels. Next, lay them
out on plates, coat with maple syrup and wolf
'em down.
SLASH AND BURN
The oversized heroes continued their
labors after lunch. Paul's axe rocked the
ground as it ripped huge sapodilla trees out
by their roots. The shrieks of macaws and
gibbons filled the air as the evicted animals
fled for safety. Paul grinned and looked up
at the misty blue sky. It felt great to swing
an axe again. Then he noticed a plume of
thick smoke about half a mile away. Being
a kind, caring individual, Paul decided to go
see what the problem was.
As he neared the blaze, Paul heard
engines and shouting. He crested a hill and
a whole work crew in maroon and yellow
uniforms came into view. Half of the men had
flame throwing devices which they were
using to ignite the surrounding foliage. Paul
was outraged. Only a tenderfoot would use
a flamethrower to clear a forest. Real men
used axes..
"What's the big idea? Who are you and
why are you torching this forest?"
A supervisor-type in a blue hard hat looked
up through the smoke and yelled through his
megaphone. "We're a licensed deforestation
crew, commisioned by the Burger Thing
Corporation. This land is to be cleared,
planted and used for cattle grazing and
slaughtering. You are trespassing on com-
pany property. Please leave immediately or
face stiff lines and possible imprisonment."
Paul laughed and turned away. He was a
good natured man, and whining sissies who
couldn't even wield an axe just didn't bother
him. It was almost five o'clock, so he headed
back to base camp. As he trudged along
through the highway of stumps he had
created, Paul realized that, although visibility
was great in the treeless tract, he didn't see
Babe anywhere. Something was definitely
wrong. His heart thumped as he searched
the perimeters of the clearing, but the blue
bovine was nowhere to be found
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT MONTH
G&S
3rd WORLD CLOTHING DIVISION
HODAD SKATEBOARD NOT INCLUDED
7081 CONSOLIDATED WAY SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA 92121-2804