Dear Tom and Ray,
I went with some college friends up to Lyons, New York to visit a buddy who had dropped out and joined the work world. (This seemed a much more admirable thing than being a student.) We went night fishing on the Erie Canal and consumed far too much beer and "green" tobacco. I was really gone. I wasn't getting any bites for a long time and complained about this until someone pointed out that my lure was hanging three feet in front of me.
Anyway, at some point, I decided to go for a swim, stripped off my clothes and jumped in the canal. Of course, I hadn’t thought about how I was going to get out. When I was done swimming, I tried to get out by clawing my way up the sides of the canal. I was like a rat trapped in a tank. My friends were doubled over laughing. Finally, someone took pity and directed me to a ladder built into the wall.
On solid ground, I realized that both my forearms where shredded and bloody from trying to claw my way up the sides. We all stumbled back to my friend’s house. He had neither alcohol or hydrogen peroxide. (Why would he?)
Resigned to non-sterilization, I opened his fridge for another beer. There I saw a bottle of Kikkoman Soy Sauce and swaggeringly announced my intentions. Over the sink, I liberally spread the brown liquid over both arms. It took a while for the sensation to reach my brain. Then, from my bowels rose a scream worthy of any soy sauce-weilding samuri. (Of course, we all know from Rambo and other action-packed movies that a scream is the best way to conquer pain.)
I hope you have enjoyed my tale.
Best to you and your readers,