Dan and I were just talking on the phone, and composed a lovely entry into the moon pie contest.

Our collaboration was limited to only 100 words per entry, though… so our story had to cut out Rufus the albino green-eyed Asian boy, and his eventual end at the home for the incontinent and criminally insane after blessing the flotilla feast. Also Cut was Barney, and his forest-splitting staccato flatulence. I’ll have to add them to a different, future entry.

It was a lot of fun though… we broke into laughter a few times.

They nestled safetly on top of Scott’s backpack in the center of our boyscout canoe. We entered a calm, broad stretch of river. Dan decided this would be the perfect place for a moonpie feast.

We tied our canoes together, forming a flotila. Hank did the blessing. Then we ate.

Those were the best-tasting, moon-piesiest moon pies ever.

Maybe it was our long journey that made them taste so good.
Or perhaps it was knowing there were no parents within forty miles.

One day our sons will canoe down that river, and celebrate life with a moon pie river feast.

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