Manpot's Tales of the Tropics Read Online Free Page A

acrid smell.
    Floyd and L'Amour quickly found the source of all
this destruction….someone had left the coffee pot on…two long weeks
ago.
    Of course, that's what happens when you leave a
"blind man" to turn off the appliances.
    Weeks later life was back to normal for Floyd,
L'Amour and Leon. The apartment was repainted, refurbished and
smoke free. L'Amour swore he'd never play "blind" again...and Leon
was happy to give up his "guide dog" duties and just romp around
Central Park as a "normal" hound.
    But one thing Floyd and L'Amour did promise…they
would return to that magic island but maybe...just maybe...this
time Leon would have to stay in Manhattan and L'Amour would be able
to catch every amazing sight without fear of being busted.

THE LAST GREAT BEACH BONFIRE
    They were the boys of summer….a hot summer in the
sixties when they stood shoulder to shoulder with Martin Luther
King to bring freedom and civil rights to the South. Their homes
were firebombed by the Klan...their leader was killed...but they
fought for that freedom and change.
    Now it’s another summer day...far, far away...July 4,
2002 on the white sands of Little Apple Bay on the Caribbean island
of Tortola...
    For more than thirty years these boys of summer have
celebrated this day when America shines a beacon of freedom by
lighting their own beacon…a bonfire from collected driftwood and
palm fronds...
    On this day the men collected a huge pile in the
middle of the sand...close enough to the water so the high tide
would carry away the burnt embers later. They wiped their
sweat-streaked faces and sipped cold beers as they admired their
work…The trade winds blew, the tropical sun beat down and life was
good for these history makers...
    That’s when the “man from the hill” ran panting into
the picture...This man lives in a home that hangs precariously over
the bay. There he holds cocktail parties for his influential pals
from Washington DC and Broadway.
    The boys, of course, are never invited.
    There is no doubt our neighbour fancies himself as a
man of influence...a man to be listened to. We think of him as a
rather "colourful" annoyance.
    “You have to move the fire”, he wheezed,” last year
we had to call the fire department when the sparks blew up the
hill.”
    None of the boys ever heard of the fire department
from nearby Capoons Bay even being called….they certainly didn’t
show up...but the “boys”, one with more than eight decades under
his belt, faithfully moved the wood further down the beach...
    God forbid an errant spark should disturb "Mr.
Colourful's" happy hour...
    Then the fire department (one volunteer) showed
up...
    “A concerned citizen has complained...We can't let
you light the fire,” he explained...though his broad smile showed
what he was really thinking...
    There was nothing for it…the annual gourmet bar b q
would go on as planned…without the fire...
    The sun sank into the Atlantic giving the “boys” a
spectacular lightshow….the bright stars started piercing the inky
sky when suddenly an orange glow filled the beach...The flames from
the fire shot to the sky...the embers swirled...the boys cheered
and the ladies who’d stood by their sides clapped...
    Everyone formed a giant circle and sang "We shall
overcome".
    Suddenly those turbulent sixties in the South didn’t
seem so very far away...They were still rebels.
    It was a wonderful night to celebrate freedom...a
freedom these “boys” had fought so hard for...
     
    Next morning the “concerned citizen” called..."You
defied me,” he steamed.…
    And just minutes later two members of the local
constabulary showed up...
    The case of the errant bonfire was growing
serious.
    There was only one thing for the boys to do...send
out the secret weapon...Miss Elizabeth. Now Miss Elizabeth is a
proper white-haired Bostonian lady married to the ringleader of
this aging crew of "troublemakers". She'd stood by her husband as
they'd been burned out their home