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Uncle Am caves to Aunt Vic

Dear Nephew,


Your Uncle Ambrose has gone underground.


No, I don’t mean your uncle has become a secret agent. And he’s certainly not taken up shady activities. He’s just literally considering going under the ground.


He read an article about these two young men in Toronto who built a man cave just for fun. When the police discovered the cave, they weren’t too amused, but investigators decided there was no evil intent, just two guys wanting a secret place to hang out.


The men had dug a hole that opened into a chamber measuring six feet high, a yard wide and 33 feet long. The walls were supported by plywood planks and the cave was lit by moisture-resistant lights.


Inside, police found beverage containers, a generator, a sump pump, a gas can, food and drink containers, work gloves and a wheelbarrow. There also were two chairs, candy wrappers and pop cans inside the structure. Apparently, if there had ever been TVs, stereos, video games or girlie mags in the cave, the two men had absconded with them.


The bunker was said to be just feet from the tennis venue of the Pan American Games. The report noted that people in the community theorized that the bunker could have been used for anything from a zombie hideout to affordable housing.


After a weeks-long investigation, police filled in the bunker, and told the media they did not believe the bunker was intended to be used for any type of criminal activity. Unless hiding from your wives and their honey do lists is considered a felony.


According to Mark Pugash, police communications director, “Our concern from the outset was, was there anything criminal, or was there any danger to the people of the city or to the city. We're satisfied that neither is the case.”


In other words, the two guys escaped by the skin of their teeth. It’s not clear how they’re dealing with their significant others. They may be wishing the police had locked them up or put them in the witness protection program.


Anyway, after your Uncle Ambrose read the story, he fled down to the basement and I could hear him shuffling around, tossing stuff to the side and mumbling to himself.


“Hey Vic,” your uncle shouted, “have you seen the mattock?”


“What’s a mattock?”


“It’s like a pick except it has a flat blade.”


“You mean, like a toothpick?”


“Never mind. I’ll use a hoe.”


“Use a hoe for what?”


“I plan to dig a bunker — like those guys in Toronto — except it’ll be for practical uses. When the big crash comes, we’ll be able to survive.”


“Now Am, you’re not dumpin’ my canning jars into a hole in the ground. I worked hard puttin’ up our garden vegetables.”


“Don’t worry, Vic. I’ll get a load of canned foods from the Mega Maxi Mart.”


“Good. I hope your green beans and corn will keep you company ’cause I’m not crawlin’ into the ground with you.”


“It’s no different than being in our basement, Vic. That’s underground.”


“Then use the basement for survival, Am. It’s a lot more convenient plus you won’t have to dig for the next six months.”

“Where’s your spirit of adventure, Vic? This’ll be fun.”


“Yeah, just like the fun you had building that 200-foot pier to the Randleman Reservoir. Then you found out there’s a 200-foot no-trespassing buffer all around the lake.”


“The idea was sound.”


“The only sound I heard was the warden dismantling your pier.”


“OK, Vic, maybe this bunker project would be hard on an old man. Hey, I know what. I’ll call Sam to bring his backhoe over here.”


“And run over my flower bed? I don’t think so.”


“What about his Bobcat? It’s a lot smaller.”


“Not in my backyard.”


“Fine then. I’ll just go back to my old project.”


“Ambrose, you’ll never get that contraption to fly.”



Your Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Victoria


Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.