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I was driving Mr. and Mrs. Marmaduke Mackintosh-McCampbell back from Dufftown, where they had taken the morning tour of Balvenie Distillery. As I came over the hill and down along the Loch-side, I saw a sort of boiling in the water. I carried on a wee bit, and when I looked again, there was a huge grayish-brownish hump — like a great oak whisky cask — floating half above the waterline. It was huge and shiny and brownish and . . . humpy.

“Sweet Jesu” I said, “Do you see that?”

Mrs. Mackintosh-McCampbell, who is a pathological liar and a drunk, said, “Aye, I see it clear as day, and I’ve not been in a bar yet this morning!”

“It’s Nessy,” I said. “I swear on the Stone of Scone, it’s Nessy!”

“Ach, it’s an eel! It’s an eel!” said Mr. Mackintosh-McCampbell.

“There’s no eels that big,” I said.

”Ach, it’s otters!” he said.

“There’s no otters that big,” I said.

“Ach, it’s Shaquille O’Neal!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mrs. Mackintosh-McCampbell said. “Honestly, Pumpkin, why on earth would an Irishman be swimming in a Scottish Loch?”

Mr. Mackintosh-McCampbell did not reply. He leaned toward the wee wifey and gave her a good loud sniff. “She is full-bodied sweetness,” he said, “with light spicy notes and a hint of sherry fruitiness.”

“Attention, passengers” I said, “Monster on the starboard bow!”

Mrs. Mackintosh-McCampbell giggled. “Oh, Marmaduke,” she said. “Your finish is long and pleasingly rich.”

“Hello,” I said. “Earth to back seat. Come in, please.”

Just my luck. The Loch Ness monster is doing the backstroke right beside my car, and the only corroborating witnesses are the two drunk octogenarians making out in my back seat.

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 30th, 2005 at 9:31 am and is filed under A-list, Pair O’ Normal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.