24 January 2020
Story #975
R. Linda:
I don't know if you watch The Curse of Oak Island on the telly or not, but me family has for the past 5 years (maybe it is been the entire 7, I really don't know because of all that digging and mud . . . after a while it all be the same old same old). Sometimes a "Bobby Dazzler" appears out of the muck and rock and we all gather closer to the screen to try to see the jewel or the gold through all the dried-on dirt from years of laying in the sod. We get excited that maybe the Lagina brothers are close to finding a treasure on the island!
And season after season we are disappointed that nope, nope, noppers (as the Weasil would say), we still don't know the exact location of the so-called money pit.
However, we are charmed weekly by visiting treasure theorists invited into the "war room" to expound on their ideas and theories of who, where, why and what happened that treasure be most certainly hidden somewhere on Oak Island, if not all over it. We get a kick out of the paintings, the carved rocks, the cabalistic crosses, the pentagrams, and most of all Marty Lagina's sceptical expressions as questions are asked, sort of answered, and new and usually crazy theories digested.
Then suddenly, we are knocked out of our sceptical reverie by Rick Lagina thanking the theorist for their information and time, and they are let go with, "We'll keep that in mind and let you know if we find anything." Uh, huh.
I have sat through quite a few of these theories, and they are sublimely preposterous most of the time. The kiddie-like drawings on a map, the French words and names, the pounding into me mind—it's all Templar-related—sets my brain reeling!
The last two theorists, one with three paintings superimposed over "Nolan's Cross" and then the last one, the pentagram superimposed over the paintings... well, that set me to laughing out loud, much to my viewing family's annoyance. I be sorry, I take all the theories with large grains of sea salt. And like large grains of sea salt, the ideas and so-called proofs are too much to swallow.
When Oak Island is broadcast, it's usually a late day at work for me. So I eat dinner in front of the TV to watch the latest trek through mud, rock, and swamp, so I don't miss a thing. The Tuesday before the last episode, I watched it as I munched on hotter-than-hell tacos. Oh yeah, baby (as Marty Lagina says A LOT), those taco shells with the hot stuff baked in and then loads of hot salsa dumped on top of the mixture inside, oh heaven, baby!
Anyway, you know what happened, I be sure. Tired as I was, I nodded off while watching and eating, and things became a jumble. That night, it was not just any theorist on Oak Island, sitting in the war room, it was another glued to the telly watcher AND theorist, one Weasil. Yes, indeed, imagine me surprise when stomping into the war room, it was someone I knew! There he was looking like Leonardo DiCaprio, all serious like it was the Blood Diamonds movie set, and ready to theorise and there I was at home pulling on Tonya's sleeve to look at the screen, all the while yelling that Weasil was on the telly, baby!
I watched riveted as he sat down with a sly smile and the "team" in the war room settled in to hear what he had to say.
"Well, first let me welcome you to Oak Island," Marty said, "I'm sure what you have to present will be fascinating."
"One wordie," Weas said, "Templars." He held up a finger for emphasis.
Everyone in the war room (including me in front of the telly) shifted in their seats and leaned forward as if not to miss a Weasil word.
"Back in Scottie-land itz common knowledge datty da Ross Templars had a lotta gold treasure an dey floated dere boaties ta New Scottie-land aka Nova Scottie."
After a lot of WHAT? What did he say? The Weasil sighed and forced himself (and it must have been painful for him) to use proper English, repeating what he said so everyone could understand him.
After repeating himself in the Queen's English with a hint of Scottish burr he sighed and continued.
"I haves me a piccie, I mean picture fur ya to lookie at. I mean, I have a picture for you to take a peekie, I mean peek at." And with that, he signalled Rabby (yes, THAT Kincaid), and into the room, his large self shuffled in, Doc Martens scuffing the floor, kilt swinging as he dragged an extremely large square object, covered in a huge sheet, to the end of the table. He was red in the face and breathing heavily from the exertion, which made me think he dragged it from a pickup truck, up the war room stairs and into the room itself. No help from the Weasil, naturally.
With the flourish of a magician's hand, Weasil pulled the covering off and there exposed to all was a Klimt-like painting, like you'd see in a museum, all weird little painted triangles that looked like deranged digital pixels, that had to be studied closely to figure out what the heck it was of. Well, as the "team" squinted at it, Weasil realised they were not seeing what he was, so he got up with a pointer that had collapsed (otherwise I don't know where it came from) and banged it at the centre of the painting.
"THIS, see THIS?"
"See what?" Marty asked, perplexed, raising his glasses to his forehead. "All I see is a lot of abstract triangles."
"EGG-ACTLY!" The Weasil declared, and with another bang of his wand on the picture, he pointed with it to the right of the centre. "THIS is notty, I mean not, a cross, nor a pentagram, it is . . . " and he paused for dramatic effect, "IS AN X MARKS DA SPOTTY, I mean spot."
"Uh . . . " Rick said, taking his glasses off and squinting at the wand, which was pointing at a small neon green triangle. I don't know what you are saying; I see no X."
The Weas stamped his impatient foot and gave out an impatient groan. He whipped the picture with the wand and said with a hint of losing it, "THIS right here, that one triangle iz different from the others, so it's where the treasure iz buried!"
"How do you figure?" One of the team members asked, half out of his chair, leaning toward the painting for a better view.
"BECAUSE it ain't the same colour as the rest of da paintin'. If you superimpose the paintin' over Nolan's Cross, X marks the spot! Or, in dis casie 'ere, da green triangle marks it."
Rick had a smirk on his face like he thought Weasil was exactly what we know him to be, an insane nutcase.
Leaving the painting, Weasil picked up a remote and flipped the on button. On the screen behind one side of the team table, a picture of Nolan's Cross popped up.
"Okie dokie, see dere, now watch dissy here," Weasil said, clicking another button. The painting appeared transposed over Nolan's Cross, and it sort of fit. Who knew?
Attempting proper English one more time, he said, "See the green triangle?" He didn't wait for confirmation but rattled onward, clicking another button that put an X squarely in the neon green triangle.
No one said a word, but they did look at each other, and the viewer caught their amused expressions in some cases and sceptical expressions in others as they all sat back in their chairs, looking at Weasil like he had two heads instead of one. Seeing that the presentation was not going well, he sighed and sat down to explain his theory.
"Long, long ago, in Scottie-land, me relatives, the Ross Clan, had come home from the Crusades, and it was said a lot of gold candlesticks appeared around the family castle suddenly. These candlesticks had embossed dragons on 'em. The Ross laddies were seen at parties wearing gold and diamonds in the shape of dragons, whereas before they didn't adorn themselves with anything but kilt pins." He coughed for effect. Everyone was silent listening, some with hands folded on their bellies like they were taking in a load of bullshite. This posture did not deter the Weasil, oh no, he plunged on.
"It was rumoured dat da Ross Clan were masons and . . . TEMPLARS, baby! Yesh, as Sean Connery would say." No one smiled, no one laughed as that last remark fell flat. But it didn't stop him. "Me ancestors were TEMPLARS later Masons of the Dragons. A lot of hocus pokes going on in that dere castle. In time, the Ross Clan (for some unknown reason) hid all the gold candlesticks. In the shroud of nightfall, they transported all the treasure from the East to ships waiting in harbour and sailed southwest to Nova Scottie-land! There they came upon an island just off da mainland and dere dey buried the goodies! And that island was . . . OAK ISLAND!"
"Wait a minute," Greg Tester (a team leader said, "Masons of the Dragons? What is that?"
With a clap of his hand, he woke up the nodding Rabby Kincaid, who jumped and tore out the door. A moment later, he came back with another giant poster with a sheet over it. He put it over the green triangle thing and stepped back with a huge smile, like he had just eaten 10 lbs. of highland beef.
"DIS, I mean THIS HERE, is the insignia of the Masons of the Dragons." And with another magician's hand flourish, pulled off the covering to reveal this:
"Da big dragon eaten' da little dragon THAT is the insignia of the Masons of the Dragons!" No one said a word. "Ya see da big guy is eatin' on da little guy an' if you transpose the dragons over the green triangle ya get an X, and X marks da spotty."
And he transposed another slide of the large dragon poster over the neon green triangle and got an X at the head of the big dragon biting down on the tail of the little dragon. SIGH, I guess so, but how far-fetched was THAT, I ask you? Oh, it got better.
"What is the history of these Masons of the Salamander, I mean Dragon?" Marty asked, scowling.
"Welly," catching himself, he switched it up to English we can all understand (UNFORTUNATELY in this case). "Aeons ago, before the dinosaurs, there was a race of dragons, much like what you see here," and whap with the wand against the dragon poster. "There was a race of dragon people . . . well, sorter people, but ya know what I mean. Anyway, these dragon people's skins were encrusted with diamonds like ya see in da piccie, I mean picture here." Another wham at the poster for emphasis. "Dey were reptiles wit brains that landed here from the Draconic star galaxy system and dey were so smart they out thought every livin' thing on the earth! And most of all, when dey got here dey were hungry so dey ate all the other species until there were none left."
Big pause here for effect. Yup.
"Den dey realised dey were still hungry and da only thing ta do was eat each other." And wham the wand hit the poster to emphasise one dragon eating another.
"What has this got to do with Oak Island?" Marty finally asked with more than a hint of frustration in his voice.
"Welly, da alpha males ate all da little dragon people and dey grew bigger and bigger and so did dere brain. Dey hit on sumthin' though. All the dragons they ate they ate from the belly up leaving da skin because to try crunchin' on diamonds broke dere teefers, I mean TEETH! So dey put all the skins together and buried dem in the desert where dey was livin'. In time they ate each other since dey had nuthin' ta eat on and there was only one dragon left. He died, not buried, and in time the sands of the desert covered 'em up. Den long later, during the Crusades a Ross relative of mine, came upon him where the wind had blown the sands back and he saw first the sparkle of diamonds and a glitter of gold." Another long pause, his eyes glittering with the idea of what he was saying. Geez!
"Sos, when he got closer he discovered a shiteload, oops I mean a SHIP LOAD of diamonds an' gold, an' he called his brothers and cousins and the entire Ross Clan got shovels and dug up the dragon and loaded the diamonds and precious metal. And the interesting thing is this dragon's hide was gold, so when they got the gold and diamonds home, they fashioned them into candlesticks and jewellery!" He looked around the table, waiting for a WOWEY WOW WOW or some explanation of being VERY impressed, but that didn't happen, so he continued to bumble on.
Are you confused? I sure was and could only imagine what the "team" thought, none of it good.
"This very practice of making candlesticks made me ancestors experts, but dere was no category fur it, so the peeps, I mean people, called dem Masons, like they did for anyone who fashioned anything into something and because the Templars were considered outlaws at dat time, but dey was originally TEMPLARS baby!"
Okay then, it makes perfect sense to me- NOT!
"The other clans got wind of this 'TREASURE' and so Clan Ross gathered all the stuffins' up and shipped dem east and ended up on Oakie Island!"
"That's . . . that's it?"Rick Lagina asked.
"Yuppers!" Weasil declared all triumphant. "Oh wait, me ancestors realised along da way dat if dere was one gold and diamond dragon, dere had to be others. Sos under cover of darkness dey sailed west ta da desert where after seven years and one losing his life, dey found hundreds of buried dragon skins all gold and diamonds! These they dug up and instead of taking them ta Scottie-land, they sailed fer Oak Island and buried the booty all over the island AFTER they made all that stuffins' into candlesticks."
Oh boy! That no one was laughing was concerning. Because for one, they were either buying this garbage or two, getting ready to ponce on Weasil's arse for wasting their digging time with the most outrageous story of a theory ever proposed on the face of the earth.
Jack Begley, one of the team, was nodding. He blurted out pointing at the superimposed slides, "You know I don't buy the dragon thing, but I do buy there is treasure on this island, and it may be other places on the island besides the money pit, but I don't believe in dragons, especially diamond and gold dragon-like machines that came from another planet, or galaxy if you will, and walked the earth eating MEAT to exist when on another planet if you think about it, there probably was no meat and if they were metal and gemstones really? Why would they need to eat meat?"
Jack sort of lost it after that, so I won't go into it, but Weasil and Rabby grabbed their stuff and snuck out while the team were pulling their hair out, screaming, and generally proving that chaos can happen in a small room, WHICH is not unusual after Weasil pays a visit.
I don't know what happened after that because I was so knackered that me face fell into the refried beans on me plate. A mess of dripping beans ran down my shirt front as I realised I had dozed off. I had got up to clean meself off and ended up in the shower and straight to bed, so I have no clue about the ending of Oak Island that night.
In a way, I don't want to know the ending. I bet it ended like it always does: someone finds something and says, "This is it—YEAH, BABY!" Then we tuned in the following week to find out that something was a lot of nothing, but it was an interesting side note. Oh well, I'll probably watch until they shut the venture down or find THE treasure.
TEMPLARS BABY!
Gabe
Copyright © 2020 All rights reserved
Story #975
R. Linda:
I don't know if you watch The Curse of Oak Island on the telly or not, but me family has for the past 5 years (maybe it is been the entire 7, I really don't know because of all that digging and mud . . . after a while it all be the same old same old). Sometimes a "Bobby Dazzler" appears out of the muck and rock and we all gather closer to the screen to try to see the jewel or the gold through all the dried-on dirt from years of laying in the sod. We get excited that maybe the Lagina brothers are close to finding a treasure on the island!
And season after season we are disappointed that nope, nope, noppers (as the Weasil would say), we still don't know the exact location of the so-called money pit.
However, we are charmed weekly by visiting treasure theorists invited into the "war room" to expound on their ideas and theories of who, where, why and what happened that treasure be most certainly hidden somewhere on Oak Island, if not all over it. We get a kick out of the paintings, the carved rocks, the cabalistic crosses, the pentagrams, and most of all Marty Lagina's sceptical expressions as questions are asked, sort of answered, and new and usually crazy theories digested.
Then suddenly, we are knocked out of our sceptical reverie by Rick Lagina thanking the theorist for their information and time, and they are let go with, "We'll keep that in mind and let you know if we find anything." Uh, huh.
I have sat through quite a few of these theories, and they are sublimely preposterous most of the time. The kiddie-like drawings on a map, the French words and names, the pounding into me mind—it's all Templar-related—sets my brain reeling!
The last two theorists, one with three paintings superimposed over "Nolan's Cross" and then the last one, the pentagram superimposed over the paintings... well, that set me to laughing out loud, much to my viewing family's annoyance. I be sorry, I take all the theories with large grains of sea salt. And like large grains of sea salt, the ideas and so-called proofs are too much to swallow.
When Oak Island is broadcast, it's usually a late day at work for me. So I eat dinner in front of the TV to watch the latest trek through mud, rock, and swamp, so I don't miss a thing. The Tuesday before the last episode, I watched it as I munched on hotter-than-hell tacos. Oh yeah, baby (as Marty Lagina says A LOT), those taco shells with the hot stuff baked in and then loads of hot salsa dumped on top of the mixture inside, oh heaven, baby!
Anyway, you know what happened, I be sure. Tired as I was, I nodded off while watching and eating, and things became a jumble. That night, it was not just any theorist on Oak Island, sitting in the war room, it was another glued to the telly watcher AND theorist, one Weasil. Yes, indeed, imagine me surprise when stomping into the war room, it was someone I knew! There he was looking like Leonardo DiCaprio, all serious like it was the Blood Diamonds movie set, and ready to theorise and there I was at home pulling on Tonya's sleeve to look at the screen, all the while yelling that Weasil was on the telly, baby!
I watched riveted as he sat down with a sly smile and the "team" in the war room settled in to hear what he had to say.
"Well, first let me welcome you to Oak Island," Marty said, "I'm sure what you have to present will be fascinating."
"One wordie," Weas said, "Templars." He held up a finger for emphasis.
Everyone in the war room (including me in front of the telly) shifted in their seats and leaned forward as if not to miss a Weasil word.
"Back in Scottie-land itz common knowledge datty da Ross Templars had a lotta gold treasure an dey floated dere boaties ta New Scottie-land aka Nova Scottie."
After a lot of WHAT? What did he say? The Weasil sighed and forced himself (and it must have been painful for him) to use proper English, repeating what he said so everyone could understand him.
After repeating himself in the Queen's English with a hint of Scottish burr he sighed and continued.
"I haves me a piccie, I mean picture fur ya to lookie at. I mean, I have a picture for you to take a peekie, I mean peek at." And with that, he signalled Rabby (yes, THAT Kincaid), and into the room, his large self shuffled in, Doc Martens scuffing the floor, kilt swinging as he dragged an extremely large square object, covered in a huge sheet, to the end of the table. He was red in the face and breathing heavily from the exertion, which made me think he dragged it from a pickup truck, up the war room stairs and into the room itself. No help from the Weasil, naturally.
With the flourish of a magician's hand, Weasil pulled the covering off and there exposed to all was a Klimt-like painting, like you'd see in a museum, all weird little painted triangles that looked like deranged digital pixels, that had to be studied closely to figure out what the heck it was of. Well, as the "team" squinted at it, Weasil realised they were not seeing what he was, so he got up with a pointer that had collapsed (otherwise I don't know where it came from) and banged it at the centre of the painting.
"THIS, see THIS?"
 |
| Yeah THIS |
"EGG-ACTLY!" The Weasil declared, and with another bang of his wand on the picture, he pointed with it to the right of the centre. "THIS is notty, I mean not, a cross, nor a pentagram, it is . . . " and he paused for dramatic effect, "IS AN X MARKS DA SPOTTY, I mean spot."
"Uh . . . " Rick said, taking his glasses off and squinting at the wand, which was pointing at a small neon green triangle. I don't know what you are saying; I see no X."
The Weas stamped his impatient foot and gave out an impatient groan. He whipped the picture with the wand and said with a hint of losing it, "THIS right here, that one triangle iz different from the others, so it's where the treasure iz buried!"
"How do you figure?" One of the team members asked, half out of his chair, leaning toward the painting for a better view.
"BECAUSE it ain't the same colour as the rest of da paintin'. If you superimpose the paintin' over Nolan's Cross, X marks the spot! Or, in dis casie 'ere, da green triangle marks it."
Rick had a smirk on his face like he thought Weasil was exactly what we know him to be, an insane nutcase.
Leaving the painting, Weasil picked up a remote and flipped the on button. On the screen behind one side of the team table, a picture of Nolan's Cross popped up.
"Okie dokie, see dere, now watch dissy here," Weasil said, clicking another button. The painting appeared transposed over Nolan's Cross, and it sort of fit. Who knew?
Attempting proper English one more time, he said, "See the green triangle?" He didn't wait for confirmation but rattled onward, clicking another button that put an X squarely in the neon green triangle.
No one said a word, but they did look at each other, and the viewer caught their amused expressions in some cases and sceptical expressions in others as they all sat back in their chairs, looking at Weasil like he had two heads instead of one. Seeing that the presentation was not going well, he sighed and sat down to explain his theory.
"Long, long ago, in Scottie-land, me relatives, the Ross Clan, had come home from the Crusades, and it was said a lot of gold candlesticks appeared around the family castle suddenly. These candlesticks had embossed dragons on 'em. The Ross laddies were seen at parties wearing gold and diamonds in the shape of dragons, whereas before they didn't adorn themselves with anything but kilt pins." He coughed for effect. Everyone was silent listening, some with hands folded on their bellies like they were taking in a load of bullshite. This posture did not deter the Weasil, oh no, he plunged on.
"It was rumoured dat da Ross Clan were masons and . . . TEMPLARS, baby! Yesh, as Sean Connery would say." No one smiled, no one laughed as that last remark fell flat. But it didn't stop him. "Me ancestors were TEMPLARS later Masons of the Dragons. A lot of hocus pokes going on in that dere castle. In time, the Ross Clan (for some unknown reason) hid all the gold candlesticks. In the shroud of nightfall, they transported all the treasure from the East to ships waiting in harbour and sailed southwest to Nova Scottie-land! There they came upon an island just off da mainland and dere dey buried the goodies! And that island was . . . OAK ISLAND!"
"Wait a minute," Greg Tester (a team leader said, "Masons of the Dragons? What is that?"
With a clap of his hand, he woke up the nodding Rabby Kincaid, who jumped and tore out the door. A moment later, he came back with another giant poster with a sheet over it. He put it over the green triangle thing and stepped back with a huge smile, like he had just eaten 10 lbs. of highland beef.
"DIS, I mean THIS HERE, is the insignia of the Masons of the Dragons." And with another magician's hand flourish, pulled off the covering to reveal this:
 |
| Looked more like an advert for The Game of Thrones |
"Da big dragon eaten' da little dragon THAT is the insignia of the Masons of the Dragons!" No one said a word. "Ya see da big guy is eatin' on da little guy an' if you transpose the dragons over the green triangle ya get an X, and X marks da spotty."
And he transposed another slide of the large dragon poster over the neon green triangle and got an X at the head of the big dragon biting down on the tail of the little dragon. SIGH, I guess so, but how far-fetched was THAT, I ask you? Oh, it got better.
"What is the history of these Masons of the Salamander, I mean Dragon?" Marty asked, scowling.
"Welly," catching himself, he switched it up to English we can all understand (UNFORTUNATELY in this case). "Aeons ago, before the dinosaurs, there was a race of dragons, much like what you see here," and whap with the wand against the dragon poster. "There was a race of dragon people . . . well, sorter people, but ya know what I mean. Anyway, these dragon people's skins were encrusted with diamonds like ya see in da piccie, I mean picture here." Another wham at the poster for emphasis. "Dey were reptiles wit brains that landed here from the Draconic star galaxy system and dey were so smart they out thought every livin' thing on the earth! And most of all, when dey got here dey were hungry so dey ate all the other species until there were none left."
Big pause here for effect. Yup.
"Den dey realised dey were still hungry and da only thing ta do was eat each other." And wham the wand hit the poster to emphasise one dragon eating another.
"What has this got to do with Oak Island?" Marty finally asked with more than a hint of frustration in his voice.
"Welly, da alpha males ate all da little dragon people and dey grew bigger and bigger and so did dere brain. Dey hit on sumthin' though. All the dragons they ate they ate from the belly up leaving da skin because to try crunchin' on diamonds broke dere teefers, I mean TEETH! So dey put all the skins together and buried dem in the desert where dey was livin'. In time they ate each other since dey had nuthin' ta eat on and there was only one dragon left. He died, not buried, and in time the sands of the desert covered 'em up. Den long later, during the Crusades a Ross relative of mine, came upon him where the wind had blown the sands back and he saw first the sparkle of diamonds and a glitter of gold." Another long pause, his eyes glittering with the idea of what he was saying. Geez!
"Sos, when he got closer he discovered a shiteload, oops I mean a SHIP LOAD of diamonds an' gold, an' he called his brothers and cousins and the entire Ross Clan got shovels and dug up the dragon and loaded the diamonds and precious metal. And the interesting thing is this dragon's hide was gold, so when they got the gold and diamonds home, they fashioned them into candlesticks and jewellery!" He looked around the table, waiting for a WOWEY WOW WOW or some explanation of being VERY impressed, but that didn't happen, so he continued to bumble on.
Are you confused? I sure was and could only imagine what the "team" thought, none of it good.
"This very practice of making candlesticks made me ancestors experts, but dere was no category fur it, so the peeps, I mean people, called dem Masons, like they did for anyone who fashioned anything into something and because the Templars were considered outlaws at dat time, but dey was originally TEMPLARS baby!"
Okay then, it makes perfect sense to me- NOT!
"The other clans got wind of this 'TREASURE' and so Clan Ross gathered all the stuffins' up and shipped dem east and ended up on Oakie Island!"
"That's . . . that's it?"Rick Lagina asked.
"Yuppers!" Weasil declared all triumphant. "Oh wait, me ancestors realised along da way dat if dere was one gold and diamond dragon, dere had to be others. Sos under cover of darkness dey sailed west ta da desert where after seven years and one losing his life, dey found hundreds of buried dragon skins all gold and diamonds! These they dug up and instead of taking them ta Scottie-land, they sailed fer Oak Island and buried the booty all over the island AFTER they made all that stuffins' into candlesticks."
Oh boy! That no one was laughing was concerning. Because for one, they were either buying this garbage or two, getting ready to ponce on Weasil's arse for wasting their digging time with the most outrageous story of a theory ever proposed on the face of the earth.
Jack Begley, one of the team, was nodding. He blurted out pointing at the superimposed slides, "You know I don't buy the dragon thing, but I do buy there is treasure on this island, and it may be other places on the island besides the money pit, but I don't believe in dragons, especially diamond and gold dragon-like machines that came from another planet, or galaxy if you will, and walked the earth eating MEAT to exist when on another planet if you think about it, there probably was no meat and if they were metal and gemstones really? Why would they need to eat meat?"
Jack sort of lost it after that, so I won't go into it, but Weasil and Rabby grabbed their stuff and snuck out while the team were pulling their hair out, screaming, and generally proving that chaos can happen in a small room, WHICH is not unusual after Weasil pays a visit.
I don't know what happened after that because I was so knackered that me face fell into the refried beans on me plate. A mess of dripping beans ran down my shirt front as I realised I had dozed off. I had got up to clean meself off and ended up in the shower and straight to bed, so I have no clue about the ending of Oak Island that night.
In a way, I don't want to know the ending. I bet it ended like it always does: someone finds something and says, "This is it—YEAH, BABY!" Then we tuned in the following week to find out that something was a lot of nothing, but it was an interesting side note. Oh well, I'll probably watch until they shut the venture down or find THE treasure.
TEMPLARS BABY!
Gabe
Copyright © 2020 All rights reserved
