The Worst Story Ever Told- Part One

   Go to The Kentucky of Taiwan

The most unique tales coming from this island of Taiwan don’t usually happen in the bigger cities.  In the capital city, you won’t experience a store clerk asking a foreigner for assistance in reading Mandarin. Not bizarre enough? Ever been chased by a pack of wild monkeys? Probably not on the entire West side of the island. 

You have to travel to the Kentucky of Taiwan for these kinds of adventures, a place called Too East. In this magically fertile ground of bizarre narratives, you will find Taiwan’s nature at its finest to further inspire these interesting anecdotes. The typhoon waves often pummel the coastline. The waterfalls roar loud enough to be heard inside a bank at times.  For an added bonus, oxen can even be found in front of laundromats.

When you come to Too East, the monkeys will be waiting for you on the guardrails of the highway. Just don’t show them your teeth. If you do show them your teeth, prepare yourself to be chased by a pack of two-legged vile and angry speed demons looking to dine on your corpse.

The Legendary Surfer Sid Chillin' in More East

   

Too East also holds the dubious distinction of being the birthplace of The Worst Story Ever Told. Surfer Sid still resides there to keep the legend of this anecdote going. He shacks up in an Adobe Hut made from his own two hands in a more remote village of Too East ,called More East. Surfer Sid moved to More East over a decade ago to avoid the pressures of mainstream life in Too East.

Surfer Sid can be just as elusive to find as the perfect wave. Scoutin’ waves takes up almost all of his time. However, he does devote the second Tuesday of even-numbered months, in the odd years, to telling the Worst Story Ever Told to anyone he deems fitting enough to hear his folktale.  

On Tuesday, June 12th, 2015, I set out from the other side of the Island,in a place called So Much Six, to hear this legendary saga. I stuffed the glove box of my station wagon with CD’s and cassettes. The music and old school equipment helped me get on the same wavelength as Surfer Sid. The rumor was that he was still carrying a Nokia flip phone.

The seven hour journey over the mountain found me in some choppy water from the beginning of the trip.  My A/C broke at the five minute mark of the excursion. I was sweating like a hostage for the remaining seven hours of the trip. Smoke seared from the engine of my car, by the time it rattled into Too East.

I popped the hood of my car when I got on top of the hill above Too East. I suspected I was within smelling distance of Surfer Sid.  I pretended like I knew what I was checking for in the hood of my car as I scoured the hills for a brown and red hut with a dozen surfboards in the front of it. This was the only tip I got about how to spot his hut. I suddenly heard the snarl of an angry dog. I thought, “This must be the angry stoner dog I heard so much about back in So Much Six.”

How to Chill Surfer Sid's Dog

While staring into the eyes of this mountain dog with a dotted tongue, I had to think fast. “What did Wilber The Dog Whisperer tell me before I left So Much Six about how to handle this situation?”

I fumbled through the pockets of my blue and yellow board shorts until I found my defense for this hostile situation. First, I felt the bits of melted cheese stuck to my pockets. After that, I quickly chucked the remnants of my grub at the snappy dog’s feet. I thought, “Get to the car quick!”

Meanwhile, the dog rolled with delight on top of the cheese sandwich repeatedly before feasting on his treat. This gave me time to go to car to turn on the CD player in the car. As per the instructions of Wilber the Dog Whisperer, I proceeded to blast my Best Of Jimi Hendrix CD to help calm the mutt.

I returned from my car to continue to coerce my four-legged adversary into an even more passive position. When he licked his lips and howled for more cheese sandwiches, I knew he was going to let me chill with him as I waited for Surfer Sid. From there, I crouched down in front of his dog dish and lit the joint in my pocket. I proceeded to set it on top of his dog dish for his enjoyment.

Cat the Stoner Dog

The little dude got down on all fours behind the joint, and started  puffing the hell out of it, while Jimi Hendrix continued to echo through the hills of More East and down onto the coastline of Too East.

   Hours later,  the legendary Surfer Sid came home to find me curled up on the patio furniture  with his stoned dog. He hopped out of his 1978 yellow and red VW van with an arm-full of cases of Taiwan Beers. Without ever having questioned what I was doing at his house with his dog, he heaved an icy cold Taiwan beer at me. He sat on the foldable Bamboo chair on his patio and shook his head, “‘Bruah. It's flatski out there! Been flatski since Typhoon Yamasaki back in '01. “

He busted out with laughter when something else  sunk in for him. “Bruah, I check a lot of waves. But, I haven't surfed a wave in like 18 years. Dude, what happened? “

He tossed another set of brews at us and said, “Bruah. How about you and I get in the van with Cat, and see if we can find us some waves?”

“Sure, but who is Cat?”

“My dog. I named him Cat. “

He fell of his chair from chuckling so hard at the name of his dog, Cat, “Come on. I will tell you a story about my non-animal bruah from the Old School Days here in More East, Johnny D.”

Next Week

Find out where Surfer Sid and Cat the Dog took me to tell The Worst Story Ever Told ...