Timmy was a skinny tallish guy, with brownish, neatly combed hair, and when he opened his mouth you saw that two of his front teeth were missing. One of his ears was partly torn off by his wife, a hefty specimen of a woman, who Timmy laughingly called, Ol'Dynamo. There was a scar on Timmy's forehead which was the result of a cut when once he had been thrown out of a 2nd-story window by Ol'Dynamo. Timmy usually stays out of Dynamo's way by sequestering himself in the privacy of his "shack". This night Timmy was more anxious than usual. He had spent the better part of three hours soldering connectors to pieces of coax. It relaxed him just to solder connectors, in fact Timmy has hundreds of odd bits of coax, all with connectors. Overhead, Timmy could hear the heavy foot falls of his big, strong and brutal wife pacing the floor. Timmy knew from experience that the tramping about usually meant that Dynamo was going to appear at the shack door at any moment and demand that Timmy return with her to the "master" bedroom. Dynamo knew better then anyone that the bedroom was inappropiately labelled. In her powerful heart-of-hearts she knew it should have been called "Her Ladyship's" bedroom. As the thumping overhead increased in tempo Timmy did what he never thought he could ever do; i.e., he grabbed his transceiver and a bagfull of coax (and connectors) and headed for the nearest window. Out shot Timmy into the night. Timmy had always wanted to go on a DXpedition, this, he thought, might be his only chance. Within a few days Timmy was winging his way out over the Pacific, heading for the tropical paradise island of Yad Llakcuf. Within hours, Timmy had his station set up under a palm tree, just feet from the gently lapping Pacific. While DXer Timmy checked into all the DX Nets a crowd of bare-breasted native girls stood around giggling and eating bananas. Timmy didn't have much to do for the first few hours: he just sat there looking into space while around the world the ListTakers were hysterically collecting their lists. Hours went by and Timmy just sat there, smiling contentedly, with his headphones on listening to the Lists forming. Occasionally, A Big-Gun Lister would call Timmy to see if he was still there. "I'm still here", he would cry. Excitement grew on the bands. There were at least twenty lists being rounded up. Fights were breaking out all over the 20-meter band. The Frequency Cops were screeching obscenities; every one wanted the QSL information. Timmy was in Ham Heaven. The tropical sun began settling into the horizon and the propagation, alas, was changing. As darkness settled over the Island, Timmy had still not made one single contact. By now, thousands of Hams, from around the world were lined up like chirping sparrows on a telephone line. "Good evening Timmy, this is Jim ... we've got a big list Timmy, and by the way Timmy, last heard you were five and five. How's my signal? Hello Timmy, are you still there ....Hey, Timmy, I can't hear you now Timmy, but if you can still hear me, we'll look for you tomorrow at the same time and frequency. Hey, Timmy can you hear me? Over, over. Yes, yes, fellows, now please be patient, no, no, we will make another list tomorrow. It wouldn't be fair ... we'll make another one tomorrow ... there's my phone, I'll see you all tomorrow". Meanwhile, back on the romantic Island of Yad Llakcuf, Timmy was in the bar trying to arrange with the bartender to get one of the bare-breasted natives to join him in his room. "Why not ask one of the girls yourself, Mr. T.?" asked the barman, incredulously. "Oh, heavens, I couldn't do that," whined Timmy ... "can't you arrange it for me ... I'll just go up to my room and wait." And so, the Big Time DXer and List toady Timmy, slithered into his room, where he spent the night soldering on connectors. On the third day, Big DXer Timmy was down on the beach, under a brilliant sun, and surrounded by a gaggle of half-naked ladies, giggling and eating bananas. The Lists were forming once again; this time they were even bigger and more boisterous than before. Around noon, with still no contacts, the boys were forming the lists by districts and were getting help from some of the very ancient and experienced List Takers. Eva and Snooky, were topside trying to bring order to the humungous pile-up. Timmy knew DXing was not going to be easy ... he had already spent two full days wearing headphones in the hot sun and even though he had not made one single contact he knew the List Takers were doing their best, after all, he reasoned ... they're just trying to help. Around mid afternoon, while Timmy was tossing bananas at the girls and lying back in the hot sand waiting for the List Operation to begin, he suddenly felt a cold chill sweep over him ... spinning around quickly, his beady little eyes came to rest on the towering figure of Ol'Dynamo. "Dynamo, sweety," Timmy winced, What a plea..." Swooping down on him like a 18-ton eagle, even before he could finish his startled greeting. Ol'Dynamo's talons snatched Timmy by the ankle, tossed him over her shoulder like a sack of cats, and headed up the beach and home. To this, the natives squealed and giggled with delight. For several weeks, following their sudden departure, a voice could be heard coming from somewhere in the sand, "Timmy, my dear boy, this is Eva. We have the list ready now...can you hear me Timmy...Timmy...Timmy... it's Eva ...... we had a sked .... I have a list ...... Timmy...Timmy......" This is a fictional account of a day in the life of Timmy the Twerp. All characters in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. DON, VE3HGN
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