(no subject)
Sax Taxson was a polymath and an unabashed autodidact. He loved reading chapters from books in bookstores - calling in to local radio talk shows, and editing wikipedia entries.
Sax also subscribed to Popular Mechanics, and had done some research surrounding fluid dynamics. Archimedean screws. Sump pumps. Bilge pumps. Impellors. Siphons. He knew a little about the Venturi Effect - about how fluid pressure increases as the aperture through which the fluid travels decreases.
Big Ernie Shores had finished the barrel of the cannon, which, according to the blueprints transcribed from Henge’s napkin design, included a gradual taper attenuating at the nozzle.
Screeching into the parking lot of Cheviot Machine and Screw, Sax grabbed the brown paper bag with the magnum penis pump off the front seat of Chomsky, and ambled down the cement stairwell of the machine shop. His gaunt, alkaline body loping down the stairs like an Ichabod. His hawk like face darting - his deep set eyes furrowed in pierced determination.
Sax pulled the pump out of the paper bag. He threw the bag in the large Rubbermaid trash can and held the pump above his head in his right hand like the Statue of Liberty. A translucent plastic cylinder about three inches in diameter, and nearly a foot and a half long, the top fountaining over into a slender rubber hose, and at the end of the hose, a pressure bulb.
“So that’s it?” Said Big Ernie.
“That’s it? What do you mean 'that’s it,'” Said Sax. “This is the Black Rhino, the top of the line.” Sax rattled off some apocryphal numbers, in cubic centimeters, as to the fluid displacement capacity, and potential water hammer effect.
Big Ernie shook his head, and went back to finishing up some prototypes of a surgical instrument on the Bridgeport machine.
William Comparetto
© 2007