Mysterious Map with Earl and Clyde — Week 2
100% Ai Generated Photo
For those that like to listen
It was Monday morning when Earl found the map.
He wasn't looking for a map.
He was looking for a pair of work gloves that he was certain had been under the seat of his old red pickup since sometime last spring.
Instead, his hand found something folded up and covered in dust.
Earl pulled it out.
“What in the world?”
Clyde was sitting in the passenger seat drinking coffee.
“What'd you find?”
Earl unfolded the paper across the dashboard.
It was an old hand-drawn map.
There were several crooked lines, a creek, a barn, three oak trees and a large red X.
At the bottom were four words:
WHERE THE THREE OAKS MEET.
Clyde leaned over.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Earl stared at the map.
“Treasure.”
“You don't know that.”
“Clyde, there's an X on it.”
“So?”
“Maps with X's have treasure.”
Clyde took another sip of coffee.
“Pretty sure maps with X's also have directions to things.”
Earl folded the map.
“We're going treasure hunting.”
Clyde sighed.
It was Monday.
He should have known better than to get in the truck.
The Search Begins
Earl spent the next hour driving around Pendleton County looking for three oak trees.
They found two.
They found one enormous oak.
They found a tree Earl insisted was an oak until Clyde pointed out the apples growing on it.
Finally, they came upon three large oak trees standing together near a creek.
Earl slammed on the brakes.
“There!”
Clyde looked out the window.
“Those might be the three oaks.”
“They are definitely the three oaks.”
“How do you know?”
Earl held up the map.
“Because they're three oaks.”
Clyde decided there was probably no point arguing.
They climbed out of the truck.
Earl walked around the trees, studying the ground.
“It's got to be here.”
“What?”
“The treasure.”
“What kind of treasure are we talking about?”
Earl thought about it.
“Gold.”
“Why gold?”
“Because that's what people bury.”
“People also bury garbage.”
Earl stopped.
“Don't ruin this for me.”
The Shovel
Earl returned to the truck and pulled out a shovel.
Clyde stared at him.
“You just happened to have a shovel?”
“You never know.”
“You've had that shovel in your truck for six years.”
“And look how useful it is now.”
Earl began digging.
Five minutes passed.
Nothing.
Ten minutes.
Nothing.
Fifteen minutes.
Earl hit something.
CLUNK.
Both men froze.
Earl slowly looked at Clyde.
Clyde looked at Earl.
“I told you,” Earl whispered.
They dug faster.
Soon they uncovered an old metal coffee can.
Earl carefully pulled it from the ground.
He wiped the dirt off the lid.
“Well?”
Clyde leaned closer.
Earl opened it.
Inside was a collection of old items:
A pocketknife.
A marble.
A rusty fishing lure.
Three old coins.
A faded photograph.
And a handwritten note.
Earl picked up the coins.
“I knew it.”
Clyde looked at them.
“They're pennies.”
Earl looked again.
“Well…”
He put them back.
“Old pennies.”
The Note
Clyde unfolded the handwritten note.
It said:
“To whoever finds this:
If you're reading this, you probably thought you found buried treasure.
Sorry.
But maybe you did.
These things belonged to me when I was a kid. The coins bought candy. The fishing lure caught more tree branches than fish. The pocketknife got me in trouble twice.
None of it is worth much money.
But every one of these things reminds me of a good memory.
So maybe that makes them treasure after all.
Enjoy the hunt.”
Clyde finished reading.
Earl was quiet.
For almost five seconds.
Then he pointed at the pennies.
“So technically, we found treasure.”
Clyde laughed.
“I suppose.”
“How much do you think they're worth?”
“About two cents.”
Earl shook his head.
“You're terrible at treasure hunting.”
The Photograph
Clyde picked up the faded photograph.
It showed a group of kids standing beside an old barn.
On the back was written:
Summer Picnic — 1974
Earl recognized the location.
“I know where that is.”
“Where?”
“Old Miller's farm.”
Clyde looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Everybody knows that barn.”
Earl folded the photograph and put it back in the coffee can.
“Well, I guess we solved the mystery.”
Clyde shook his head.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“We still don't know who buried it.”
Earl thought about that.
“You're right.”
They looked at each other.
Then Earl smiled.
“Let's find out.”
The Investigation
For the rest of the week, Earl and Clyde asked around.
They asked at the diner.
They asked at the hardware store.
They asked a couple of farmers.
They even asked the fellow who always seemed to be sitting outside the gas station.
Nobody knew.
Finally, on Friday afternoon, Earl walked into the local feed store carrying the photograph.
An older gentleman named Ray looked at it.
He smiled.
“Oh, I remember that.”
Earl's eyes lit up.
“You do?”
“Sure. That's a picture from my dad's old farm.”
“Do you know who buried the coffee can?”
Ray laughed.
“I might.”
Earl leaned forward.
“Who?”
Ray pointed at Clyde.
“His uncle.”
Clyde's eyes got wide.
“My uncle?”
“Yep.”
Clyde thought for a moment.
Then he started laughing.
“I remember him doing stuff like that.”
Earl looked confused.
“What kind of stuff?”
“He used to bury little boxes everywhere.”
“Why?”
Clyde shrugged.
“He thought someday somebody would find them.”
Earl smiled.
“So there could be more treasure?”
Ray laughed.
“Probably.”
Earl immediately grabbed Clyde by the arm.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To find more treasure.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have plans this weekend.”
“What plans?”
“I'm going fishing.”
Earl stopped.
“That's treasure hunting.”
Clyde thought about it.
“Fair enough.”
Saturday at the Creek
Saturday morning found Earl and Clyde sitting beside a creek with fishing poles.
The old coffee can sat between them.
They hadn't found another buried treasure.
They hadn't found gold.
They hadn't even found another old penny.
But they had caught three fish.
Well…
Clyde had caught three fish.
Earl had caught a tree branch, an old boot and something that Clyde believed may have once been a bicycle tire.
Earl finally reeled in his line.
“You know, Clyde…”
“What?”
“I think we learned something this week.”
Clyde looked at him suspiciously.
“What?”
“Treasure isn't always money.”
Clyde smiled.
“That's actually pretty good, Earl.”
Earl nodded.
“Yep.”
He paused.
“Although money would have been better.”
Clyde laughed.
They packed up their fishing gear and headed back toward the truck.
Earl stopped suddenly.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Earl pointed toward the ground.
There was something sticking out of the dirt.
Clyde looked at it.
“Don't.”
Earl grinned.
“Could be treasure.”
“Earl…”
Earl grabbed the shovel.
Clyde shook his head.
“You're going to dig it up, aren't you?”
“Absolutely.”
Earl started digging.
A few minutes later, he pulled out an old metal object.
He held it up proudly.
Clyde stared at it.
“What is it?”
Earl turned it over.
It was an old rusted muffler.
Clyde burst out laughing.
Earl looked at it.
Then at Clyde.
Then back at the muffler.
“Well…”
He tossed it aside.
“Not all treasure is treasure.”
Clyde nodded.
“Now you're getting it.”
They climbed into the red pickup and headed home.
Neither noticed the raccoon sitting beside the creek watching them.
The raccoon crawled over to the spot where Earl had been digging.
It sniffed the dirt.
Then it dug.
And a few seconds later, it pulled out a shiny object.
The raccoon looked at it.
Then ran off with it.
Earl never knew what it was.
And Clyde wasn't about to go looking.
At least not until Monday.
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