Malcolm James Thornwhistle (of the Downhampton Thornwhistles) was a world-renowned adventurer and cookbook author specializing in deep-fried sushi.

Best known for his early discovery of a lost string of deeply submerged islands in the upper St. Joseph River, Malcolm was exploring upstream from Mottville in an attempt to make new discoveries and contemplate the reason for tofu. To date, Malcolm has discovered little of historical value, sales of his cookbook are slim to none, and he has zero understanding of anything related to tofu.

The 75-horsepower Evinrude powering Malcolm’s flat-bottom Jon boat churned against the current as he made his way upstream. The morning sun shone brightly in his squinting eyes and early birds, chirping crickets, along with belching frogs joined in an impromptu and cacophonous chorus. Malcolm wanted to join in, but couldn’t remember the words.

A few yards upstream, he encountered a man sitting by a fire along the riverbank. The aroma of coffee brewing and freshly caught trout sizzling in a cast iron skillet grabbed Malcolm by his olfactory handle, drawing him steadily towards the shore.

“Ahoy,” Malcolm called out. “Looks like a fine mess of fish yer fryin’ up.”

“Yes. It does look that way,” replied the riverside chef. “I’d ask you to join me, but I really don’t want to.”

Choosing to pay attention to the, “I’d ask you to join me,” part of the man’s response, and completely ignoring the remainder, Malcolm nosed his vessel closer to shore. “The name’s Malcolm Thornwhistle,” Malcolm offered as an introduction. “I’m an explorer, and I’m searching this stretch of the river for new discoveries.”

“I’m Ragnar Thorbjorn, son of my father and grandson of his father,” replied the man. “I’m a professional philosopher, and I’m in search of a quiet breakfast. Have you seen any around these parts?”

“What does a professional philosopher do for a living?” queried Malcolm, again choosing to ignore the less than subtle rebuffs of Ragnar the River Chef.

“Very little,” answered Ragnar, in a nonchalant tone. “Most of our work involves posters in college dorm rooms. “It is good work if you can get it. Kinda like cell phones — new ones come out every couple of years and usually aren’t much better than the previous batch.

“Have I seen any of your work?” asked Malcolm, curious to know more about the business of dorm room posters — and wanting to stay close to the fish fry.

“This year’s model looks like it might be a best seller,” Ragnar responded with a self-satisfying grin. “It says, ‘There Are Four Ways of Doing Everything — Two Are Right and One is Wrong.’ This year’s freshmen are just eating it up.”

Malcolm wanted to ask, “What the heck is that supposed to mean?” but got distracted by the combination of Ragnar’s words, “Eating it up,” and a waft of trout-infused smoke drifting past his nose.

“I think my best work came out in 2016,” continued Ragnar, as he flipped the fish in his skillet and moved it to a cooler spot on the coals. “It read, ‘One Man Will Swing a Stick and Hit You. Another Will Hold Out a Stick and Let You Run Into It. Both Accomplish the Same Thing.’”

Searching for a polite response, the best Malcolm could offer was, “Interesting line of work.” No one has ever accused Malcolm of being overly verbose.

Noticing that Malcolm had pulled his Jon boat to within a few feet of his shoreline personal space, Ragnar decided to address the uninvited explorer in a more direct manner. “Want some fish?” he asked as he pulled the cast iron skillet off the fire.

“That would be great,” responded Malcolm as he slid the sleeve of his shirt across the drool on his chin.

“Did ya’ bring any?”