"Just a feller," I says.

"But he looked like he was enjoyin it."

"Probly. He an his friends don't like me oysterin down here."

"He had a oyster knife in his hand. You spose he was the one who did it?"

"Maybe. Problem is, I got no proof."

"So why don't you go find out? Ask him?"

"I think it's best to let them people alone," I says. 'It ain't nothin but trouble to fool with them."

"You ain't scared, are you?"

"Not exactly. I mean, they all live here. They're mad cause I'm tongin their oysters."

"Their oysters! Oysters in the water are anybody's oysters."

"Yeah, I know that, but they don't see it that way."

"So you gonna let them push us around?"

"I'm gonna go on about my bidness an let them be," I says.

Little Forrest, he turn around an went on back to the truck an begun fixin the flat tire. I could see him from down the street, talkin an cussin to hissef. I knowed how he felt, but I just can't afford no screw-ups now. I have got a family to look after.

Then one day it happened. They shut us down.

Me an little Forrest got down to the dock one mornin an they is big ole signs posted everwhere, say Due to Pollution in the Water There Will Be No More Oysterin Under Penalty of Law Till Further Notice.

Well, this come as bad news, indeed. After all, we is hangin on by just about a thread, but they wadn't nothin to do cept go on back home. It was a pretty dreary night all around, an in the mornin I am feelin glum, settin at the breakfast table, drinkin coffee, when little Forrest come in the kitchen.

"I got a idea," he says.

"Yeah, what?"

"I think I have figgered out a way to start harvestin oysters again."

"How is that?" I ast.

"Well, I been studyin up on it," little Forrest says. "Spose we can convince the state fish n wildlife people that any oysters we harvest is gonna be free of any pollution?"

"How is we gonna do that?"

"Move em," he says.

"Move what?"

"The oysters. See, a oyster thrives in pollution, but you can't eat em, cause it'll make you sick. We all know that. But accordin to the research I done, a oyster purges itself completely every twenty-four hours."

"So what?"

"Well, spose we tong up the oysters in the polluted water, an then move them out to the Gulf, where it is clear an clean an salty? All we have to do is sink the oysters in a few feet of water for a day or so, an they'll be clean an pure an fresh as a whistle."

"We can do that?" I ast.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure. I mean, all we need to do is get another ole skiff an tow it out to one of them islands where the water is clear, put the oysters we tonged up here in it, an sink it for a day. Those oysters will have purged themselfs entirely of anything bad and I bet they'll taste better, too, cause they'll pick up the salt from the Gulf water."

"Hey," I says, "that sounds like it really might work."

"Yeah. I mean, it'll be a little more to do, account of we gotta move the oysters and then pick em up again, but it's better than nothin."

So that's what we did.

Somehow we managed to convince the state Fish an Wildlife Service that our oysters wasn't gonna be no threat to nobody. We started out movin em from the bay beds to the Gulf in the skiff, but pretty soon we was so busy we had to buy us a barge. An also, the price we got for our oysters went sky high, account of we was the only big-time game in town.

As the weeks an months went by, we added to our operation by gettin more an more barges, an we had to hire more people to help us in the oysterin bidness.

Little Forrest also done come up with another idea, an in fact, it was what made us rich.

"Listen," he says one day after we brought in a big load of oysters, "I been thinkin—Where is the best place to grow a oyster?"

"In shit," I answered.

"Exactly," he says. "An where is there the most shit in the whole bay?"

"Probly by the sewage treatment plant," I says.

"Exactly! So here's what we do, we go out there an plant oysters! Thousands of em—millions. We can use planks or somethin to mature the spat—which is the baby oysters. Set the whole thing up on a regular basis with boats tongin up the new oysters an movin em to our barges out in the Gulf. I've even got a idea for a submersible barge, so's we just take it out an sink it with the polluted oysters, then in a day or so pump it out, an presto, we got a bargeload of pure, fresh oysters!"

So that is also what we done.

In a year, we are harvestin more oysters by the sewage treatment plant than the law ought to allow an we have expanded our operation to include a oyster processin plant an shippin section, an we have also got a marketin division, too.

GUMP & COMPANY is what I have named ourselfs, an we is sellin premium-grade oysters all over the United States of America!

All this has cheered up Jenny's mama so, that she become our receptionist. She says she feels "totally rejuvenated" an don't want to go to the po house no more. She has even bought hersef a new Cadillac convertible that she drives around with the top down, wearin a sleeveless sundress an a bonnet.

As the months go by, we have got so big I went on a hirin spree. I located Mr. Ivan Bozosky an Mike Mulligan, an put them in charge of the accountin department, figgerin they have learned a lesson durin their terms in jail.

Ole Slim, from my encyclopedia days, I put in charge of sales, an he has increased our volume by five-hundrit percent! Curtis an Snake, whose football playin days with the Giants an Saints is over, I put in charge of "security."

Now, ole Alfred Hopewell, from the new CokeCola bidness, I put him in the position of research an development. His wife, Mrs. Hopewell, whose circumstances have been considerably reduced since the riot in Atlanta, she is now our government liaison director, an let me say this: We ain't had no problems with the state Fish an Wildlife Service since she got on the job. Ever time she have a meetin with them fellers in her office, I hear her Chinese gong sound, an know that all is well.

Mister McGivver, from the pig-farmin enterprise, was havin trouble findin a job after the Exxon-Valdez disaster, an so I put him in charge of our oyster barge operations. He has quit drinkin, an none of our barges have had so much as a bump on the bottom, now that he is in control. However, he still enjoys talkin like a pirate, which I figger might help keep his crews in line.

Ole Colonel North is also havin a bit of trouble of his own, an I give him a job runnin our covert operations department, which is basically makin sure that our oysters come up fresh an pure, an have no taint or stain to em.

"One day, Gump," he says, "I am gonna run for the U.S. Senate, an show them bastids what common decency is all about."

"Right, Colonel," I tell him, "but meantime, just keep our oysters' noses clean down here—You know what I mean?"

I was gonna try to hire the Ayatolja to run our moral an spiritual relations department, but he gone an died, an so I got the Reverend Jim Bakker for the job. He is doin pretty good, blessin all our boats an barges an everthin, but his wife, Tammy Faye, don't get along so good with Mrs. Hopewell an her Chinese gong, an so I am gonna have to do somethin about that.

As crew for our harvestin an processin operations, I have got the entire staff from Reverend Bakker's Holy Land: Moses from the "Burnin Bush," Jonah from the whale scene, Jacob an his "Coat of Many Colors," an all of Pharaoh's Army are now our oyster shuckers. Also, I have got the feller that played Jesus in the "Ascendin into Heaven" act an Daniel with his lion from the "Lion's Den" attraction, thowin out oyster spat in our maritime farmin bidness. The lion, who has gotten kinda ole an moldy, he just sets outside the door to my office, an lets out a roar sometimes. He has lost most of his teeth by now, but has developed a taste for oysters on the half shell, which I spose is all to the good.