Part SEVENTEEN – continued from last week’s episode –

There was one chance! Rusty reached with left hand to his pant leg and felt the knife against his calf held by a Velcro sheath. If you recall the lunge into the helicopter “boob incident”, he was not masterful with maneuverability when it came to reaching for objects in clutch situations.

Then there was the high school collapse on the sideline, a football nightmare that forever lingered in his mind. “Flathers! You’re in!” Followed by BOOM… Paralyzed by fear as if someone had cut him at the knees he crumbled to the turf.

That moment in life secured his position as a bottom feeder in the dating pool. When spring prom season rolled around there was no corsage to pin on some would-be-darling of the dance.

The best he could muster was a “boy night out.” Singular, as he avoided the event entirely, and chose to spend the evening wetting a line on the banks of the Duckabush River with a bottled six pack of Hornyhead Ale ponies.

Unfortunately for Rusty there had been heavy rain earlier that day. As he ambled down the bank with pole in one hand and six pack in the opposite, he found himself sliding on his ass toward the river edge. It was only when he spun a 180-turn and flopped to his belly that he looked like a beaver having a wee old time on a mud-caked water slide.

At this point he lost the six pack and watched them collide against the Rock of Gibraltar exploding into foam. The night eventually grew darker… He sat soberly and somberly (with cotton mouth) soaking bait in mud-churned-water that produced the number of bites you could count on less than one hand.

The snowmobile began to decelerate, and Sally felt the ride begin to ascend. Leaning forward to stay balanced on the sled there was a final rev of the engine before flattening out with an abrupt stop. As the engine went silent there was a LOUD backfire BANG from the machine and Sally screamed, fearing a gunshot. The voice standing above her burst with a belly laugh.

Unlocking the handcuffs… Wrestling her arms behind her… She was hauled off the snowmobile with legs dragging behind in deep snow.

With the knife secure in his left-hand Rusty thought, “What would my father do next?”

-To be continued –