Last night we ended up at the North Star, which is closed on Mondays and run by a fellow whogoes by the name “The Living Legend”. He and Richad go back some, and they talk into the night in the empty bar.
We slept in a town called Gregory. In the morning Richard seems strangely hyper, and as he drives through town he suddenly pulls over and has a mock altercation with 12 foot gorilla (A statue of the town’s sports teams mascot). It seems we are beginning to see the ‘high’ side of a growing manic state.
We run in to a cowboy and his wife on an old pony trap. Richard lifts his shirt and asks the wife to whip him. It’s a good opener, and soon he’s riding alongside them. The cowboy turns out to be an old hand from California and treats us to an hour of fire and brimstone while his pretty (and much younger) wife looks on.
Richard can’t resist a theological showdown with the right wing Baptist and an argument ensues. After getting kicked off the trap, Richard makes a a hasty amends (‘peace be with you brother!’) before the cowboy rides off.
Richard’s high is escalating and when we hit the cafe for lunch. He walks in with a scarf over his face holding a shotgun and demands to see the manager. The old ladies inside barely bat an eyelid.
Over lunch he gets a call. He loves to banter with salespeople, but as we listen (he’s sitting on another table of course) he starts to give out personal details. Card numbers. Security numbers. We try to stop him but he waves us away. Eventually he hands the phone to me, but the damage is done. I speak to the guy on the other end and question him but i can almost hear the money leaving richard’s account the longer we stay on the line. He calls his bank five minutes later, and a transaction for $995 has already gone through. Oh dear.
Richard comes back to earth with a bump and sets to work on the phone. Once again he has created a whole world of drama which needs to be unravelled.
On the way to Mission we couldn’t drive past this picture, so we lost Richard.
Richard’s high is escalating and when we hit the cafe for lunch. He walks in with a scarf over his face holding a shotgun and demands to see the manager. The old ladies inside barely bat an eyelid.
Over lunch he gets a call. He loves to banter with salespeople, but as we listen (he’s sitting on another table of course) he starts to give out personal details. Card numbers. Security numbers. We try to stop him but he waves us away. Eventually he hands the phone to me, but the damage is done. I speak to the guy on the other end and question him but i can almost hear the money leaving richard’s account the longer we stay on the line. He calls his bank five minutes later, and a transaction for $995 has already gone through. Oh dear.
Richard comes back to earth with a bump and sets to work on the phone. Once again he has created a whole world of drama which needs to be unravelled.
On the way to Mission we couldn’t drive past this picture, so we lost Richard.
When we arrive he’s at the Native American University in the office of an Indian named Hollow Horn who has a photo of himself meeting the Pope on the wall. We’re trying to track down his old buddy Sylvan White Hat.
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