The place still smelled of vomit, even after all the pine-sol & mopping. But that was life on the river. All in all it had been a slow day at the Duc On Inn. True, due to its location cantileverd over the tailout below Barks hole it attracted its share or river rats & lowlifes. Today had been much like the the last week or so, typical for late Novermber. Bob Ball had been by sipping a sparkling mineral water, while his clients slammed shots of wild turkey chased by red bulls, gearing up for the drive back to White Center.

True Pat Graham had been tossed out an hour ago for pukeing all over the pool table, but then he had been thru a tough day. Knocking back 12 draft Molson Ice's in 15 minuites will do that to a guy, he was sleeping it off in the bed of his pickup.

He had lost an oar "stam style" on the upper Calawah, then having his dryrotted POS back-up snap after a few strokes. He & his cracker frontseaters were in for a tough ride, while Pat rowed his DB canoe style, pissed as all get out. Seeing the guys up front were deaf it took an hour or so of pat screaming at them to know something was up, nailing every rock in the river & spinning like a cheap ride at the fair I guess they just thought it was the way Ol' Patrick did it, and it was kind of fun


Part #2 later......

C/22