Mon Reve

Another night, another dream, this time of Cassie-chan. My love form way back in ’92-’93. The “twirly-girl” with the fabulous golden ringlets that still to this day drive crazy.

In the dream she contacts me and wants to meet up at some bar she used to frequent.

Vki and I wait at the bar for a while and order food. After a while it looks like Cassie-chan isn’t going to show then Vki goes to the ladies and Cassie shows up. She looks mostly the same, a little thicker perhaps (aren’t we all), and the hair is a little darker for sure but those thick ringlets are just as soft, just as luxurious as I remember. I run my hand through the hair in greeting and its silkiness almost kills me.

I’m different of course; I look like Jaeger of 1993 in that weird residual self-image that dreams are famous for.

Cassie-chan and I get along wonderfully; she tells me she is single (it’s a dream after all). She mistakes some random fat chick for Vki and starts talking to her, then is so embarrassed that she flees to the kitchen and hides under a table. I get her out with my smooth talkin’ (I’m so fucking suave) and give her a hard, deep kiss to boot.

Back at the table Vki is back from the loo and a blond surfer choad is all over her. He leaves when I show up then strange things start to happen.

The back of the Pub collapses and out back is a post Ice age world where Cassie-chan could be queen if only she would just take charge and from here the fog rolls in and I’m ripped into wakefulness by the alarm

Strange thing about this dream is its reality. It felt so real, even down to the pre-history ending with its spongy ground, cave men and hairy mastodons.

Waking from a dream when you know it’s a dream one has a happy feeling of satisfaction, it’s almost a pleasure to get up after such dreams. This morning I woke in a funk and tried twice with two swipes of the Snooze button to regain some fragment of the dream with it’s almost hyper-reality. Jerked back awake twice more I realized I’ll never get the realistic unreality of the Cassie-chan reve back so I dragged myself from the bed and stumbled to the can for my morning ablutions.


Terminus Finale

Your eyes snap open.

It’s three minutes to boarding and Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” comes on the radio. You reach out with a shaky hand to switch it off, but don’t. Soon you’ll be safe, far away from here, up the coast and away. The ferry docked ten minutes ago and all the vehicles and human traffic have disembarked and you wonder what they’re waiting for. Don’t they know you’re in a hurry?

It’s then that you notice the mars lights flashing in the rear view mirror. How did they find you? No matter. The cops are climbing out of the vehicles now.

When you call my name it’s like a little prayer

You glance around, only to see that the cops are all over the place! They’re weaving around and setting up behind the empty cars that are lined up behind and beside you at the final stop. It’s over.

In the midnight hour, I can feel your power

Only one thing to do, and you know what it is. You pull the rucksack from the passenger seat beside you and dig through it. Your are at the same time unsure, yet certain about what you will find inside.

Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there

Your hand finds the cold grip of the Baretta 92F and a calm comes over you. This it it! An amped voice reaches your ears, commanding you to put up your hands and slowly exit the vehicle. You pop open the door. An alarm pings and tells you the door is ajar. You smile and think about that old cornball joke your friend Bill always used to tell: “When is a door not a door? When it’s ajar!”

With one foot on the damp tarmac, you hear the clicking and snapping, and cocking of various police issue projectile weapons.

Just like a dream, you are not what you seem

You stand, 9mm partially hidden by the RX-7’s doorframe. The amped voice again explodes in your ears telling you to put your hands on your head and lie face down on the ground. You turn and face the gun barrels and uniforms that almost surround you. It’s time.

Just like a prayer, no choice your voice can take me there

You raise your right arm. There is more shouting. Weapon! Put the weapon down and get down on the ground sir!

You aren’t having any of this! You bring the Baretta to bear on the first weapon wielding uniform that comes into focus.

Just like a prayer, I’ll take you there

The first bullet hits you in the left shoulder and passes through cleanly. It’s strange, you always believed that it would hurt to be shot, but the wound in your shoulder is nothing if not just strangely warm.

It’s like a dream to me

You don’t get the opportunity to fire off even one shot as your body is wracked with round after round of police issue ammunition. As you begin to slump to the ground, feeling altogether light-headed, the last thing you see is your lower intestines peaking from a ragged hole in your shirt before two 9mm slugs tear through you cerebral cortex.

In the bullet ridden RX-7, the song on the radio slowly fades out.

It’s like a dream to me. . .



Avast me hearties and celebrate with a mug of grog!

Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day!




New Orleans Destroyed

Tropical storm Katrina has blown through and 80% of New Orleans is now under water. Thousands have lost everything, including their lives.

I don't really know what to say about this except that this category five tropical storm (only the third time in recorded history such a storm has made landfall in North America) has once again brought out the best, and the worst in humanity.

While Red Cross volunteers all over North America have mobilized and are risking life and limb to help people who have lost everything, looters are running free through sections of the city that are not completely submerged.

Oh, yeah, and the Big Oil Companies have seen this tragedy as an opportunity to screw consumers again and have already instantaneously raised gasoline prices at the pump an additional 20cents a litre not only in the U.S , but Canada as well.

I just have to shake my head.

Those who know me know that I am no socialist pinko, but when a category five storm leads to a category five fleesing of the consumer, gets me thinking that maybe we need the government to step in and say "no more." But of course this will never happen, because the more we pay for gas, the more Emperor Martin and his cronies make.

Oh, well.




What a lovely day!

Cool, misty, much like any day inthe Highlands.

It fills me with a strange joy.

Or maybe it's because I'm finished with my year in NorHell on thursday!


I'm Working With IDIOTS!

It’s funny, I went ten freaking years at Q-Tron/Wabtec getting paid by direct deposit™ and in all that time not even once did they miss, of fuck up a deposit in any way shape or form.

Now I’m with MANPOWER for less than a year and they manage to fuck up depositing my cheque not once, not twice, not three, but four times now!

Such incompetence is quite staggering…


Greedo Shuffle

With appologies to Boz Scaggs

Greedo Shuffle
Lyrics By Jaeger

Greedo missed his ship that day
From Jabba’s house
But that wasn’t all he missed
And he ain't comin' back

A Tatooine bar
In a bad lit booth
He made his move
But Solo got the jump, and left a smokin’ hole
It was yesterday
Greedo needed cash so
He asked the Hutt

He said one more bounty to get my
Sorry green ass of the planet
And I hate Han Solo

Greedo oh oh oh ohoho
At a cantina
Waitin’ for Solo
Greedo’s waitin’ for Han Solo

Greedo be drinkin'
Havin' great big fun
Until he spots Solo
He is talkin’ with some folks
So he waits till he’s alone
Solo’s makin' a beeline
Headin' for the Docking Bay

Sayin' Jabba wants all his money
This time he’ll take your starship
Why’s your hand under the table?

Greedo oh oh oh ohoho
At a cantina
Waitin’ for Solo
Greedo’s waitin’ for Han Solo

One smokin’ hole in his chest
Greedo fell down face first
Dead before he hit the floor

Greedo oh oh oh ohoho
He's a grease spot
Thanks to Solo
For Greedo that’s all she wrote


where are the updates?

Sorry about the lack of updates.

Too busy to write lately.

Stay tuned, it’s a long weekend out here so I should have new stuff up.

Emperor Jaeger


Cowards Bomb London Underground

Once again Osama bin-Laden is allowed to murder innocents from the safety of his hiding hole. Am I the only one out there that thinks he should have been found and executed back in 2001?

Probably, because George W. Bush doen’t seem to care about finding the murderers behind 9/11, and now 07/07. And since the filthy Liberals in our federal government have never cared about finding and bringing the terrorists to justice, why should anyone else in Canada. Besides of course, those who think that mass-murder in the name of religion is wrong. Now is not the time for mealy-mouthed political correctness, now is the time for action from the Paul Martin Liberals. Though I wouldn’t hold my breath.

London Mayor Ken Livingstone said the blasts were "mass-murder" carried out by terrorists bent on "indiscriminate ... slaughter."

Livingstone, in Singapore where he supported London's successful bid to host the 2012 Olympics, said: "I want to say one thing: This was not a terrorist attack against the mighty or the powerful, it is not aimed at presidents or prime ministers, it was aimed at ordinary working-class Londoners."

Oh well, maybe when a bomb finally goes off in the middle of downtown Toronto, the Liberals will stand up and do something about the evil that is the al-Qaeda terrorist network. But then again, probably not.


Terminus Part 2

You know you’re dreaming because you can see yourself. The dream revolves around work obviously, as you see you’re wearing that hideous brown and white and gold uniform of the Cosmodemonic Security Company.

The dark, grey labrynthian concrete walls, and floors, and celings of the parkade surround you. You hear nothing, so it must be one of those silent dreams of the kind everyone used to have before the invention of talkies.

Behind the dream version of you, out of the gloom emerges your supervisor, the "Lying Dutchman" as everyone calls him.

Dream You says something to him and beacons the theiving Dutchman to follow. He does, down to the bottomost level of the parkade to an empty corner. A dark empty corner.

The fat, blubbery, Hutt of a man turns angrilly towards Dream You. Suddenly you and Dream You have become one and you can feel the Dutchman’s angry spittle pelting you in the facemeats. You feel almost giddy inside as you raise your right arm and point something black and heavy at your boss’ face.

The scene wipes left to right like in a George Lucas flick and you find yourself in the change room, balls deep in a girl whose face you can’t see. The number on the locker in front of you is 13. The colour is green and the painted surface of the metal fogs slightly at your every exhalation.

The sound of the dream has been switched on now and you can hear your breathing as well as the girl’s every little moan, and squeal. Her leg wraps higher around you and you feel like you are about to explode. You can feel the tingle gathering in the base of your spine, building, building…

It’s morning.

A voice on the radio is talking about a gas explosion in Calgary that killed two and injured five. The news goes on to report another "gangland style" murder in the downtown. You turn off the radio. It’s 08:10am.

You sit up too fast and get a head rush, followed by a feeling of intense nausea. Making it to the bathroom toilet just in time you vomit a long stream of clearish liquid with what looks like blood clots in it. You stare at the vile mixture in the bowl before flushing it away to infinity. You rinse the sick from your mouth and grab the ruck sack.

You have to go. Now. Your adventure will wait for no one.


Things I Just Don't Understand

Part 1: Rap and Rappers

I had a conversation with a bud a while ago and the subject of music came up. My friend was just fucking jacked about a new record (that's "CD" for all you younglings) by a rapper by the name of 50 cent, or "fiddycent" as my bud pronounced it.

He went on and on about how the music was so cool, and fresh and nothing like the rap "you've heard before" so I checked out some videos on Much when they had a "special" all about "fiddycent" one Sunday afternoon.

I guess I just don't get it. The "music" was the same "bitches, ho's and bling" bullshit that seems to be popular with every rapper out there today.

I understand that most of the rappers were at one point in their lives poor, but are now stinking filthy rich, but why do they have to shove it in everyone's face?

Is that what it means when they say "we be keepin it real yo?"

Does keeping it real mean you drive a solid gold Hummer Limo with Diamond encrusted rims?

Does keeping it real mean paying dozens of ultra-hot hootchies to dance mostly naked beside your marble Olympic-sized swimming pool while you sit back smoking a Cuban?

Does keeping it real mean wearing so much solid gold diamond studded jewery that you can't even hold your head up?

Does keeping it real mean going on MTV's Cribs and showing off the solid gold refrigerator filled with Cristal in a kitchen that's bigger than most people's whole apartment?

I guess it does.

And that is something I just don't understand


Flood 2005

We had some rain on and off here in and around the Calgary area for the last two weeks so naturally there were floods.

Southern Alberta is really little more than a desert so any rain that lasts longer than a week causes havoc with the river system, and since there is no convenient ocean for all the water to drain into, it has to go somewhere.

A flood like this happens once every hundred years or so and causes the devastation you can see on the TV and in newspapers.

1500 people in the downtown communities of Mission, Elbow Park, Erlton, Rideau, Roxboro, Stanley Park, Victoria Park, and Riverdale were forced to evacuate their homes late last night as the city declared a State of Emergency.

Portions of Elbow Drive, MacLeod Trail were under water, as well as the Mission Bridge and the 25th Ave bridge. In Okotoks and High River, huge sections of the towns are under water. The dollar value of the damage to nearby homes and businesses has not been calculated yet but is surely to be in the high millions.

To all of those who volunteered their time and energy towards helping the victims of this natural disaster; THANK YOU.

I also have a little piece of advice for all you fucking yahoos from different parts of town that are getting in your cars and driving downtown just to take stupid pictures of the devastation: STAY THE FUCK HOME!

You vultures are what is wrong with human kind. If you are not here to volunteer to help those who need it, then get the fuck home and stay there!

If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem so stop being part of the fucking problem you insensitive, scumbag, tourist, fuckholes.

Have a Nice Day.


Good News Everyone!

Finally some good news from the hated Fox Network and Fox DVD!

Matt Groening and David X. Cohen were approched by Fox execs to do a series of direct to DVD FUTURAMA movies!

Apparently Fox was so impressed with DVD sales of the series that they decided (rightly) that FUTURAMA, the greatest TV series ever made, deserved to come back in some form or another.

Although not what some had hoped, a return to TV a-la Family Guy, it’s still better than nothing.

More news about this and all things FUTURAMA can be found at:




Fashion Hideousness

Since when did 'Gangster Chic' become synonymous with 'Laundry Day?' You've seen these jokers walking down the street in their grubby track suits, runners and scoop-necked wife-beaters, wearing gaudy gold, and diamond Jesus hangers.

Man, these guys look more like they should be in line for double soup Tuesday at the homeless shelter than the 'Made Men' that they are supposed to be.

To all of you badly dressed gangsters out there, I have two words: SILK SUIT!

If I see any more of you Goodfellas walking around in jogging clothing, I'm gonna start to believe that crime doesn't actually pay. And that would be a shame.

So remember, only one person in the universe looks good in Velour, and that's Zap Brannigan!

"It's like there's a party in my mouth, and everyone's throwing up!"
-Philip J. Fry


The horror, the horror...

A week and a day having passed, I find I can finally speak (or write as the case may be) of the horrors of last week's Lilac Festival on 4th street. I have lived in Calgary's Mission/Cliff Bungalow community since 1998 and have been participating in the Lilac Fest in one way or another ever since then, whether it be as an observer, or a participant.

I was forced to move out of the community a year ago when filthy condo developers booted me out of my old flat, and since moving I have witnessed two festivals as a walk in observer. This year is my last, and here's why: TOO MANY FILTHY, HIDEOUS HUMANS.

This year between 12th ave and Elbow Drive where the festival runs, there were more than ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE crammed in not including vendors, more than the last two years combined. And I'm not just saying between noon and one, the regular peak hours for the fest, but from the time Vki and I got there around eleven, to the time we were able to fucking escape the hideous hordes around three in the afternoon. Constantly.

It took an hour to walk five blocks, and there were of course all the jokers with bicycles, and prams and GIANT HORSE-DOGS always in front of me, and always stopping to chat or watch some acrobat, or listen to some band, so that the fifty thousand people behind them have to stop and wait for them to get their asses in gear again and go because it is literally SHOULDER TO FUCKING SHOULDER PEOPLE with no room to move laterally! Madness I tells ya madness!

And I'm not even going to go into the constant screetching of little pink, smelly babies with diapers overflowing gooey baby feces, and children going all puke-a-tronic after eating semi-cooked street meats.

So, that's it for me, it's been fun, but I'm finished. Even the constant flashes of young boobie and belly won't bring me back next year.

"Nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded."
-Yogi Bera


Had to share it


Two people have been left with severe burns after their home-made Star Wars light sabre exploded and showered them in petrol.

Mark Webb and Shelley Mandiville are thought to have filled a fluorescent tube with fuel to imitate the screen weapon.

But their clothing caught fire during the mock fight in woodland near Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire, leaving Mr Webb with 40% burns.

Police said both he and Ms Mandiville, 17, were in a critical condition in hospital in Chelmsford, Essex.

A spokesman said fire crews called to the woodland found the pair on the ground.
Police think they had been filming themselves at the time.

The latest Star Wars film, Revenge of the Sith, opened in Britain and the United States last week.

It broke the record for a single day's profits in North America, raking in a massive £27.5m.


Flick Review

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Directed by George Lucas

Saw the flick twice already, once at the private advanced screening at 19:00, and again at 00:05 and I must say I was impressed. After annoying us with fart and poopy jokes in Phantom Menace, not to mention the abomination that is Jar Jar Binks, and only doing slightly better with Attack of the Clones, George Lucas has finally given us what we wanted: a Star Wars Movie worthy of the name.

Star Wars geeks throughout the globe rejoice! This is the flick you've been waiting for!

Hayden Christiansen actually has to do some A-C-T-I-N-G in this flick, and apart from a few moments he does all right, head and shoulders above his performance in Clones to be honest. And Ian McdDirmand finally gets a chance to show off his abilities as a classically trained actor and has the biggest part he's had in any of the Star Wars films. His performance blows everyone else's out of the water. Ewan MacGreggor has got his Obi-wan down pat in this, his strongest performance in the Prequels. The weakest performance, surprisingly enough comes from Natalie Portman who basically mails it in for this one, but no matter, it's not like we'll be seeing her again in the new TV series in 2007 since they kill her off at the end.

Arms, hands, legs, and heads fly off at a number greater than any other Star Wars flick as Jedi, Sith, and clones go at it with incredible abandon that makes one wish there had been more of this in the first two movies, but what ever, the circle, as they say is now complete.

Go see it again and again and don't listen to McBain when he tells you it's crap.

Oh yeah, and I think I heard on the news that the US mint is putting George's face on the million dollar bill...


Some things

Here are some things...

What's the deal with those paper toilet seat covers you find in public washrooms?

Now there's an exercise in futility!

If there exists a virus that is virulent enough to stay alive in the OPEN AIR on a PLASTIC toilet seat for an extended period of time, no little scrap of crepe paper is going to thwart it if it feels like infecting you.

And a quick note to the lead singer of U2.

Shut the fuck up and take your drunken Irish ass back to your own country.

You want to tell people how they should vote, then try telling the folks back in Ireland before you come to Canada and start shooting your self righteous, socialist mouth off.

You are a celebrity, nothing more.

Nobody except downtown Toronto cares what you think about a political system you know nothing about!

I'm at work

Less than eight hours left until the special, free Calgary Fan Force premere of Revenge of the Sith!

I’m so excited I think my heart is going to explode!

Or maybe it’s the ten cans of Red Bull I drank before lunch…



Chilled Monkey Brainz apologizes for any Anarchy and confusion that may have resulted from the prediction of the world ending on 05/05/05 at 05:05:05 am Mountain Standard time that was made on this Blog Site several months ago.

Clearly the world is still here.

Researchers at our sister agency, the Chilled Monkey Brainz Institute of Doom, have informed us that in their initial calculations they failed to carry the two, which sent their prediction awry by thirteen months.

So never fear, the world will end on 06/06/06 at 06:06:06 am Mountain Standard Time.
Once again Chilled Monkey Brainz apologizes for any inconvenience this erroneous prediction may have caused.


Shite Jaeger Likes

-Tina Turner in her chainmail bustier/dress/armour from Thunderdome. Mmmm, post-apocalyptic push-up bra.

-Star Wars, nothin' but Star Wars, nothin' but Star Wars, alla the time! Bill Murray sang this song, back when SNL was funny...

-Weekends, except for Sunday night when that nasty "Oh shit I gotta be at work in twelve hours" feeling comes over me.

-The hour or so I can keep my home office tidy before The Grrl messes it up again.

-Words like alurring, and feh, and brainmeats.

-The phrase: "Stomp a mudhole in yer behind!"

-Lastly and most importantly, MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, for TOYS, TOYS, TOYS!


Weekly Entertainment Be Esser

Marin County (AP) This weekend George Lucas announced an “artistic parting of the ways” with actor Peter Mayhew (the actor behind the Chewbacca mask for the Original Trilogy, as well as the upcoming Revenge of the Sith) at this past weekend’s “Celebration III” convention. Lucasfilm spokesperson Lucy Autry reports that Lucas plans to remove the much beloved character from not only the DVD release of Sith, but from the Original Trilogy as well.

Tinkering with his films is nothing new to Lucas who added and changed scenes in his Original Trilogy not only for the 1997 Special Editions, but also more recently for the September 2004 DVD releases. One of the major changes being the removal of late actor Sebastian Shaw from the final scene of Return of the Jedi and replacing him with Hayden Christiansen who plays the part of young Anakin Skywalker in the Prequel Trilogy.

Autry goes on to say that Mr. Lucas plans on replacing the Wookiee character with the more child-friendly Jar-Jar Binks from the Prequel Trilogy. “. . . (Lucas) says it’ll be a nice branch, bringing the Prequel Trilogy and the Original Trilogy a little closer in terms of overall style and look.”

Look for the new “Ultimate Saga Edition” 12 disc DVD boxed set due out in stores in early 2007.


Shite That Bugs Jaeger

-Calling a "pylon" a "cone." A cone is something you eat ice cream in.

-Calling "mayonaise" "man-aise." What the fuck is wrong with you people? Can you not see there is a "y" and an "o" in that word?

-Truckers that almost kill Jaeger on the road because they don't know what a fucking YEILD sign means.

-People that refer to themselves in the third person - oh, wait, forget this one...

-Working a shitty low paying job and suffering as I wait for a dozen publishers to tell me how much they hate my work while all my friends are getting HUGE paycheques in the amount of a small lottery every fortnight while doing work that they love and at the same time bitching about how tough their life is.

-The fucking Liberal Government trying to slime it's way out of yet another scam they pulled on the taxpayer.

-That Jaeger has to think of things to write down on this list because there is so little wrong in his life right now.

-When people who can afford to buy cool shit for themselves have stuff given to them for free. Come on! Jaeger needs cool shit too! Pass that shit over this way! Wheeee!

-They way time slows to a crawl between 9am and 11am every morning.

-The Canadian Press calling Avril Levine a "DIVA" and a "pop sensation" when in reality she's an entirely mediocre artist at best.




Just a quick note to tide you over 'till later today:


Prepare yourselves for the invincible Irkan Armada!


The new one

This is the new blog site, note the new link! You can still read the old stuff on the old blog site for a limited time while I figure out how to make this the best blog Jaeger can make it. My keyboard is glitched right now so I cannot use proper punctuation without some goodam French crap coming up. If I try to do an apostrophy, I get this: è and if I try to put in Quotes I get this: È. So bear with me until Ive fixed that.

Here is a thought, well rant really, to tide you over...

Got kind the other night, kind of enraged that is! I was watching CNBC and they had a program called Cover To Cover where they were interviewing Tatum ONeil. She was the youngest actress to get an Oscar for her performance in Paper Moon when she was like, ten. Was in a bunch of flicks in the seventies, and she married John McEnroe the tennis player. She was also a celebrity drug addict for the eighties and nineties.

Anyway, like all celebrity drug addicts shes gone through rehab and now shes clean so what is the first thing she does, well write a book of course! And of course it has publishers fighting to pay her a six or seven figure advance to aquire the rights.

Dont get me wrong, I dont begrudge her the personal therapy shes getting from writing a book about how hard her life was being a rich, academy award winning movie star in the seventies, and how tough it must have been for her living in that Malibu beach house with her rich movie star father Ryan ONeil. The problem I have is with these publishers giving huge BANK to rich celebrities who they consider HEROS now because they kicked their drug habits

I cant help but think how many real artists like myself could get properly published if the book companies gave more than a passing glance to our woks insted of being blinded by the dollar signs that pop up in front of their eyes every time some celeb sob story crosses their desk.

Celebrities that write books bitching about what a tough life they had being rich and famous can shampoo my crotch.

Quote de Jour

I have no respect for people with no shopping agenda.

-Ben Affleck

Terminus Part One

The RX-7’s headlights flash across the tarmac in front of you. You’re driving the speed limit, being careful not to over drive your headlights, and of course with a cautious eye open for roadside wildlife. You know that even at low speeds, collisions with elk, or moose, or bears could be fatal for both the driver and the animal involved.

A glance at the clock on the dash tells you its approaching 10pm, which means you’ve been driving for about five hours. You stopped for gas once already in Revelstoke and were surprised to see so much cash in your wallet.

Thinking about it now brings about an intensely sharp pain to the frontal lobe meats of your brain, much like (as far as you know) the feeling of someone poking a red-hot ice pick into your skull. You decide it’s best not to think about it now and just concentrate on the long, dark, winding, mountain highway stretching out before you. A yawn catches you unawares so you decide it’s best if you find a place to pull over and rest for the night.

You don’t know how much time passes before you find yourself lying utop the covers of a bed in a tiny motel on the outskirts of Kamloops. Your head is a glorious miasma of confusion again because you know that Kamloops is at least a couple of hours from your last position just outside of Salmon Arm, and you have no recollection of driving for so long, even though you must have done.

You switch off the lamp and turn the radio on. There is an old time radio production of The Shadow (who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?) playing as you close your eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind as you drift off towards sleep you get the feeling you are forgetting something very important.

Reviews From The Chesterfield

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