There was moose stew.
There was giddy-happy bouncing.
There was eight hours of intense smiling.
There was seeing water from behind.
There were comrades who, in mid-sentence, would disappear, leaving only a smile behind.
But.
There was no rum.
R. Scott Shanks, Jr.
There was moose stew.
There was giddy-happy bouncing.
There was eight hours of intense smiling.
There was seeing water from behind.
There were comrades who, in mid-sentence, would disappear, leaving only a smile behind.
But.
There was no rum.