Rollin in my sweet baby's arms
Madison was lying in the canoe, his head propped on a life preserver, singing along with the Leon Russell tune being pumped from his Ipod. Occasionally he would take a long pull on the quart of Four Roses and tug the fishing line that ran just under his big toe. A little action always seemed to tantalize the small mouth bass, or so he believed. Despite the tugging he hadn't had so much as a bite all morning, and now the sun was high in the sky.
where was you last Saturday Night? he sang in an oblivious off key fashion, the discreet Sony headphones preventing any sound from his mouth reaching his ears.
The song ended and Blake scrolled through the song selections, finally deciding on Lay around the Shanty and Put a Good Buzz On. This reminded him that he had hidden a doobie in the secret pocket of his wallet, and as he sang along, he rooted through the pockets of the slacks he had shed an hour ago until he found the stash. He lit the spliftie, exhaled deeply, and his shouted "wooo HOOO!" echoed across the lake. He had finally managed to put the entire puzzling affair of Smurch's murder out of his head. "These things have a way of working themselves out," he thought, his mouth unconsciously yammering the thought out loud. He tipped up the whiskey, and suddenly felt a ferocious yank on the fishing line. With a Hot damn! he jerked the pole to set the hook, felt the line running out against the drag as the fish dove deep. He stuck the joint between his lips and stood up for leverage, peering over the side. "Ah crap," he said. He was hung up. On the topmost branch of a 230 foot high Ponderosa Pine.
As the line strained, then snapped, Madison looked up to see the bay doors of a huge hovering craft sliding open to admit him and his canoe. Mouth agape, he pinched the ash on the doobie and flicked it into the bottom of the boat as John Prine sang into his ears you may see me tonight with an illegal smile, it don't cost very much, but it lasts a long while.
The doors latched shut under him, and the canoe settled onto them with a metallic creak. It was dark, dark and cool inside. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed several shadowy figures moving in his peripheral vision, and strangely luminous orbs...eyes. Blake realized he was holding the fishing pole like a baseball bat poised over his shoulder, and reckoned the aliens in the craft might see that as a threatening gesture, so he slowly placed it in the bottom of the boat. Taking the lid off of the Four Roses, he offered it with a grin to the shadow-watchers. "No? Well...hope you don't mind if I have a quick snoot." He gurgled down some bourbon, held up his forefinger and said "OK, now listen. I don't know what you guys have in mind, but no messing around with my belly-button...and anal probes are strictly out of the question!"
No sooner had Madison spoken these words than the shadows rushed in on him, he felt a tremendous throbbing sensation in his temples, and lost consciousness.