The battered econoline van rattled and coughed its way around the corner and shuddered to a momentary halt, belching clouds of oily exhaust from the dangling and corroded tailpipe.

Shane Mc----, otherwise known as Blind DRunk in Blind River, peered through the cracked and filthy windshield, squinting his pale blue eyes..."Geez, look at that, Don! There's a flippin bear tryin' to get inta the McGill over there!"

"That's a flippin' GRIZZLY, man!" said Don, pushing back his Blue Jays baseball cap. "This must be the place, eh?"

"Decent!" exclaimed Shane. "Man, that bear is, like, huge, eh? I wisht I had my BB machine gun handy, and I would give it to him right in the ass, eh?"

"Gimme a break, you loser!" retorted Don. The last time you tried that, man, you was, like, in the lake for an hour freezin' yer balls off."

"Yeah, well, I would, like, plan ahead this time, and don't call me a loser eh? I'll flippin' pound ya!"

"Yeah? I'd like to see ya flippin' try!"

Don was getting a strange sense of deja vu...had he had this conversation with Shane before...once or twice? Or a thousand times? He shook his head to clear the CO fumes that had been drifting up through the holes in the floor, and tried to remember which part came next...

"Hey, look, man! The F-in bear is goin' back inta the bar. Let's go! They've got back bacon, eh?"

Don wrenched the van back in gear and coaxed it into the parking lot, where it gratefully died.

A vile smell was drifting on the wind.

"Geez, man, what did you eat?" groaned Shane, glaring at his brother accusingly.

"Up yours, bolthole!" retorted Don casually. They got out of the van.

Shane was a classically oafish looking young Canadian, probably about 26 or thereabouts, dressed in jeans, a dirty T-shirt, work boots, and a really disgusting old windbreaker. He had a Leafs cap on his head...backwards, of course. His hair was about shoulder length, unkempt, greasy, and dirty blonde in colour. He also sported a medium-sized mustache, poorly trimmed, and about a week's growth of stubble.

Don was fairly similar in appearance, but with a short beard, and he was clearly at least a couple of years older. He was beginning to get a receding hairline, and usually took pains to cover it up with his own Blue Jays' cap, also worn backwards.

He had an Iron Maiden T-shirt on, and a tattoo that said "Born Wasted" on his right bicep.

The bear had vanished into the Tavern. Don and Shane adjusted their baseball caps for maximun effect and strode up to the front door.

"Losers first," said Shane, gallantly, gesturing at the handle, and grinning.

"Yeah, right!" said Don, sarcastically. He opened the door. "Last one in is a gapless retread...retread!"

Blind River had officially arrived.

- LH