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Carl Ivan Carlson
IV
The local county saloon branded the Cow Whip after the stampede of '39 eventually became the stomping ground of the once estranged man, Monsieur Etienne Philippe IIX. Before Etienne's abrupt and baffling arrival, the Cow Whip was on its last leg and its owner on the verge of bankruptcy, but his frequent patronage saved it from the inevitable. Etienne's untroubled and revelry attitude, combined with his library of worldly adventures and accounts, packed the neglected saloon to seam bursting capacity every night subsequent to his arrival. The locals were constantly fascinated with his extraordinary story that literally landed him in Deer Lick. Etienne never minded repeating it, as his heavy consumption of free brandy put up by the locals always guaranteed the retelling to be equally interesting to him. "Hey Etienne, Billy here ain't never had de privilege of hearin' abouts how you arrived in this here town" slurred the town drunk between sips of his homemade plum moonshine. Etienne as always looked up with a devilish smirk that overwhelmed his red and chubby face and hollered to the bar tender the words that seemed to come most familiarly to his mouth, "Crack open another bottle of brandy and lets see if I can remember how it goes." At the drop of these words, the loud clatter of the bar immediately settled to an awkward silence that Etienne eagerly filled following the arrival of the brandy to his centrally located table. "Following a long and eventless summer at my families chateau in the South of France, I felt like an adventure to break up the tedium I had encountered while entertaining my father in order to fall into his grace and will once again. Father reluctantly agreed to fund a several month trip for me to hunt in North Africa as a reward for behaving uncharacteristically tolerable and sober. Immediately, I packed to avoid my father's tendency to change his mind and my tendency to accidentally provoke him to do so. Seeing as this is my second bottle of brandy and it is approaching morning, I will keep this unusually short. After crossing over the Mediterranean from the southern tip of Italy to Cairo on a rickety steamboat, I hired several natives to guide me south to the untamed Zaire grasslands. I had high hopes of bagging a large elephant and possibly a gazelle, but many said I was arriving to late in the season to capitalize on the big game. Unfortunately the natives were right and several weeks into my trip I had not seen any game worth mounting. It now seems appropriate to introduce crazy Charlie from a place that escapes me now, but wherever it might have been it was obviously not a place that breed intelligence, manners, or common sense. Charlie's hunting expedition was going as sour as mine. I had settled for spending my days high on cheap whiskey, but old Charlie was determined to make his trip a success. When I met old Charlie, we instantly became friends for he enjoyed the bottle just as much as I did, if not more and he never failed to make the dull African nights interesting with his odd antics and stories. Quickly I discovered that Charlie was eager, ambitious, and to a degree clever, yet his feeblemindedness hindered his ability to amount to anything. Charlie spent most of our nights together impatiently concocting exaggerated and grossly juvenile methods to make his hunting trip a success. Though despite the cleverness he believed his ideas entailed, most of them contained the intelligence similar to that of a young boy attempting to attach wings to his arms and fly off his father's barn. Eventually Charlie came up with a plan that caught my interest, but it did not do so until I was on my third bottle of whiskey and every shed of intelligence had fled my inebriated body. Early that night a young inventor with an apparent gambling problem mistakenly sat down with old Charlie to a high stakes game of Texas Hold'em poker. Charlie's only noteworthy attribute worth mentioning was his innate ability to play cards. Within an hour Charlie had taken the inventor for all of his money, a gold pocket watch with an engraving on the back that read Best of luck in Africa, may you easily find success, and lastly, but most importantly his version of what he called a hot air balloon. By the end of the night crazy Charlie had convinced me to attempt a hunt from the air in his newly acquired hot air balloon. If there is one thing I am not it is reluctant, as long as I am accompanied by a bottle of eighty proof. The idea of hunting from the air seemed logical, so I enthusiastically stumbled onboard the hot air balloon with my bottle of courage in my back pocket. Unfortunanly folks, the rest of the story will always be a mystery to me as I have no recollection of the events that proceeded, the only thing I know is that it culminated in John Gray's field." The end of Etienne's story frequently disappointed the crowded bar, though his excessive drinking rarely allowed him to finish his account. Nevertheless, simply due to the fact that Etienne had experienced life beyond Deer Lick, all of his stories fascinated the locals.
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