Moonshine Mountain: The Lost Months Part III

We are proud to present the concluding installment in our series of rare archival ravings from Moonshine Mountain.

Saturday, September 27, 2003

It's good to be home. Not literally "home," of course, since my mandatory detention period after being removed from my flight in handcuffs is 48 hours. Sheesh, you'd think no one had ever barricaded himself inside the lavatory with the drinks cart before.

Sunday, October 5, 2003

My first week of residency at Serenity Ranch has seen a startling transformation in my demeanor. To anyone who spots me cheerfully whistling as I gather brush, shovel manure or mend small holes in the fence, it's clear that sobriety agrees with me. As the last purple rays of the setting sun fade into twilight, I slip on an errant cowflop and fall face-first into a mound of bovine excrement the size of Ford Escort. It smells like victory.

Monday, October 6, 2003
At approximately 3:15 am, I escape Serenity Ranch using a shiv carved from my toothbrush and a bungee cord comprised of some 700 rubber bands. In the morning, they'll find nothing but my shoes.

Wish I'd brought my shoes.

Wednesday, October 22, 2003
I've been staying with a kindly group of marine biology graduate students in their communal residence. Since moving in I have learned how to prepare over a dozen tasty dishes using plankton as a primary ingredient, how to operate a mucous bag suspension feeder, and how to play "Uncle John's Band" on the acoustic guitar.

Monday, November 3, 2003
I have been asked to leave after Creech complained during the house meeting that I'd been tampering with the chore wheel. No hard feelings. I feel as though I've had enough adventures over the past six months to last a lifetime. As I hotwire Creech's VW microbus and peel out of the driveway, I can only wonder what tomorrow will bring.

This concludes Moonshine Mountain: The Lost Months. We now return to our regularly scheduling whining, already in progress.