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SUMMER OF '95
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THE SUMMER OF '95 By Justynn Tyme

    It was the last summer/ autumn before the great expedition to Oklahoma. Where thoughts of a new life and anxiety based on fears danced hand in hand around the two young travelers full of trepidation. Just as Stock and I were planning to leaving, the great blizzard of 1995/1996 hit town. I remember quite distinctly I slept; if you called freezing to death sleeping in a barren room of a rural shack in the dead of winter.

    It was the season before when Stock was almost living at my house exclusively with in a week or two intervals. I remember it as the masher of all summers. I was starving to death while washing my clothes for work in the sink. I couldn't afford to use the gas or do the laundry per say. I dined on a diet of spaghetti and green beans for longer than I care to mention. That was also the year I got a dog, go figure. Mango, was crazy, happy go lucky mutt who had no care in the world. I couldn't afford to have him fixed and if I let him out on his own he would have made it to Oklahoma before we did. So I had this elaborate set up so he could go out on his own without me having to watching him. It was, as my Dad insultingly stated "third world" at our house.

    As I said I had the set up for Mango, my dog who was a mixed breed. Part pointer and collie with black and white beauty marks. I rescued Mango from a certain place at a certain time from a certain somebody, whom I didn't even know. I was asked to smuggled this abused pup across the state line but which state is purely speculative. I lived out so far in the woods you couldn't even get cable there at the time. I tied a long metal cord from the house to a tree all the way across the yard. A good two three hundred feet, which I had a secondary leash hanging down from it which attached to Mango's collar. The secondary leash was a good hundred feet itself. I made it with the hopes he wouldn't feel trapped nor could he get away to embark on one of his mission to find a paramour. It was doomed from the beginning because dogs don't understand basic physics. So when I got home in the morning he was always tangled in the trees, one day it was so bad he had only a three inches in which to move.

    During the bouts of starvation, cross dressing obsessions and untangling that damn dog. Stack managed to pop over for a few days and cheer me up. That was the year we filmed our parody of the Olympics and the year Stack first recorded comedy on his own. That was also the year we crammed into that little studio with the brown walls, tiny windows and shallow carpet. It had a rotten ambience but we had the wildest recording sessions there. Even with the equipment set up in the closet (Stock always thought that was cool). That was also the year I started putting together our demo tape. Also the year I first started organizing and cataloguing the written archives. It was also the same year I started writing 22 scripts at the same time. Today; I think only seven of them are actually finished. It amazing what you do when you do have the option of eating and doing things. I finally got him neutered a few days before I left and a year later he was dead. Ain't that a big bag of bullshit! Phooey!!!