So while I slumber at night, the evil Empire, aka Mudd's Merry Men and accompaniment are hard at work, toiling for my Hill soul. Hard they work posting and chatting amongst themselves like a scene from MacBeth. "Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble" were chanted time and time again. From darkness somewhere in Mudd's very land comes the calling from the bowels of bowdom. "Go northwest, northwest" comes the call. "The bow you seek is northwest".
I awake night after night, sweating, dizzy and disorientated. What could the dream mean, what is this magical land called "northwest". Each day I busy myself with work, with chores. At night I drink coffee and dare the night to approach. It comes all the same and the dreams with it.
Night after night the dreams come until suddenly a message from this land called Missouri and with it the key to it all. Like the wishful guitarist who stands at the crossroads anticipating Ole' Scratch, I await the offering.
As I awake one starry night I realize it's not a dream, but reality and opportunity. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK comes the pounding on my door. Who am I to resist such temptation? How is a mere mortal to withstand the constant onslaught? "Come in, Come in" says I.
Then, as if the fog lifts, the moon steps aside and the "North Star" shines with all the answers there revealed in wondrous lines of symmetry and glorious form.
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North Star takes its place along side such greats as Wesley, Halfbreed, Redman, and Cheetah.
Tim