Harry rolls over

When we last left Harry, the forces of nature had saved him from a watery grave. A perfect 4-point roll upright shrouded him in a heavy fog, wetter than the underside of the river. He had raised his resolve and paddle to the foggy skies, and proclaimed:

Justice will rule and man’s torment shall be assuaged!

Then it hit him! He had forgotten to put on Betsy’s Denver boots. Where was Dr. Maybe? Has he stolen Betsy? Kidnapped Sophie? Where was Sophie? In fact, WHO was Sophie or Sophia, for that matter? Was she a Nurse in a Neurosurgical Unit, an outdoorsy killer in a bee-ridden wilderness, a quasi-interested waitress in a roadside café? Was she seeking revenge for the many years his foes had used her as bait? Would she ever forgive him or did she understand and join him in his battle to rid the world the evil and unattractive Dr. Maybe? Alternatively, perhaps she had been swayed by the evil man’s maniacal laughter and relentless determination to rule the world. Was she trying to help him or hurt him? Harry’s head swam with questions as well as with the frothy white water of the Milk River. He had flipped again. Again, he spins upright into the thick fog. He is as blind as a bat in the cold damp mist and doesn’t have sonar. He tries sucking the fog in with his wide but powerful lungs. Nope. Spruce trees tower darkly. The river gushes around his feet like a flooding toilet. A sensation he has experienced…when….was it…?


To be continued…