I've been to the North Pole and a question about Indy

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Posted by the 'slinger from ww-ta02.proxy.aol.com on December 30, 1997 at 00:29:03:

When the child was but in the belly of the wife, I had taken it upon myself to go to the North Pole. The wife had been eating more of late and had pressured me to lay quantities of foods on her plate. Foods I did not have nor wanted to obtain. However, the cries and harangues were constant and these begot an idea in my head that were I to skin some varmints and make commercial use of the pelts, food would be plentiful and the acccusations would cease.

I then awoke one morn', pulled over the serape and made way for Canada. Here I smited many small varmints but discarded them because I did not think they would fetch more than smirks. A few I kept. They were minks and raccoons, I concluded, and were well worth the long hours toiling in the white cold of the snow laden hills. As I loaded the dead bodies onto my sleigh, a man by the name of Tuco Retch approached. He was an ugly fellow but was hardworking and soon won over my friendship. How he did this was quite remarkable. He asked me to make water and, as I complied, he gathered twigs and made a fire all the while I was in mid stream. By the time I was twittering a few concluding squirts, the fire was up and crackling and a warm evening was before us. That night, whilst I was sleeping, Tuco Retch stole my pelts and, upon waking, I resolved to smite him before night fell again. Tuco Retch took what was a 'slinger's. For that, he would lose the wind in his throat for all time.

I found Tuco Retch ice-fishing a good few miles from the encampment and I quietly reminded him that he had the skins of a 'slinger. He confirmed that he did but chose not to tell me that he felt he was in grave violation. I, therefore, told him that he was. Upon this information, he slowly stood up and sharply looked into my eye. When he made for his pistole, I lunged forward and grabbed the brigand by the throat. He struggled forcefully beneath me but when a 'slinger grabs one by the throat, he does not release until the larynx has been crushed and the jugular has been lacerated. Tuco Retch was grabbed by such a 'slinger.

Two days later, I found myself at the edge of Canada and, indeed, the edge of land. With the help of Tuco Retch's tools, I crafted a raft from the sleigh and made off across the near freezing waters. Sustaining myself on Tuco Retch's foodstuffs and with my little furry corpses insulating me, I was able to continue North over a period of days without ceasing. When I decided that a particular ice drift represented the North Pole, I climbed aboard it and began to lay out my furs. I masturbated, thinking of the wife and the many women I have known during my fine days of slinging. When I awoke, I realized with more than a bit of surprise that the furs were squirming beneath me. I was, however, soon to discover that the squirms did not come from my minks and raccoons but from a half dozen white polar bears. And behind them, reared the shape of the largest beast. A foul monstrosity of which I chose to name Mother Polar Bear. She was quite large measuring to be twice the size of the mule. She boxed me off the side of an ear and I stumbled and found, within my head, a throbbing pain. I am a 'slinger and I do not let anyone outbox me, polar bear or otherwise.

I meted out some blows to Mother Polar Bear and, all too soon, I had her nose bleeding and her left eye half closed. A few more thrusts and she begged for mercy in the form of a gurgle. With my left palm covering her little black nose, I reached inside her maw with my fingers and inserted that which I sling. I unhitched the clicker and let that which I sling shout its ka-pows.

A few weeks later, the polar bear's pelt fetched funds that paid for the wife's food and a crib for the new born baby.

Should they flashforward to Indy as an old man ala Dustin Hoffman in Little Big Man?

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