Putting A Face On The Story

As I expected, Dale was at The Palace again yesterday; once addicted they always come back. I immediately went up to him and asked how he was enjoying his visit, and I must have been feeling a little guilty because I bought him a beer. This proved a good investment because he bought me four.

Dale tried to clear up any misconception by explaining that he was a conservative, not a Republican and that he, too, felt betrayed by Bush. I understood the difference since any real conservative would be hanging themselves in guilt if only for the notion that you never spend more than you make. Other patrons, though, were not so understanding. Our environmental historian, Frank, tore into him like a pitbull and at one point I had to intercede and ask for time out. A nearby tourist jumped in, too, and attacked. In the end, only the violent rain storm distracted everyone from the near-lynching of Dale. We granted him safe passage for the day, a signed picture of Mothra, but warned him clearly that he could not expect the weather to save his ass every time. And then there are the alligators.