Sticks and stones used to break my bones but now words can end my life, ‘cause everything’s a bomb.

So I’ve always had this theory. Well, not always, I guess it’s something I’ve just developed over the years. My own personal head canon. It’s about Dick Clark, Ryan Seacrest, and Merlin.

See there used to be this running joke that Dick Clark aged in reverse, and the legends about Merlin said much the same thing. I sort of got it into my head that Clark was Merlin, so when he up and disappeared and Seacrest started fulfilling all his previous obligations, it only made sense that Seacrest was also Merlin. I’ve since disabused myself of that notion, having found photos of Clark and Seacrest together, and the common wisdom was that it was a sort of teacher/student relationship, which seems obvious, but then Clark died and Seacrest started not only doing his shows like the New Years countdown, but also displaying his mannerisms. And aside from losing some weight and gaining a little grey in his hair, Seacrest doesn’t look like he’s aged a day since 2012.

So instead of it being the same person, what if it’s a body hopping entity like the one that moved to Mitch McConnell from the dying breath of Strom Thurmond? How many of these body hoppers are out there?

It’s thought like these that keep me up at night.

The drive to Red Lake from Duluth is long. The res itself is in the northern corner of the state, bordering on the Boundary Waters, and just a cunt hair away from Bemidji, and there’s basically nothing up that way once you pass through Grand Rapids except a handful of Indian Casinos. We got a late start and it was rainy as fuck that day, so instead of heading straight on through Black Duck to Red Lake (yeah, northern Minnesota town names leave a bit to be desired) we stopped about an hour out on the outskirts of Bemidji and checked in to the Cedar Lakes casino for the night.

Cedar Lakes is a real casino, not just a building with a bar, ashtrays (sovereign land… they allow smoking indoors), and a handful of video poker and slot machines. It has the full run of tables that you’d find in any Vegas or Atlantic City place, albeit with lower limits and on a generally smaller scale. Anwyn, having the company card, sent me ahead to scout out food options while she checked us in. Turns out that the buffet wasn’t half bad and after she joined me in the line for it we sat and had a pretty pleasant meal while talking about inanities. Her earlier tendency toward austerity of words had all but evaporated by this juncture, and it turned out that once she warmed up to someone, she could be quite the chatterbox, so we talked about a whole range of non-work related topics ranging from favorite television finales (hers was Breaking Bad, mine will always be M.A.S.H.), to favorite musical group (she was oddly into Rehab, while my guilty pleasure is Barenaked Ladies), to favorite movie (Casablanca for both of us… as it should be for everyone), while dining on the usual fare. I admit that I was a little more circumspect than usual at an all-you-can-eat buffet, going for smaller portions and a lighter fare than I usually indulge in; she ate like a horse.

Finally she let out a satisfied, if distinctly unladylike belch, and brought her hands together over her belly. “I’m bushed. You’re driving next time.”

“I would have been willing to take the wheel at any time.”

“I know, but… old habits, I guess. River was one of the worst drivers I’ve ever seen.” She reached into her ever-present backpack and produced a keycard, which she slid across the table to me. “There’s your key. I’m gonna head up and take a hot shower.”

I walked around the floor for a while, checking out the tables and the gift shop. I briefly considered playing some poker, but all they had on offer was Hold ‘Em and I prefer five card draw. On a whim I dropped a quarter into an old school one-armed bandit and watched the reels spin landing on a bar, a lemon, and a cherry, netting me a big fat nothing. That was when I decided that bed was probably the best option.

Room 318 was situated toward the end of a wood paneled hallway, carpeted in a deep red and lit by wall sconces. I swiped my way in, stripped out of my clothes, and collapsed onto the king sized bed. I’m not sure how long I was out before my slumber was interrupted by the distinct sensation of Warm Female Body sliding under the covers next to me. I hadn’t even noticed the shower running.

(Title: “Too Old”, Barenaked Ladies)