GAME ENTRY 1 // "CALM BEFORE THE STORM" // OCT 22 - 28, 2007

[cougar_ridge_v2]

The more things change, the more they stay the same, goes the old saying. In Cougar Ridge, that can't be more true. It's been nearly two years since the disastrous incidents that left the town a bullet riddled mess, but life does move on. However, it moves on in ways that people rarely expect. Many of those who were at the center of the strangeness

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[ronald_felps]

Dressed in a simple gray jacket unzipped over an even simpler white shirt, lodged inside the black wheelchair which is designed for prolonged comfort and bedecked with an American flag from the right side of its back and a purple heart pinned under it, I'd just finished another shift at the general store on Cheyenne and 1st, which let me out with enough time to do, well, a few things. The town was small enough, and my pension equally miniscule, that I hadn't gotten the full service gimpmobile before I got here and collected a few checks fron Uncle Sam.

The truck I bought from Barry is being fit with the cripple-rig over at the garage. Which means I'm left hoofing it - or, in this case, wheeling it.

While most might have some modicum of self-denial and cover it with a sheet, the most 'covering' I do is the pair of Jeans that are tucked under my ass to curtail empty flaps waving around under me. My powerful arms, strengthened from just over a year of this exercise, propel me down 1st St to the best answer I have for the things that run endlessly through my mind.

O'Malley's Bar.

The door jingles as I enter, and approach the bar, speed-gloved hands raising to grasp the bar end and tap, to make my presence clear, since I don't sit as high over the bar as people standing or on their stools.

"Beer me," I order with the change dropped from my hand.