Thanks, Von. Yeah, that was one freakin' Southwestern Gothic way for my daddy to die, wasn't it? He had some property way the hell out in the desert (an asbestos mine, of all the freaky things). He didn't do anything with it--his father had purchased it--but my dad had to inspect the property once a year to retain the claim on it. He and my uncle Don and my half-bro Dave went out to the mine one day. While they were there, a big whoppin' Mojave rattlesnake went slithering by
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I'm sorry about your Dad, Lor. I had no idea. :(
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