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6/22/2005


Evans enjoy kind of a Southwestern thing in their kitchens. Brents tape a picture of Roger Moore to their fridge and call it a day.
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Last week, as I was disc golfing ....

I found someone's disc in one of the rough patches. Written on it was "Johnny Blaze". Disc golf etiqute is to call the number usually written on the back of the disc.

For example, my discs say "Kinkade 1-800-FUN-BUNS"

Except the number written on Johnny Blaze's disc had been rubbed out. I put it in my bag and decided to leave it at the kiosk in the parking lot. Except I forgot all about it.

On Monday I went to go play and found Johnny Blaze's disc still in my bag.

"Shit," I thought, "I forgot to do that thing. You know what, I'll just leave the disc right here and let someone else deal with it."

So, I go on to play a horrible game where I actually end up losing a disc of my own.

On my way out I see the Johnny Blaze disc I had left laying about. I decide that since I lost a disc God owes me one.

So, I pick it up. As I'm holding the disc I see a dude working on a new type of putt that I'm trying out.

"Hey, man can you show me how you do that thing that you're doing?" I ask.

"Sure," he says.

I toss a few discs until I get a feel for how to do it. We both walk around to pick up our discs.

Then I notice it.

On the back of his discs is written "Johnny Blaze".

"You ... you're Johnny Blaze?"

"Yep."

"This is your disc then. What are the odds? What are the odds that I would use the very disc I had just decided against leaving in the woods in front of you? I mean, what are the odds of us meeting right here as I was just thinking about you, a complete stranger?"

"Yeah... Hmm. Wow."

"Yeah. Well, take it easy."

And as I left Johnny Blaze I could hear him still saying. "Huh.... Hmmm..."

Cause that's how I like to leave my impression on people. Grateful they met me. A little confused. Questioning the very fabric of the universe.
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