by: Rick Johnson
PO Box 40451
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Aye, I remember her. She had hair like flames, a smile to turn any man’s head and eyes like ice to freeze your soul. I served under her then when she was younger and not so hard in the soul.
She changed after that incident with the Crown of Valusia. You know, that old crown of some serpent-king that was ‘accidently’ given as a dowry to another kingdom. Sonja was sent to get it back and she met that barbarian, what was his name? Conan! Right! That’s the one. Big and dumb but with arms like a bear so you never said that to his face.
Well, before then she was a nice enough woman, she’d dance and sing on the table-tops with her men and we said she was “Every man’s Delight and no man’s Love”. Then after that Crown affair she changed.
On the way back home after she stole it, she would sit for hours watching the thing. Just staring. We’d have to force her to eat sometimes and she’d call a halt to rest the horses even when they were fresh then she’d put that thing on a rock and stare some more. Then she quit the king’s service walked away from the Company and started to wear that padded mail bikini of hers. Padded! Aye, padded! She was our Captain and when water was scarce she’d bathe with the rest of us so we all knew that she was a natural redhead if you get my meaning and she was no more than any other woman. But the woman was good with a sword and any man who touched her would loose that hand so we looked and dreamed but never more than dream. Now, I wonder how she can stand up. And she is cold as ice. Never dances, never sings, always alone and hating men for some reason.
I know the stories, but they change with the years. We know she lost her family, murdered and she violated at seventeen but then, what girl of that age is still unicorn-bait? She didn’t care for men or even women in that way but she never hated them either and she never let her past affect her and she would sing and dance and drink with her men… until that mission.
Now she broods and dresses like she wants men to make a grab at her so she can kill them. And I hear she tells another story about when she was still younger. All Mercs lie. It’s what we do to make ourselves seem bigger and better but this? Padded bra, changing her history to seem more tragic, being alone, brooding all the time, drinking but not enjoying the drink. Something in that Crown changed her. I don’t know if it brought up the darkness that was always inside or if it made her dark but she isn’t the Red Sonja of Hyrkania I served under.
But it’s the old Sonja I remember, my old captain.
How did I meet her? Well, it was years ago, I was still young then and thought I was as immortal as the gods. We all do. That’s whey so many of us die so young. We think we are immortal and we take chances to get a rep and most of us die. I got that beaten out of me real fast when Jarad got his belly ripped open in my first battle. He died in my arms calling for his mother and the blood! So much blood! I never knew a body had that much blood in it. That made me more careful I’ll tell you.
Then we had to recruit replacements and here she came. Probably eighteen if that with an attitude. She had this old sword that she had lightened, wore a byrnie of mail she probably stole. Later she told me she did steal it. Leather pants and shirt and not much more. We were desperate for men or we’d have sent her away and so the Captain tested her and she was good. Not as good as she is now but good enough for her size and age. She said her father was a soldier and taught her brothers to fight and she would practice alone what she observed. She couldn’t lift an axe or mace and had to use a lighter blade but she used her speed saying that she wasn’t as strong as a hulk of a man but she was faster and could get inside his swing and run him through the weak points in his armor.
So she passed and we trained her to be better and she would drink any of us under the table. When she wasn’t dancing ON the table that is. Once a new guy tried to bed her when they were both drunk and she sobered up fast and left him singing soprano, if you get my meaning. The rest of us took him aside and left him hanging by his ankles from a tree for the night. Sonja was one of ours and we protect our own.
She was always at the front of the battles, fast and moving and that was strange because when you are wearing forty pounds of armor, you tend to stand in one place and hack-and-slash to save energy. But she wore that byrnie that must have been made for a child as it barely covered her hips and a light helmet and she’d move fast, get someone to break ranks and chase her then she’d turn and kill him and do it again.
And smart! For a farm girl the woman had brains. Once we were on the line and she saw something and called for me and four or five others to follow. We followed her because, well, she was hot and a good fighter and she had seen an opening and then we hit them from behind and broke their line and that turned the battle. After that, she got fined for leaving her position then immediately promoted to Corporal. I could see she was a riser. By the time she was twenty she was Captain in her own right and we’d follow her to hell if she asked us. And she did.
Hell! I’m serious. We actually did.
She entered the barracks like she always did, wearing those short leather pants that revealed her legs to her boot-tops. She had nice legs. They were her best feature. And her shirt and vest. All women wore a vest to stop themselves from bouncing but Sonja didn’t have that much to bounce. Her father’s sword hung from her left hip and her dagger from her right. She even had a small throwing dagger that she recently took to wearing on her thigh.
Sonja looked around at them, half of the company napping, the other half playing at dice or cleaning our kits when one called out, “We have room for another Captain!” She looked at the coins on the floor before them, mostly copper for they were soldiers, not Nobles and asked, “Are those the loaded dice?”
Insulted but not really Harlon laughed back, “No Captain. I save those for when we are in town. Here I’m honest.” And he was because cheating your own would often result in being suddenly alone when facing a cavalry charge.
“Maybe later then. Ok LISTEN UP!” She gave them a chance to wake the nappers and when all were gathered she continued, “We have a job. Out illustrious Majesty,” she waited for the giggles to fade then, “informs me that his second cousin on his wife’s side, or something like that, has gotten himself lost exploring some ruins on the border. WE are to find the man and return him here. SAFE! That means that you keep your hands to yourself.” She looked at Milos at that while everyone laughed. Milos liked men. Ordinarily they’d have shoved him in a bag and taken turns with him to teach him a lesson about gay-boys but the man was a good fighter and always bought a round and so the mercs knew that they could depend on him so they joked and laughed when he would seduce some noble he saw because damn! The man was so good looking even Sonja stared at him sometimes.
“So I need six volunteers to go with me. No, not you, you need your rest, Harlon, you just volunteered!”
“Why me Captain?” He asked rolling his dice because he really didn’t want to go. Sonja was always given the most dangerous jobs. Partly because the King thought that she’d get tired of risking her life and agree to join his harem but mainly because she was good. She had a saying, “I am Red Sonja, I don’t know how to fail”. What the king didn’t understand was that Sonja loved danger. She courted death like most men court a fair lass. Some thought she was a little bit in love with death and felt guilty for living while her family died but if so, they kept that to themselves.
“Because Harlon, you aren’t reckless. You never take chances and actually want to retire an old man. So you are safe. Get packed.” Then she strode away. Sonja never walked, she strode.
You never argued with the Captain. It wasn’t because it was dangerous like some of the Nobles who would flog a man for asking questions and thought their men were naught but fodder to be wasted like the leaves used to wipe their arses. No, you never argued with Sonja because it didn’t do any good. She was like a pit-dog, the kind they breed to fight bulls. Once she grabbed hold of a job, she never let go. But you knew that she was one of you and she never sacrificed a man she could save. So all they loved her in the taverns and respected her on the field.
Since the day was hot and the trip long, her men had their armor tied to their pack-horses and she looked each over, each man in travel-gear, mounted with a pack horse for food and gear and another for armor and weapons. Sonja didn’t like supply wagons. She said they slowed her down and after another glance, she turned and rode to the East with her men following.
Since they started late they had to stop for the night only a dozen leagues from the city even thought the captain pushed on hours past sunset. But the road was good and the Moon nearing full so it wasn’t as dangerous as it could have been. By the time they stopped and wiped the horses down, everyone was tired.
Sonja walked among her men, talking to each, occasionally checking a shoe or harness as they made a fire and prepared the evening meal. Fortunatly mercs don’t need much light to do what they do best, loaf, and by the time the meat was cooking, everyone was relaxed. Sonja sat next to her men, carved a piece of mutton from the spit and with some bread in her other hand, chewed while her men talked and ate and drank. Well within the borders, there was no need for a guard though she posted one anyway, more to keep the horses nearby than to fight off bandits or such.
“So Captain Sonja,” Harlon asked. “What’s the real reason for this?”
She took a drink of wine from the skin and passed it on, “What makes you think this is more than what I say?”
“We don’t get the easy jobs.”
She laughed, “True. It comes from being the best.” She unlaced her vest and loosened her bosom to fluff her breasts not even careing that all eyes were on her. Then continued, “But this seems exactly what I said. That fop of a prince has a thing for old ruins and took some men to sketch a new set he was told about. It’s been a couple weeks and the King is worried and sent us to get him. Had it been more than that, he’d send the entire company.” She stood and stretched tired muscles bending over to clutch her ankle then wiggle until she was satisfied that she’d not cramp during the night. The rest of her men had already done the same but not with her flexibility.
Dumas leaned over and whispered to Harlon, “I’ll bet she could put her ankles behind her ears.” who whispered back, “If we were that young and kept stretching, we could too. But her exercises are what keeps her limber and able to cut you and me to ribbons.”
“I was thinking of…” his companion poked him to stop that line of speech. All thought it but only the stupidest man would say it to her face. Sometimes he wondered if she forgot she was a woman, she was so casual about herself, she often acted like one of the guys.
The next morning the group awoke, had a casual breakfast and rode on, stopping for lunch and a couple breaks to rest their horses and switch packs between the steeds so it was during the third day that they found the ruins exactly as promised. They were hidden in the hills and made of black stone covered with green moss that made it difficult to see unless you knew what to look for and where. Standing nearby Sonja commented, “I can see why these were lost for so long. I can’t tell if they were made to resemble the rocks or are so weathered that the comparison is inevitable. Well, nothing to do but scout the place. Harlon, you take the right, Milos the left. Take one man with you each and keep your eyes open. You should meet on the other side then continue seeking what the other may have missed. I’ll look around this side for evidence of the prince. We’ll enter together when you return.”
As the four rode off, Sonja and the remaining men began to examine the outside for signs of entry and activity. Harlon made good progress, holding his own companion back and pausing often to examine the vegetation for signs of disturbance. “The Captain says that the Prince came her to sketch the ruins so look for a view that would attract an artist.”
After a half-hour of search, they met the other group and Milos called out, “Harlon, find anything?”
“Nothing. If he is here, he never came this way but must have gone directly inside.”
“I wonder why the Captain has us searching instead of going straight in?”
“Best to not question the Captain. She has a quick temper but I’ve found that she usually knows what she’s doing so best to follow orders and trust the woman.”
Milos nodded then, “Good search but watch the rocks on the eastern side. You can lame a horse if you’re not careful.”
“Thanks for the advice. See you inside.” Then they continued on, each lost in their own thoughts until they finally met at the entrance. Milos was already there and when Harlon arrived Sonja told them, “I’ve looked around and this place hasn’t been disturbed in weeks. There’s horse dung around but that’s a week old at least and no sign of horses. So armor up light and get ready. But don’t go shooting anything that moves. The prince may be inside painting and the King will crucify anyone who accidently shoots the man.”
Sonja put her padded jacket over her body then pulled her light mail over that, stuck her helmet on her head and waited for the rest to arm. She preferred a light armor that would stop a casual cut but allow her to move quickly since she wasn’t big enough to take a strong blow from a mace or axe and so felt moving away from danger was smarter than enduring injury. Then when all were ready, she assigned one man to watch the horses and led the remaining five inside. “Careful, these walls look like they’ve been hit by a catapult. I don’t want the ceiling coming down.”
Looking the room over, Milos said, “It looks like someone deliberately tried to level this place. I wonder why?”
She motioned and Harlon and Milos moved ahead with drawn bows to take up positions just inside. When they were set and watching, she nodded and Kilon and Aross moved in with spears to guard the next opening. The last man remained at the entrance, shield and spear at the ready. Sonja then moved ahead with sword at the ready then paused next to a pillar as her men advanced two by two until all were well inside the main room. She looked up to see light filtering in from an opening above and glanced to the floor which was littered with debris and bird droppings. Whistling to attract attention, she pointed to the floor and made a motion with her fingers as if she were walking then she made another motion as if breaking a stick and pointed to the floor again. Her men looked down and nodded.
Then secure that no one would step on a branch and give them away, she pointed to the doorway at the rear and waited while her men took up positions flanking the opening. Leaving the fifth man at the main entrance to the ruins, she moved to the frame and knelt down as Milos gave her room then feeling around the frame for brush, she moved into the hall, keeping to the wall and as low as possible as she made her way into the darkness.
Harlon watched her go, carefully alert. She was a good Captain who was brave, a good fighter, honest and cared for her men so he didn’t want to loose her. She should have sent Kilon instead since he was replaceable. But it was like Sonja to risk herself which made her loved by her men but hated by the king who felt she was too valuable to risk like that.
Some minutes that seemed like hours dragged on then they heard her whistle again and made ready. Soon her form, a lighter shadow noticeable only because it moved, came forward along the wall. She wanted to present as little a target from both directions as possible then when clear, waved her men together. “The passageway goes down about forty yards then T-junctions to stairs. The left branch goes up then ends at a rockfall, the right downwards. I turned back after a hundred steps. We go down. Kilon, tell the others what we are doing and Aross, light those lanterns we brought. We need light but keep them hooded as much as possible.
Soon they moved into the darkness feeling the walls until they reached the T where they turned right and followed the stairs down. Soon, maybe a hundred steps there was a shout, a clatter and profanity as Aross tripped and fell, his voice echoing down the hall.
Sonja sighed and said, “Well, anyone here knows we are coming so unhood those lantern and let’s try to not break anything.” She stared at Aross who knew he’d be doing menial tasks for a week when this was over.
Harlon sniffed as they entered another room and asked, “That smell, what is it?”
Sonja looked down at the mess on the floor, the insects moving from the light then shone her lantern up to the ceiling that moved in the shadows like a living carpet. “Bats. Don’t disturb them or risk rabies.” She then scanned the floor and added, “Look here. Footprints in the guano. People came through here.”
As they made their way through the filth, Milos commented, “I should take a month off and mine this place. I can sell this bat-dung to the farmers and make a fortune.”
“There isn’t enough of it. Barely three inches deep. You’d be lucky to make enough to pay for a good drunk for the Company.”
“What makes you think I’d spent it on you guys? I’ll bet you wish you wore boots today.” And they continued on joking to lighten the mood until they reached another corridor. “Floor is clean. No bats. Good thing they passed through her so we can see their prints. Aross remain here and guard this room.”
“In this shit! Captain…”
“Next time then be more careful where you trip. The order stands. I don’t want our retreat cut off if we need to run.”
The remaining four mercenaries continued until Harlon commented, “More stink, but not the ammonia stink of the bat-shit.. More like… a battle field in the summer.”
Sonja nodded then whispered, “To the ready. Harlon, Milos, flank and draw, Kilon with me.” And she advanced with her spear-man at her side and the archers behind.
Harlon had seen too much death to loose his stomach but he wanted to. It was a horse. Or rather the remains of a horse, gutted, burned and left to die as it dragged itself up the corridor on broken legs pulling its entrails behind. “Someone must have been very nasty to do this.” Milos commented as Sonja glanced ahead.
“Kilon, go back and warn the others then guard the main room with Aross.”
“And us, Captain?” Harlon asked.
“We still have a job to do. We push on.” Harlon could tell she was wishing the same thing as they, a good large and thick fireproof-shield would be a good idea right about now. But their only shield was running up the corridor right now. “Lucky stiff,” Milos whispered as he checked to ensure his arrow was securely nocked.
“Captain,” Harlon asked in a very low voice, “Do you think it’s a dragon? I hate dragons. They are impossible to kill.”
“A dragon would have eaten the horse. No, this is something else, something that enjoys pain. Stay on guard. Harlon to the fore, Milos here.”
Harlon looked but frankly, he was more afraid of angering his Captain than meeting whatever was up ahead so he moved carefully until he found a good spot where he peeked around then nodded, his arrow still nocked. Sonja joined him then motioned and Milos moved past the two to a forward point to be joined by Sonja and so they advanced slowly into another room.
Sonja motioned the two to remain at the doorway as she moved inside and looked around. There was light from above but not much and as she hooded her lantern, it faded slowly. She opened the shutter, shined the light upward and the roof glowed brightly then as she shuttered her lantern, the glow faded again. “I’ve heard of moss that does this.” She propped her lantern on a broken pedestal and opened the shutter so the flame activated the moss and in the twilight of the moss, she explored, no longer hampered by the lantern’s weight.
There were a dozen alcoves along the wall, most shallow, some barred as if cells for prisoners and some with the bars ripped out as if by some monstrous giant. But a few continued on as corridors and one was large, thrice the height of a tall man and from that came the stench of sulphur. In one alcove she stopped and waved her men over and when they joined she pointed a large book and charcoal sticks. “He was here. See these sketches, look.”
The first half of the book showed drawings of the road then hills, an occasional horse or man that was obviously posed on the road (the man had little talent) then the ruins. They could recognize the ruins and the inside rooms and even the bat room with the bats poorly done then they heard a noise and went on alert again.
The think came into the main room, so huge it had to bend over to clear the opening, so red it hurt the eyes. They had images of a gigantic bull or sheep or pig walking erect. Each remembered a different image. They all remembered the stench as if it had been rolling in a vat of burning sulphur and the offal of a thousand slaughter-houses. Frozen in terror the group stood and stared as the thing stood erect and sought then with its eyes, eyes that were as tunnels that caused your gaze to fall forever without finding anything to see.
Then Sonja shook them and they heard as if from a hundred miles away, “……run.. I said run damn you!”
Suddenly awake as from a nightmare, the two turned and followed the red-head into a corridor that was too small for the thing. “Run,” she screamed leaving the men behind, not from a need to leave them but because her light byrnie didn’t slow the men as much as their heavier partial plate.
Then the corridor glowed and the ball of flame pushed the stench ahead of it. Sonja vanished and then her arms reached out to pull the two into a side-room as the fireball continued onward.
Breathing, retching and choking, the three fell to the floor, even Sonja empting her stomach at the smell. Harlon now knew how that horse managed to drag itself so far on broken legs gutted as it was. “What the hell is that?” he demanded.
“It’s a God. An Elder God.” Something chattered in the darkness. Sonja grasped her sword but knew she couldn’t lift it yet. Still,… “It’s angry because people don’t pray to it any more. Gods need prayer like we need food. I pray to it so it lets me live. Oh good, you found my sketch-book.”
The man was obviously mad and Sonja let him take the book she had forgotten to drop. He sat, opened the book and in the semi-gloom, began to sketch.
“Prince?” Sonja asked, wiping her mouth. “You’re the man we came to fetch. His majesty wants you to come home.”
For a moment sanity shone then faded. “It won’t let us go. It wants us to pray to it and if we won’t, it wants to … Hurt… us. I watched it….. Hurt…. the rest of them. We cannot leave.” Then he returned to his sketching.
Sonja motioned her men and said, “The Prince is not in his right mind at this moment. But our mission stands. We are to return him to His Majesty. We just have to get past that God. At least it’s trapped here too and cannot reach the others.”
Milos laughed, his mind on the edge until Sonja slapped him back, “It is trapped in the main Temple and we are trapped in here. It can’t get to us and we can’t get past it.” Sonja ignored him and turned back to the Prince.
“Prince Enach, can you hear me?”
“It wants us to pray to it. It wants me to sketch it. I draw what it wants and it lets me live.”
Harlon tapped his head and said, “No one home. Prince Enach the Mad has left the Castle.”
Ignoring him, Sonja tried again, “Prince Enach, do you know the floor-plan of this temple?”
He looked up and smiled. Sonja wanted to smash her fist into his mouth to prevent him from ever smiling like that again but forced her hand to unclench. “Yes I do! Look.” He began to leaf through the book, passing the sketches they had seen then past more, sketches of the God and its victims, sketches that made Sonja and her men want to burn the book and its author right there and then. Whatever lack of talent he showed in the beginning had been encouraged by the desires of the God in the next room so now Enach was a genius. Mad and monstrous was his talent but talent he now had.
‘See, here is the entrance and the main corridor that goes down to here. The room of the bats was the antechamber once but now is home for the bats. Then the Temple itself and these corridors. Those alcoves are where the old priests put his victims. Their screams called the God. Your screams will make him happy.” He actually sounded sad at this last.
Sonja traced the sketch of the Temple. It wasn’t large, mostly the main Altar Room, a few corridors that led to rooms that may be storeage or living quarters and the one big one that led to the God’s Lair. Even Harlon could see that the only way out was the way they came in.
Finally, she took her canteen and rinsed her mouth, “I wish I had brought a brush. My mouth tastes like a sewer. Ok, only one way out so that is how we leave. The thing cannot be as powerful as most gods or it wouldn’t be trapped here. If it needs prayer to live, we don’t pray and it starves, weakens. It can’t be too strong yet since the only person to worship him is the Prince here. So we have a chance. Your Highness, what’s down the big corridor?”
He looked and breathed, “Hell! It comes from Hell and it lives in Hell. It only comes to the Temple when it is called.”
“Did you call it?”
“No. There was a storm and we came down here to stay dry. One of the men cut himself on some rusted metal from a cell and swore. I suppose HE heard the pain and blood and profanity and came. He …. Hurt… them. He always… Hurts… them.”
Sonja leaned far over and shook as her byrnie fell from her body. Then in shirt and vest and pants told her men, “You too. Armor won’t stop it but it may slow us down. We’ll get more when we are free. Keep him quiet but safe.”
Sonja peeked around the corner then a moment later moved back towards the main Temple, sword in sheath. Harlon watched her pause at the entrance then look around. Finally she vanished and a moment later returned. ”I have a plan. Those gates. The god pulled them from the walls and bent them. Some are rusted and have sharp points. We carry these to the corridor and hope it steps on them as it chases us. Since it hears pain and blood…” She tore the bottom of her shirt free and whispered, “We cannot hurt His Highness for many reasons, but we have to bring him back. You two carry him but no pain or blood.”
Understanding, Harlon and Milos tore their own shirt hems into strips then they approached and quickly bound and tied the prince who resisted not a bit. Harlon thought that the man probably was one of those who paid whores to tie and beat him. But not even Milos found the man attractive now.
He only struggled when they left his sketch-book so Sonja picked it from the floor and tied it to the prince who calmed immediately.
Sonja moved ahead, Harlon even then finding the sight of her clad in shorts and vest with bare legs and midriff to be attractive. ‘Pity she doesn’t dress like that all the time’ he thought. And soon they were in the main Temple. Sonja motioned for them to wait and took Milos with her to carefully carry the worst of the grills to the entrance to its hell, laying as much hindrance as was possible.
Then the stench rose and Sonja screamed, “Run!”
Harlon and Milos ran for the exit with the Prince in tow as Sonja ran the other way. Too soon the god entered the temple but began to trip over the grills, floundering ahead until it was free of the corridor and able to stand erect. Then it began to free its legs from the bars and fling them about as if they were caltrops. Once in the smaller room, and hopefully safe, Harlon returned and began to fire arrow after arrow into the thing. God or demon or beast, it still screamed as the steel barbs penetrated its hide and Milos was also there helping.
“Get the prince to safety!” Sonja yelled as she fell from an overhead decoration, landing on the things back and driving her blade into its spine. It screamed, flung about and only a grip empowered by terror kept her clutching her handle as the thing thrashed. Finally it fell, dead and she gasped, pulled her sword free with an effort and staggered to her men. “I thought I told you to run,” she managed to gasp.
“I guess I got lost, Captain,” Harlon said as they both helped her to the door.
“You are a total fool,” she gasped then froze at the sound behind them.
You can’t kill a god with steel. She knew that somehow but then, she hadn’t met very many gods in her life. The three didn’t even look around but ran, reaching the corridor continued to run past the remains of the horse and into the bat room. The god aparantly didn’t want to loose its only worshipper in eons so instead of burning them, began to rip the walls apart. And wedged itself through and into the bat room, to find its prey already leaving amidst a confusing array of flying bats.
The god was confused by the erratic movement and swatted at the furry things which gave the four a chance to make it to the stairs and up in relative safety.
Then, once in the main entrance room, Sonja drew her sword and began to pry at the walls. “Help me!” she called. We need to seal this place.”
Milos took the prince outside as Harlon drew his own sword and assisted. The temple was shuddering but from their efforts or that of the denizen of the deeps, they didn’t know or care. Then a fireball rolled up the stairs and past to be followed by another. “It’s flaming the stairs! How long before one of those bounces up here!”
Kilon and Aross were there with spears which they used as a pry and soon a wall began to collapse. The Mercs ran and managed to get clear just as the ceiling fell. Then gasping for breath and choking from the dust, Sonja laughed, “Well, we succeeded. We got the Prince and imprisoned a god. Not bad for a day’s work.
Harlon stared than laughed too. “Captain, the Prince is free and sketching again. We should burn that hated tome.”
She looked over, coughed and said, “I agree but he won’t let it go. We’ll let him sketch and destroy it closer to home. For now I need a bath.”
Milos managed to stand, helped his companions up and added, “If we don’t, someone will publish it as ‘The Book of Prince Enach the Mad’ and create an entire religion out here. And if that happens, I want to be in Khitai before they dig that god free.”
“People are that stupid I suppose. Come, I hear the river calling for me and we need to chase down the horses that fool let run. One of them has my soap.
To contact me or to request topics to be covered, send to RikJohnson@juno.com
by: Rick Johnson
PO Box 40451
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