In nineteen eighty six or so, Satchel was spreading some gossip boys make up about the girls around town with a slur in his speech, giving it up to a korean named Linda. She was the server at a bar downtown. A guy who knew the two walked in holding a half empty Bud yelling, “Chug motherfucker!” and tapped the open bottle on the table with the bottom of his. Linda. She was crazy. She let the two get into all kinds of shit, mainly because she had a heavy accent and sometimes for money but almost always because she was just one crazy chic who liked how guys would show up in time to make things interesting. That’s when stories were easy, Satchel made friends and that other guy was still alive.