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From: Willy Tamarack <willytamarack@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack" 6/30 {Willy Tamarack} (MF)
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Date: Mon, 27 Jul 2015 07:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Tamarack06.txt" begin>

Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack - he has Risen
Part: 6 of 30
Universe:
Summary:
Keywords: (MF)
Language: English


***************************************************************************

   @(C) 1996-2015 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the
written permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds
goes to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   !!!!!  ATTENTION !!!!!

   Before we get going here, several notes.  The following is a sex story.
A stroke story.  A porno story.  The content is unsuitable for youngsters
and some adults may find it objectionable.  I've ensured my material is
properly coded and registered.  Adults, who have custodial responsibility
for young minds, must ensure this smut doesn't fall into their children's
hands.  To charge the government with that responsibility.  Wow !  Don't
get me started.

   All my stories are total fantasy.  They are fiction, made up.  MSU (made
shit up).  I started this effort in several forms before deciding on "The
Chronicles" for a direction.  Yes !  I'm raising Willy from the dead ! 
That's what soap operas are all about !  And if anything, I'm a soap
writer. And today's the day !  He's back !  Willy Tamarack surfaces.  And
with in just several days escapes from his incarciration.

   And while the plot and subplots of the following tale stem from the
author's fertile imagination...The characters...Well, the characters are
also total fantasy.  They don't exist, never have and never will.  Any
public figures mentioned are for background and time line purposes only.

   Remember now...Sex should be fun !  As always e-mail your comments to
the usual.

   The Chronicles of

   Willy Tamarack

   he has Risen

   (MF)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Sixteen

   Camarillo State Mental Hospital

   Still December 2009

   Juanita Hernandez, dressed in her red uniform top with black slacks,
just entered the employee break room, a combination dressing room and
restroom.  She entered from the restroom.  She had already clocked in and
was taking her time putting her backpack into her locker.  It was eighteen
hundred hours and already dark outside.

   Damaron Wilson, dressed in his security uniform, pushed into the room
from the hallway.  Juanita turned and smiled as he moved across the room
toward her locker.  He had his hand in his pocket.  Juanita had the money
in her hand.  The baggie was coming out of his pocket to be replaced by the
money.  The exchange filled the room with the very pugent fragrance of
marijuana.

   Damaron gave Juanita's ass a good squeeze.  "You want to get high later,
about eleven or so ?"

   "That all you wanna do, Damarrron ?" She dragged out his name.  She was
pushing her butt back against his hand as it gropped her ass.  Damaron
rubbed his crotch against her as he pinned her against the lockers.  She
laughed loudly.  Damaron moved away from her just as the door from the
hallway opened.

   Ryan Anthony, another "red coat" orderly, was peering into the employee
dressing room from the hallway.  The patient, with Ryan, was peering into
the room also.  Juanita rushed past Damaron and through the doorway.  The
fragrance of marijuana was flowing out into the hallway behind her.  The
patient's head turned to follow the Hispanic woman.

   It was like I woke, recognizing the fragrance.  It reminded me of better
times.  I couldn't quite remember when those were but I immediately knew
they were not in here.  They were out there some where.  The fragrance
followed the woman down the hall.  I turned and followed the woman.

   Damaron rushed out of the break room, pushing by Ryan on the way to his
security station up by the entrance to the facility.  Ryan looked around to
find his patient.

   "Willy...What're you doing, man !?  Come back here."

   I recognized my name but kept walking, following the Hispanic woman down
the hall.

   Ryan trotted to catch up to his patient and detained him as he entered
the hallway intersection.  Immediately the orderly took the patient back to
his room.  The door was closed and locked.

   I sat on my bed, laid back and stared at the ceiling.  My roommate was
sitting in his wheel chair, staring at me.  Nothing new.  We'd been
roommates for as long as I could remember.  Neither of us had spoken to
each other during that time.  Or if we had ?  I couldn't remember what was
said.

   All I knew was that my roommate was wheeled to the common room every day
for a couple of hours and parked in the sun light, like a potted plant.  He
was taken to and from his meals by the "red coats."

   On the other hand, I was allowed to walk around the garden in the center
of the complex without supervision.  I was also allowed to walk to and from
meals in the cafeteria.  Dinner was over and the two of us wouldn't
ordinarily see an orderly or nurse until morning.

   For the first time in how long ?  I couldn't remember.  I recognized a
name.  It was my name, Willy.  I knew I was Willy.  Before it had been like
a foreign language.  I'd anticipated what they wanted and when they spoke I
did something, usually followed them, or sat down.  I walked to the
cafeteria because I was hungry and it was that time of day.  But today I
heard my name and actually understood what the "red coat" wanted me to do.

   And even better I'd seen the door through which the Mexican "red coat"
woman had gone.  I knew most doors in the hallways remained unlocked
because I'd played with them going to and from meals.  Tomorrow I planned
on investigating the room behind that door and also try to get into the
employee break room.

   That I was being held against my will was obvious.  I was only allowed
to wander in certain areas and all of them were heavily staffed.  I would
need to get some intel on what was outside ?  Where was I ?  I tried to
remember the last place I'd been.  I fell asleep trying to remember where
I'd been before here.

   *****

   It was after lunch.  I was walking in the garden.  Every few minutes a
"red coat" would either wheel a patient out into the sun or back into the
shade.  There was always two of them out in the garden keeping an eye on
the patients.

   I wondered why I was here ?  I had a lot of questions and not many
answers.  It was coming up on three o'clock.  I was going to attempt entry
to the employee break room today.

   I timed my walk to put me at the front entrance at exactly ten minutes
after three.  I noticed the front security entrance was always busy at that
time every day.  I turned right at the next hallway intersection.  There
were several "red coats" down the hall but they were quite a distance away.

   I didn't even pause at the door but burst right into the room.  It was
empty.  I checked the restroom, even looked under the stall door.  I was at
the lockers, inspecting.  Most had locks.  I could smell the fragrance at
the Mexican "red coat" woman's locker.  It was overwhelming at the black
security officer's locker.  That locker door had a sturdy lock on it.  I
turned and left the room immediately.

   *****

   That night...I was proweling the hallways.  It was after midnight.  I'd
taped the locking device on my room door with some tape I ripped off from
the nursing station.  Those nurses must learn to be more attentive and not
leave tape dispensers lying on counter tops.  The door was easier to tape
than I figured and I had plenty left for future escapes.

   I looked both ways before sliding out into the hallway intersection and
darting into the Mexican woman's office.  It was dark inside.  I felt my
way to the desk.  I could smell it.  I was down on my knees, pulling the
drawer open.  I could feel her purse.

   The sound of foot steps from outside freaked me out.  I fell to my belly
and slithered under the desk and behind a file cabinet.  The door opened
and light flooded the floor.  More foot steps and they were close.  A desk
lamp came on.  The door was closing.  Now it was opened again.

   "There you are." It was the black security guard.  He had to be coming
to see the Mexican "red coat" woman.  Up to no good, I was sure.  I stayed
where I was on the floor.

   "You got me some good stuff this time, Damaron.  My old man really liked
it.  Wanted to know who I got it from ?" She was teasing him, I could tell
by the tone of her voice.

   "Oooouuu, Damaron !" Juanita squealed.  Damaron was grunting and I could
imagine him grinding up against the willing Mexican "red coat" woman.  "You
sure we won't get caught." She continued.  I could hear the sound of a
zipper being lowered and by the length I figured a fly.  Now the pants hit
the floor.

   The sound of fucking was not far off.  Juanita's skirt came up around
her waist and Damaron yanked her panty hose down around her big, round
brown butt.  Seconds later his hard, black cock was plowing in and out of
her as she bent over the desk.

   I slithered forward, could hear them fucking.  It was exciting me.  My
concentration wavered.  I took a deep breath and moved forward just a bit.
I thrust my hand into the pant's pocket that was but a foot away.  Keys ! I
carefully fished them out of the pocket and wrapped them in my hand before
slithering back behind the file cabinet.

   The fucking continued.  Juanita was moaning and groaning as Damaron
pounded his dick in and out of her.  He loved fucking the married ones.  He
was fucking another one who worked up on the forth floor.  Wouldn't see her
until he rested up.  He kept sliding his hard cock in and out of the woman
bent before him.  It was another five or six minutes before he blew his
orgasm into her belly.  She was still moaning and groaning.

   I could hear them getting their clothes back together.  The security
guard whispered, "See you tomorrow night, Jaunita ?" She mumbled something
but I couldn't make it out.  The keys were buring my hand.  The security
guard could notice they were gone any second now.  The Mexican "red coat"
woman finally left her office.  I counted to thirty.

   Chapter Seventeen

   The orderly was standing at the nursing station.  The movement caught
his attention.  He looked down the hall.  Another orderly ?  He left the
station and moved toward where the figure disappeared, his mind trying to
remember if it was wearing red.  The orderly pushed off and started
trotting.

   I started running full out after turning the corner.  I was sure the guy
saw me and even more damning, I wasn't wearing a "red coat." I should have
stolen one when I was in the employee break room.  I slowed then stopped at
my door, carefully pulling the door open.  The tape pulled away easily and
I was in the room, the door clicking closed and locked.

   The orderly was winded at the hallway intersection.  He though he saw a
door closing but wasn't sure how far down...He just wasn't sure.  The hall
was empty of personnel.  He must have imagined it.  He turned and headed
back to the nursing station.

   I was still panting.  I was trying to hear above the noise I was making
just breathing.  After three full minutes of counting I was sure that no
one had pulled on the door to check on it's security.  They all did it the
same way, a quick tug to see that the lock was engaged.  My breathing was
returning to normal.  I was way out of shape.  I'd have to work on that.

   I kept moving thoughts and ideas around in my head.  Things I'd have to
know to make any attempt at escape.  The list was long.  I had started it
the other evening when I came to realize I was "Willy," thinking about
anything but what I had in my hands.  I had to avoid it.  I knew what it
was !  The fragrance was coming up from under my sheet and blanket.  It was
getting harder to avoid.

   In my hands was a sandwich bag containing exactly one eighth ounce of
marijuana.  I had not inspected it but I knew.  The weight was right.  I
had wrapped an eighth of an ounce that way too many times to count.  But
that was a long time ago.  I recalled making a lot of money doing it.

   I had stolen the baggie after stealing the security guard's keys and
then using them to get into his locker.  The baggies were in a briefcase
that was not locked.  Lax security like that will fuck you every time. 
There was some money and twelve baggies of weed.  An ounce and a
half...Small time.  I remembered having boxes and boxes of them, moving
boxes filled with exactly twenty five pounds...Thirty-two hundred baggies.
I was staring at them in the dim light of the employee break room.

   Then the rush to leave, locking the security guard's locker and placing
his keys on the floor half under the locker.  I wanted to run with my
treasure but instead walked down the middle of the hallways on the way back
to my room.  I squeezed my prize.  I would have to hide it before morning.

   I was up early and ready to leave the room when they took my roommate to
breakfast.  I hurried to the cafeteria.  The thought came to me at
breakfast.  They must have a records section !  My next evening foray would
be to discover and surveil.  But now I needed a way to smoke my treasure.
The cafeteria workers were very casual with their packs of cigaretts and
lighters.  After three trips through the line to get more bacon, I had
snaked three cigaretts and one lighter.

   I wandered around on the way back to my room, taking routes that I'd
never taken before.  I steered clear of the front security desk as those
assholes often gave me shit for just walking by.  And there, tucked away
behind the gymnasium, was the "Records Office." I opened the door and
looked in.  I had an excuse in mind but didn't have to use it.  The room
was empty and lined with a number of file cabinets.  There was a desk in
the far corner and a door to another room.  I closed the door, backed away
and quickly retraced my steps.

   Twenty minutes later I was back in my room, in the bathroom.  The door
was locked and I had removed the filters from my three cigaretts.  I
carefully poked, prodded and pulled at the tobacco until the remaining
paper cylinders were empty.  Next I packed as much of the marijuana as I
could into the paper cylinders.  I used tooth picks from the cafeteria to
assist me.  I carefully rolled the ends and packed both the joints and
lighter into the baggie with the remaining weed.

   I was worried about the fragrance the weed would throw off.  And for the
first time I started to worry about my roommate.  I carefully secreted my
treasure in the springs under my matress, wrapped in a dry wash cloth.  The
best I could do.  My roommate seemed oblivious to my activities.

   *****

   "Red coat" Ryan Anthony was on duty in the garden.  Several times in the
last ten minutes he had smelled marijuana.  He looked around.  Several
patients and staff members were smoking.  He was positive one of them was
smoking marijuana and was stealthly walking through the middle of the
garden.  He smelled it again.  He picked up his pace.

   I was wandering through the east side of the garden.  I had started
doubling the distance I walked every day.  And today I was smoking one of
my treasured joints.  The first one !  I had sight of the two "red coats"
most of the time.  There were only a couple of places where they were both
shielded from me.  That's where I torched up.  I'd get two drags and then
stuff it out, holding that second hit deep in my lungs.  The smoke was
coarse; nothing like the smooth smoke I remembered from the past.

   I was starting to take off.  I'd smoked eight hits off the joint and
still had a quarter inch left.  I took a kleenex out of my pocket, wrapped
the roach and pushed the kleenex into my pocket.  I really started to power
walk now and could feel the euphoria radiate from within myself.

   One of the "red coats" was just ahead.  I slowed my pace and noted that
the "red coat" paid little if any attention to me as I passed by.  Ten
minutes later I was in my room and lying on my bed, flying like a kite.  My
roommate was gone, who knows where ?

   My mind was starting to open up, my brain streaming memories.  They were
all too short to make much sense of.  But most of the streaming video
rushing through my consciousness was littered with naked women.  I couldn't
make out the faces in most instances and when I could, they were
meaningless.  Still the naked women had an effect.  I was getting a boner.
I couldn't remember getting one before.  I felt my penis.  It was warm and
very hard.  It felt good to touch my dick.

   I fell in and out of consciousness for the rest of the afternoon and
only woke when my roommate was wheeled into the room after the evening
meal. I wandered down to the cafeteria and ate like I was starved.  I had
three scoops of vanilla ice cream for desert.  I went back to my room and
slept until midnight.

   *****

   I was sitting at the desk in the records office.  I'd turned on the desk
lamp and was going through the drawers.  There was some stationary. 
"California State Mental Hospital, Camarillo, California" was printed at
the top of the stationary.  I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. 
Camarillo was vaguely familiar.

   My childhood crept into my consciousness.  It came to me suddenly. 
Camarillo was up by Oxnard and Ventura.  I could remember the neighbor boys
driving up there in the winter for good waves.  I went with them, a young
gremi.  It was cold.  We wore wet suits way back then in the late fifties
and early sixties.  I knew where I was.  A flush of success flooded over
me. I searched other drawers and found a road map.  I stuffed it into the
"red coat" I was wearing.  I'd swiped it from the employee's break room.

   I started in the file cabinets on the near wall.  They were all full of
shit I didn't understand but they certainly weren't patient records. 
Another flush of success was rushing through me as I hit pay dirt across
the room.  I started at the "A"s.  There were a lot of files.

   There it was !  Tamarack, William Buffalo.  It just jumped out at me. 
That and the military ID picture that was staring back at me.  I removed
the folder and stuffed it inside my "red coat." There was nothing else of
interest in the office so I left and walked casualy back to my room.  I saw
not one "red coat" during my trip.

   My roommate had not moved since I left and was still staring at the
opposite wall when I entered the room.  I jumped up on my bed, turned on my
bed lamp and begn reading.  A whole bunch of biographical data covered the
first two pages.  I learned that my parents both died in 2008.  I crossed
myself.  I discovered I had four wives.  One, along with two sons, died in
an automobile accident back in 1989 in Southern California.  One died in an
explosion in 2002 in Clark County, Nevada.  One was living in Mazatlan,
Mexico with another son.  The last one's where abouts were unknown and had
been since I was detained in January 2005.

   I looked at the desk calendar.  If it was correct ?  It was two thousand
nine.  Fuck !  Almost five years !  That's a long fucking time and I
couldn't remember a fucking thing about it.  I still couldn't catch a break
on where I was before "California State Mental Hospital, Camarillo,
California."

   There was an official looking report behind the biographical data.  It
detailed the tracking and capture of a man who had been living in some
caves along the Palos Verdes cliffs.  This was in January 2005.  It was
believed that he'd been living there for several months.  It took a team of
several navy seals over two weeks to corner him and finally capture him off
shore swimming for the horizon.  He was air lifted to Pendleton and
identified within twenty-four hours.  Former military, fighter pilot,
exemplary record, two tours in 'Nam.  Retired in the late eighties. 
Nothing in any national data banks, very unusual in these times.  No known
employment since the late eighties, another red flag.

   The man, named William Buffalo Tamarack, would speak nothing but Spanish
and claimed to be a world renown marijuana grower who was trying to sneak
into the country illegaly.  When confronted with the fact that it was
illegal to grow marijuana all over the world, he countered with, "That's
what makes me so good.  I've never been caught.  And my weed is so, so
good. One hit and you're on the way to the heavens." In Spanish, no less.

   His inquisitors countered with, "You're caught now."

   Willy Tamarack looked around and asked, "Where's the weed ?"

   Interrogation continued on and off for several days but Tamarack would
speak no English and would talk about nothing except, what he called, the
art of growing marijuana.  The DEA was notified after the military was
finished with him.  The DEA would be only too happy to send Agent Wayne
Montana to interrogate a Mister Willy Tamarack.  Agent Montana was on the
next flight to the west coast.  The moment Agent Montana walked into the
interrogation room, Tamarack stopped talking.

   A day later someone in the CIA called Pendleton and informed them they
were faxing orders to prevent the DEA from interrogating a Mister William
Buffalo Tamarack.  A day too late and after three weeks of not talking,
William Buffalo Tamarack was sent to Camarillo for observation.

   The last two pages were comments on my progress while at "California
State Mental Hospital, Camarillo, California." My last evaluation was three
months ago and reported no progress.  "Patient Tamarack" could bla bla bla.
I got tired reading and hid the file at the foot of the bed, under the
bottom sheet.  My roommate was still staring at the wall across the room. I
turned off the light and went to sleep.

   Chapter Eighteen

   I devised a daring plan to escape from the California State Mental
Hospital.  It was not simple and required a lot of luck.  But my quest for
freedom pushed me forward.  The bold would not be expected, increasing my
chances for success.  I worked on my escape every day, refining my skills
and working on my stamina.

   After several nights of surveilance, I discovered that the security
officer was fucking the "red coat" hispanic woman quite regularly.  The
escape would have to be at night as the staff level at night was very much
reduced from the day time.  I had my gear assembled.  Every day I pushed
myself in the garden, walking what I figured had to be three or four miles
a day.  The longer I waited the more chance they had to discover my plans.

   The sun was shinning brightly in the garden.  I was power walking.  It
was almost like a trot.  Both the "red coats" had warned me about my speed,
telling me to slow down.  It was funny watching them try to cut me off and
corner me without running.  I was just paces from the entrance to the
building.  There was a "red coat" about twenty meters behind me.

   I rushed through the door, turned at the first hallway and entered the
"red coat" Hispanic women's office.  It was much too early for her to be
here.  I ducked under the desk and counted for five minutes.  I exited the
office and immediately retraced my route and then headed down by the
secuity entrance.

   "Hey you !  Ryan's looking for you." I didn't even acknowledge the guard
and continued on to my room.  I lay on my bed.  Tonight's the night !  I
took a couple of deep breaths and was asleep.  I was smiling and snoring
softly.  The song was playing in my head.

   *****

   I was hidden in the "red coat" Hispanic women's office.  It was just
after eleven when she entered her office.  The security guard was just
seconds behind her.  She didn't even turn on the desk lamp and was waiting
for him.

   The door opened.  "Oh !  Officer, I need some help here." He chuckled a
bit and then asked her.

   "Will this help ?"

   "Oh !  It's so big."

   I bit my tongue as this went on for a moment or so.  They were by the
desk again and the security officer's pants were already pooled around his
feet.  She was on her knees, sucking his cock.  I noticed that she was
doing a very good job as I moved, really slithered, around the desk,
getting my hand into the guard's pocket and wrapping my hand around the
keys before pulling them out.  I was back behind the desk and knew it would
be a while.  I closed my eyes and rested.

   *****

   The first indication of trouble came when several hallways, that
branched off from the main entrance, went dark.  The guard at the front
entrance noticed immediately.  His partner was in the restroom down one of
the dark hallways.  He could hear him yelling.

   One thing he knew.  He couldn't leave his post.  But his partner was
still yelling.  He could hardly make it out but the noise.  Something about
toilet paper.  The guard knew the security chief was still in the building.
He was usually fucking that Mexican "red coat" about this time.  He was
sure to be here in just a few moments as the woman's office was also down
one of the dark hallways.

   The guard got up and moved around the barrier.  He looked back at the
entrance and the brightly lit hallways in that direction.  They were clear.
He headed down the dark hallway where his partner was stuck without toilet
paper.  His partner was still yelling.  He looked back at the entrance.  It
appeared the security chief was going through the entrance and out into the
night.  The figure yelled back as the door closed.

   "Fuse box out..." The door closed.  The guard didn't hear clearly as his
partner was still yelling.  So he rushed back to the entrance but the
figure had disappeared into the night.

   It was forty-five minutes before the security chief returned to the
front entrance security area.  He'd been doing rounds on the forth floor
and had no idea they'd lost power downstairs.  By then patient Willy
Tamarack was pulling out of a covienence store in Oxnard on the way to Port
Hueneme.  He'd picked up a case of water and a cheap wrist watch.

   The clerk thought it was strange.  He'd never seen a white guy in black
face and in a police uniform, to boot !  But it was five days before anyone
came to question him.

   *****

   I walked through the parking lot with all of my supplies stacked up on
the case of water.  I could just see over the top with the security cap on.
What luck, a guy was coming out of the dark and into the light of the gate.

   The retired fire chief was just letting himself out of the marina.  He'd
stayed late.  He usually did since his wife passed away.  He noticed the
man walking toward the gate with an arm full of supplies.  He was dressed
in a uniform.  Police ?  Maybe ?  Might be a security guard ?  It was dark
out.  He held the gate for the man in the uniform.  The guy mumbled his
thanks as he passed through the gate.

   The chief was suspicious until the guy put his supplies down and turned
around.  The chief didn't want to appear like he was spying on the guy.

   "You want me to hold the gate for a bit ?" The chief called to him.  The
guy was standing just outside the halo of light surrounding the gate.  The
retired chief was right, he was black.

   "Nah.  I'll be out at first light.  Good feeding time." The black guy
turned and almost disappeared into the dark.  The retired chief closed the
gate and thought nothing about it until he was questioned six days later.

   I walked with a purpose.  There were only a couple of types, really
sizes of sail boats that I'd be able to handle.  And then I might have to
rig it.  I spied several boats with sails already rigged.  I broke into a
trot only stopping to walk again when I neared them.

   I spent only a minute or so before turning and running back to my
supplies.  Five minutes later I was back and lowering my supplies to the
dock right next to this sixteen foot sail boat.  All I had to do is raise
the sails and cast off.  I looked around before I started loading my
supplies.  I got aboard, raised the sails, tested the rudder and pulled on
the rigging here and there while watching how the sails reacted.

   I jumped up on to the dock and cast off, pushing the boat to the end of
the dock.  I stepped in and pushed off.  The boat was rocking.  I almost
fell, using my hand against the railing.  I sat, the boat was still
rocking. I got the rudder moving back and forth and the boat started to
move away from the dock.

   I was very happy with the speed of the boat and steered to catch the
light breeze with the main sail.  I let the sail out a little further and
felt the boat start moving with the wind.  My heart was beating like a
machine gun going off.  I steered to get more wind into the main sail.  I
made a course correction as I sailed out into the main channel to the
ocean.

   For the first time I relaxed.  At this speed it would be a while before
I'd reach the ocean.  I tacked to the west side of the channel.  It was
slow going but kept my mind alert and kept my body moving.  The briefcase
was laying at my feet on a pile of towels that I ripped off from a linen
closet.  I'd broken the locking mechanism back in the car with a screw
driver that I found in the trunk.  This was before I sunk the security
officer's car at the boat ramp.  I didn't even look into the briefcase.  It
was cargo.  If I got lucky, I got lucky.

   There lying in the case was an automatic weapon with a clip of amunition
lying next to four baggies of marijuana.  A large stack of money was
wrapped in a red rubber band.  I used a finger to stir the contents of the
case to be sure there was nothing hidding.  I closed the case and went back
to sailing.  I had been exceedingly lucky.  Many of you will remember:
better lucky than good any day.

   An hour and a half later I sailed out into the open ocean and changed
course again.  I wanted to stay close to the shore.  The wind had picked up
substantially and I was really moving through ocean swells.  I was taking a
little water but I expected that.  I figured it was fifty, sixy some miles
to my destination...The Palos Verdes Peninsula.  Hey !  I was using a road
map and the whiskey compass I removed from the security officer's car. 
Less than a day away.

   [continued in]

   "The Chronicles of Willy Tamarack"

   Part Seven
   "A Stupid Mistake" 

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