- 28 -
- 28 -I may have had a stress-induced headache, but then again, it may have been the unrelenting blare of the recorded music pounding in my head. The band had not yet started, and some God-awful recorded stuff boomed over the loudspeakers. Somehow, this wretched noise inspired partygoers to form a conga line and proceed to do laps around the gym floor. Leading the serpentine was Bucky Tanner wearing a crude-looking outfit of animal skins, including a pair of antlers lashed to his head. A flimsy cardboard and aluminum foil spear hung from a rope belt around his waist. I suspected that the skins were the spoils of his game processing industry and originally intended as igloo embellishment.
“He thinks he’s Nimrod,” said his wife. “I told him he just looks like a fool. He’s going to g
