It's not surprising when the local sheriff speeds up to Libertatia on his wave-rider; it's just to chat and help out with the failing generator. He's glad the punks have shown up in June instead of July, when they are more likely to pass out from heat stroke. Culhane and Applemaggot (in an "All Cops Are Bastards" T-shirt and on several illegal hallucinogens) sit on the sheriff's wave-rider and pose for photos. The sheriff smiles but does not fulfill their wish to be arrested for a free ride.
More bands play. One of them is named as the spoilers of the treasure. They are put on trial by their peers. Sadly, justice cannot be served since their attorney is stinking drunk. They are thrown in the lake.
"Kangaroo court," says Mink with an air of mock disappointment. He announces the evening's late-night entertainment. Some-one returns my last cigarette, left lying by a tree. Someone else passes around a bottle of tequila.
Lazy, beer-filled days roll into lazy, beer-filled nights, and so on ....
Send comments, quips, and tips to crawler@sfweekly.com.
By Silke Tudor
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