The somewhat crazed Alfie is banging away on a mechanical keyboard, trying to get it all down before things blur together. I can relate to that, sort of like the way I relate to Fast Eddie’s bullshit about our era ending. Things are started to blur, and times are certainly changing. Soon, people who weren’t THERE aren’t even going to believe we lived in a world in which things could happen the way they did. Alfie is not batshit insane like Fast Eddie, but he never spent time in a Dominican prison for stabbing someone like Fast Eddie did. Or perhaps Alfie is just as crazy as Fast Eddie; I’ve never met the dude. He is part of the network of loons on the internet I have been running with now that the Jackalopes are gone. I can tell Alfie has been to the edge though (or at least to the liquor store many times), and that is all that really matters.
Yes, the Jackalopes have disappeared — we only exchange Christmas cards these days, although I am the only one who seems to remember to send the fucking cards anymore because I am filled with the holiday spirit. HO! HO! HO! — that’s me. Sir Jolters might even be dead; I haven’t heard from him in years. Up until last summer, he drafted in our fantasy leagues and paid his fees, but he never cleared his fees this past summer, which is very un-Sir Jolters like.
Mrs. Bads tells me I just need to let the Jackalopes rest, that no one cares about a bunch of drunks trying to recapture their youth during the Cactus League, but deep down she knows the Jackalopes were more than that. She is just afraid of upheaval that might come from just mentioning their names.