Originally Posted by
stuckathuntermtn
Late March. 2020.
In the old Missoula, most people shutter themselves in, afraid to go out. If the virus doesn't get you, the rival gangs roaming the mountainsides in search of TP or hand sanitizer might. Time has become a blur, so I'm not exactly sure what day it is, just that it's light out and snowing a little.
Eat. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Nobody remembers exactly how it started: Maybe it was China. Maybe someone in Denver touched their face. It no longer matters.
There are rumors a place called Costco might be getting shipments of items to keep your hands or butthole clean. A journey may have to be made. Oddly, there is still enough gasoline.
Some are saying a certain "President Trump" wants to open the country up again by Easter. Whenever that is. All I know is, there's no way there is a shady real-estate-developer-turned-reality-TV-star as president. These rumors must be unfounded. There's a lot of that going around.
An old rancher-type guy, back bent from a life of hard labor, a stranger in these parts, said to me at the local scavenger shop "I think I'm lost." We all are, fella. We all are.