By Congie

Day 1

"The Viking helmets are a bit much" I say as the escort ushers me through the Stockholm airport.

"All Equinic delegates must pay homage to Sweden before we turn the torch over."

I am thankful Roys decided to stay back in the Captain's lounge while I went to fetch the torch. She definitely wouldn't want to be subjected to the Viking outfit. As we all piled into the Volvo limo, I was asked if I had brought camping gear with me.

"No," I responded and was informed that a long hike might be required to reach the torch. I could see this might be a long afternoon. After driving for what seemed like hours, my chauffeur pulled off onto a dirt road that ran smack into the middle of a stand of trees.

"We get out here" one of my escorts advised me. As we all waited besides the car, I asked my companion why we stopped here.

"The torch is being held for you in the middle of the woods."

"What?" I ask incredulously. "I thought we were picking the torch up at the the racetrack."

"We didn't feel that showed enough respect to the mythological beginnings of the Equinics. Don't worry the walk is only just over 4 miles."

Stumbling through the woods, I could feel the rough pine needles scraping the bare skin of my arms. Sap from broken branches coated my hands as I pushed the limbs away from my face.

After a long hike into the woods, I could see a distinctive flicker in the distance as the sound of drums pounded in my ears. "We are almost here now" I was told.

Slowly the trees began to thin and I could begin to make out the flickerings of the torch. Standing in a ring with their hands clasped was the Swedish delegation. My viking horned helmet cast a shadow over my face as the torch illuminated the area.

"I come to carry the Equinic flame to California where it will begin its trip across the United States," I say.

"We in Sweden are honored to have carried the torch, and question the strength and fortitude that you surfers from California have. As a result, we want to initiate you into the true way of Nordic life. Please come forward and pound on the drum twice with your right hand. After the ceremonial blowing of a Viking horn we will depart the clearing. Once we have left, it will be your responsibility to find transportation back to the airport."

"It's nearly dark," I say. "How will I find my way back?"

"True norsemen always know their surroundings. It is what made us such great explorers. If it is your fate, you will return safely. Just remember that scared reindeer can be dangerous, so be careful."

The Swedes blow on the ceremonial horn and place the torch in my left hand as I strike the drum twice with my right hand.

"It is time for you to go," the leader tells me as they depart the clearing in all directions. With only the torch to guide me, each break in the trees looks the same and I have no idea which path leads me back to the road. All of a sudden, I hear a crackle behind me. I wheel around afraid to see what might be approaching, but who do I see, but......

By Roys

Day 2

.... the rest of the California Gold delegation coming through the trees. "We were worried about your safety," said Whirlwind. "Yeah those crazy Swedes are apt to do anything!" said Socal, and besides we knew you couldn't speak the language. "Never should have let you go alone" said Unbridled. Bird and Ferdinand didn't dare say anything as they were fighting hard not to burst out laughing. When Ferdinand started to snicker and then gasp and snort, Bird lost it and soon the two of them were rolling on the ground laughing like a couple of hyenas. "Whatever is the matter with you two?" asked Unbridled, but the corners of his mouth were starting to twitch too. "I think it's the Viking helmet," Whirlwind said with a not too straight face, and then he too joined in laughing with the rest of us. Only Socal was busy - seems he had the presence of mind to bring a camera and he was burning up the film. "For posterity," he told us. Right!

Poor Congie, he stood there wearing that ridiculous helmet, the burning torch in his left hand and looked like some sort of Norse deity about to lay some sort of wisdom on his, unable to quit laughing, subjects. With Socal snapping pictures faster than a tourist, I finally caught my breath and said, "My, but that helmet, it makes you look so, so …so Viking!" That sent the rest off into gales of laughter again. Congie was up to the challenge and without cracking a smile, drew himself up to his full height, helmet and all, looked down his nose at us, and said - "it's the latest in Viking wear, I'll have you heathens know!" Now, do you have a plan for getting us back to the airport or are you going to continue rolling around on the ground? And by the way, how did you find me?" he asked. We all looked at Socal, who said; "Those Jacobsson brothers brought me out here once when they helped Matt and I out at Kentuckiana. Once I saw the direction you were going, we got the horses and followed you here. Those Volvo's don't go very fast over the rough roads and I knew they didn't have enough imagination to find a new location. All we have to do to get back is follow the trail of breadcrumbs that Ferdinand left along the way. Provided the birds didn't eat it," he said, and with that they all looked at me! Hmmmph, they all think they are so funny!

Well, the crumbs were still there and with the light from the torch, we were able to follow them back to the airport. It was a good thing we brought the horses as it would have been a long walk. The Swedish airport is confusing to say the least - it was a good thing that Socalslew could speak Swedish - well at least he could repeat what they said, which used to amuse Sabbath and Kronprinse immensely, even if the accent was not quite up to par. Personally I thought he was doing a great job and he did get us out to the runway where the pilot and plane were waiting for us. We thought we had better get loaded before the sun came up as we had a long flight ahead of us. So with no further problems we got the torch and the horses loaded onto a rather smallish plane. In fact it barely held the horses, the torch, and all of us, which made me wonder, just where Socal had rented it. He was in charge of the travel arrangements, as he knows everyone that counts in California. I am sure he got us a good deal but it certainly didn't look like my idea of a transcontinental airplane. But then what do I know.

Ferdinand was even more nervous than I was, and I hate to fly, and as we settled into our seats she started in on the questions. Only thing was, she was asking the wrong person. "Who is the pilot?" she asked me. "I don't know, I think he came with the plane." I said. "This is a different plane and pilot than we came over with," she said. "I know, but that plane had a problem and the pilot went to Amsterdam on a quick trip with Whirlwind and never came back." Well where did this plane come from?" she asked. "Socal called the rental place and they sent it and the pilot this morning." I said. "Well, do you think it is safe?" she asked. "I am sure it is," I answered, "Socal is aboard and he doesn't look worried." "Well, I am nervous," she said looking around. Of course that's all it took to make me look around also, but things looked pretty normal to me. Whirlwind was up front talking to the pilot and Unbridled, Congie and Socal were grouped in the back playing Chutes and Ladders, which must have been left on board from the previous plane renters. Congie was even still wearing his Viking helmet. The horses were all tucked in their crates for the long flight back to California and seemed happy munching on California grass. The engines sounded normal and as we taxied out to the runway I took a moment to look at the Equinic torch in it's special container that Unbridled had designed. It would keep it from going out and yet not endanger anyone on the plane with fire. That torch had certainly had some adventures in the past few weeks.

It wasn't long before we were airborne and with a drink in hand I left Ferdinand and wandered over to see how the board game was progressing. I wasn't entirely sure, but it looked to me like Congie was way ahead. Maybe that helmet was lucky. I told him he ought to wear it to the racetrack and maybe he would get rich! Jeeze, did I get a rotten look. I then went up front and visited with Whirlwind and the pilot who was introduced to me as Patrick, and I must say, I am sure I have seen him somewhere…. he seemed very familiar! I did notice they he had a brownbag next to him but thought nothing of it at the time.

Convinced all was well, I went back and settled back in my seat, and opened my book thinking I could get some reading in on the long flight. Ferdinand was busy peering out the window as we were flying over the North Pole on our way home. Maybe she was looking for Davarto, although I think he might have been at the other Pole. So far the trip was uneventful but that was soon to change.

I must have dozed off because when I checked the time, several hours had passed. The sun was up but almost everyone was asleep, including Congie, still in his helmet. We really had had an eventful night in Sweden, but now we were on our way home and everyone had relaxed. I decided to go up front and visit with Patrick the pilot and see where we were. I asked how things were going and he said we were right on course and had just passed over Alaska. We were in Canadian airspace and would soon be over Washington State. It sounded good to me and as we talked some more I kept thinking I knew this man. "You look so familiar," I said. "Have you ever been in the movies?" He didn't answer, but took a drink from the brownbag he had with him. "It's just Pepto Bismal," he said when he noticed my disapproving look. "My stomach 's been acting up recently when I fly - nerves I guess." Oh great, an airsick pilot, I thought. It was about then I remembered a newscast from a few weeks ago when a well-known movie star had lost his way flying from California to New Mexico and ended up in a field outside Prescott, Arizona. Hmmmm? Socal wouldn't have gone to the actor's guild to find us a pilot - would he? Like I said he knows everyone and I know he likes to find those good deals and this pilot might have needed some quick cash - like maybe to fix his airplane? 

It was just about then that the plane ...

By Whirlwind

Day 3-6

... landed in some forsaken airport with one runway and no skycaps.  Everyone else seemed to be just fine, and started to unload the horses, and they gave me the torch to keep an eye on.  While I was just standing around with this flaming torch, I figured I would check my messages and see what was happening while we were in Sweden.  I’ll say one thing for those guys, even though they wear animal skin skirts and wear goofy helmets and wave around big swords, they sure put congie on with that woods stuff, but they can party down with the best of them. They had some fine mead to quaff and some wild, tall, blonde, viking chicks to leer at, but that is a whole other story. 

Only two messages, Ts calling and yelling and cussing and wondering where the heck I am and a message from an old acquaintance, ThreePinkyRingFinger Frankie, but that was actually good news.  I called Ts and he answered in his loveable way, “it’s your quarter, what da ya want”.  It’s me Ts, I just got back from Sweden, where I partied down with the Vikings and now I’m babysitting some metal thing with fire in a special case, but nevermind that.  I have some good news and some bad news, which to you want first?  “Let’s here the good news first.”  Well the good news is.....while we were in Europe the cannabis olympics were taking place in Amsterdam and I talked the pilot into taking a quick flight before they got the torch.  So with a couple of viking chicks, I went and managed to score a kilo of the gold medal winner to bring home.  The other good news is...remember when we saved ThreePinkyRingFinger Frankie’s butt and got him out of the particularly scary situation and he swore he would find a way to really pay us back?  Well it’s payback time...he gave me a horse at one of those summer fair tracks that is a mortal lock to win....he said the fix is in.....and will go off at 100/1 against a 1/9 favorite.  It all goes down tomorrow in Oxnard.  Ts replies...”yowza, that’s sounds like some pretty good news, but, what’s the bad news?  Oh Oh.  Well remember our special score money stash?  “yeah, the one in the ceiling tiles in the Greyhound Station in Gardenia.”  Yea, that one.  Well, it’s not there anymore, cause I took it to Amsterdam with me and .....well that goes back to the first bit of good news.  But don’t worry about it, I have an idea.  I’ll pick you up in front of 7-11 in a few minutes.

I looked around and everyone was dealing with the horses and the pilot and the vans, and my, how convenient, a cab with a sleeping driver.  I took a deep breath, grabbed the damn torch and made for the hack.  I jumped in and startled him, and told him to drive to the city and I would give him directions.  Once I noticed some recognizable landmarks, I started to give directions to the cabby.  He looked kinda familiar, from the movies or tv or a singer or something.  He made small talk and asked if he could record our conversation, for a book he wanted to write.  Sure, I said, then we would have it on tape when Ts tries to kill me.  I look at his cab license and it says Buster P^%%$$#*, or something, maybe I better slow down a little on the gold medal winning package in my bag. 

Ts is waiting for me on front of 7-11 and hops in when we pull up.  He is so mad, he looks like Popeye in the cartoons when he takes some spinach.  I tell the driver an address and we pull away with Ts trying to pound me into the window while he is making the truck drivers on the freeway blush with his screaming.  Finally, I get him to chill for a minute, maybe it was all the second hand gold medal smoke in the cab.  Here’s the plan, Stan, we take the torch thing to an antique dealer I know, this thing looks really old and really important, so it must be worth a nice piece of change.  We’ll let him buy it but with the stipulation that he can’t sell it right away.  He has to wait one day and we will come back and buy it back for twice what he paid for it.  If we don’t come back, he can do what he wants with it.  We’ll take the cash, go to Oxnard, bet the horse, cash our tickets, buy it back and the Equinics will be none the wiser.  Ts thought for a minute, smiled and said, “I like it!  Let’s go to a liquor store first for our errands and a trip to Oxnard.”  Buster, listening on headphones chimed in...”you guys need a driver for the day?” Hehehehehe.

After loading up on beer for Buster, well, he did have to drive, some Jack Daniels for me and a case of Thunderbird for Ts, we set out for the antique store and some folding green for the bet.  Larry, my antique store friend examined the torch and I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes and when he heard our deal, he started looking like that cat that ate the bird.  “How much do you want for it guys?”  $10,000 I said.  He laughed and said how about a $100.  Well this sort of verbal bargaining went on for a while, but our price seemed to go down faster than his price went up.  Thats when Ts took over the haggling and we walked with two grand.  Boy, we put one over on him, I think.  Well, my friends, lets hit the road, the first race is in Oxnard at noon and we have a ways to drive.

As we drove the open road, we started in earnest, working on our vices.  It seemed the logical thing to do.  After several hours we were very mellow and ready to eat.  Buster says he knows a great gourmet place right off the road.  A little bit later we pull into the parking lot of that fine dining establishment, Denny’s.  Nothing like motorway food!  Dinner passed uneventfully, except when Ts tried to put the make on the short order cook, till he noticed the beard and anchor tattoo.  Well, I did say we were feeling no pain and deep in our cups.  We staggered to the cab and decided to all catch a little nod and be nice and fresh for the morning, so after several nightcaps and a spliff to take the edge off, we napped in the cab.

When I woke up, it was hot and the sun seemed to be a lot higher than it should have been this early in the morning.  I looked at my watch......AHHHHHH.....it was 11:00 and we were at least an hour and a half from the fair grounds.  I started yelling and shaking Buster and told him to get on it and step on it.  Ts woke up and just started growling, but a little Thunderbird seemed to make him feel a little better.  “oh, my brain hurts,” he said.  I told Buster that there was a big tip in it for him if he could get us there on time.  He smiled and told us to hang on, it was going to be quite a ride.  As we speed towards the track, Ts and I made a plan to make sure we got right to the windows.  We split the money so we could each get to a window, and got ready to hit the ground running.  Buster was turning it on and as I watched the clock tick away, I realized we were actually going to make it.  We turned into the entrance and were running before the cab even stopped.

We had five minutes to post, we grabbed a program and looked for the name Lone Shark.  He was number 7, off to the windows.  We got it all in and took out tickets and went down to the rail.  That’s when we see ThreePinkyRingFinger Frankie and start to thank him for the tip.  He gets pale and says “you guys bet the tip?”  We let it ride we tell him and ask what the problem is.  “BentNoseDoubleBrassKnuckle Tony is here today and you guys know he is the boss of the whole outfit and he just bet his whole load on the favorite.  He hates to lose so I am going to signal the jock and tell him the scam is off when the horses walk by in the post parade.  Just then the horses walked onto the track and the favorite led the way.  He looked like Big Red on steroids with an attitude and when I saw #7, I realized the jig was up.  Lone Shark looked worse than the grandfather of the ponies that pulled carts around Central Park.  All of a sudden Ts threw his coat over Frankie and I jumped on him and he was trying to signal the jockey but with the crowd pressed around us, he couldn’t be heard or seen.  They loaded into the gate and at the break, the favorite went right to the lead and put ten lengths between himself and the second horse.  Lone Shark was in the back and as they went down the backstretch, he fell about 25 lengths off the leader.  The favorite was running easy as he turned for home and wasn’t going to be challenged in the stretch.  But from out of nowhere, Lone Shark, was running like the wind and was flying down the stretch, passing horses like they were standing still.  They were inside the 1/16 pole and the favorite was still leading and didn’t look like he was going to quit.  Lone Shark kept the train a rolling and they hit the wire together.  Ts and I were screaming our heads off when the PHOTO sign started flashing.  ThreePinkyRingFinger Frankie finally got untangled and told us he would fix our wagons when we got back into town and headed off to his date with destiny and BentNoseDoubleBrassKnuckle Tony.  We waited and waited and waited.  Fifteen minutes went by and suddenly the board flashed 1-7.  Damn, Frankie was safe, but Ts and especially me were in deep stuff, but wait, all of a sudden the INQUIRY sign lit up and the 1 and 7 started flashing, HA, we still had a chance.  Time and more time and more time went by.  Ts and I were starting to sweat and feel like the whole deal was queered and we were dead meat.  Then the improbable happened, the 1-7 reversed and the official sign went on.  The winner had dropped some lead on the track during the race and weighed in 2 pounds light.  Lone Shark’s jockey had seen it fall and almost ran over it.  The win price was even better than we could have hoped, $227.20.  Ts and I ran to the windows to collect our $227,200 and get out of Dodge.  We flew out to the cab, hopped in, told Buster to hit it and started back to civilization.

While we were driving back, I remembered that it was Saturday and Larry’s antique store closed early today and if we weren’t there before he closed, we couldn’t get the torch back.  Luckily, Buster was listening through the headphones and put the pedal to the metal.  We got to the store just as Larry was getting ready to turn the key and barged in and showed him the money.  His smile went away and took the money and gave us the torch and fancy case back.  He told us that the torch was a priceless artifact from the Grecian period and he thought he had it made in the shade, but Larry is on the square and a deals a deal.  We got back in the cab and I told Ts, we are going to have to blow town and go to Mexico for a while to let ThreePinkyRingFinger Frankie and BentNoseDoubleBrassKnuckle Tony cool off, but first we were going to Rodeo Drive and buy some new threads and then head to the Jungle Room for the night to enjoy the dancers and the shoe show.  Buster let us off and we paid the meter and gave him a 20 grand tip for all the effort.  He smiled and said he taped the whole thing and no one was going to believe it but he was going to write a movie script out of the tape.  Yeah, right, LALA Land.  A quick trip into Armani’s and Ts and I were dressed in a style we would like to be accustomed to and as we walked down Rodeo Drive with this flaming torch we ran into........

By Socalslew

Day 7

...Socalslew and some hot babe driving a pink Corvette Convertible. "Where the heck have you guys been?" "You've had the torch for the past 3 days, and now you've left me with just 1 day to get it safely to the Nevada gang." TS and Whirlwind just looked at eachother, and broke into a Beavis And Butthead kinda laughter…all the while wreaking of cheap booze and some type of skunk weed herb.

"Well guys, no time to share war stories, I gotta make tracks and get this flame on the road." With torch in hand, I hopped into the passenger seat, and we burnt rubber on our way out of the parking lot! As I looked back, I could see that both TS and Whirlwind noticed the license plate, which read 'TISSY 1'. I could hear their hoots of approval 2 blocks away "Way to go Socal!!!"

As we traveled our way through the streets of Beverly Hills, I was beginning to get a bit annoyed with Tissy, as she found it necessary to slow down to a near stop, so that she might peer into the windows at Armani…Chanel…Gucci…and so on and so on.
If we were to make the exchange with the Nevada crew on time, we'd really have to hustle. Besides, I was starving and really wanted to stop for lunch somewhere. We made our way towards Hollywood, where I knew of a great little Sushi bar that would take care of that growling in my stomach. We parked the car and entered, torch and all. The commotion settled down once I explained that this burning object which I had carried into their establishment, was the official torch of the Equinic Games. The Sushi Chef began to bow in respect, and explained that he too once had an Equinic hopeful (See Horse #995), and that our lunch would be on the house today! I ordered up a Spicy Tuna Handroll, Yellowtail Sashimi, Smelt Row with Quail Egg, and an order of Salmon Sushi. Tissy just said "yuck!" and settled for the Teriyaki Chicken Special. We toasted one last shot of Sake and were on our way to rendezvous with the gang from Nevada.

We got back under way when all of a sudden, a White Bronco screeched to a halt, blocking our way out of the parking lot. Tissy laid on her horn and had a few select words (in a not so 'feminine' tone) requesting this individual to move his car out of our path. Just then, a large Dark Skinned man emerged from the Bronco, and began to approach us. He was wearing a dark outfit, ski cap, and designer athletic shoes. I noticed him struggling with an obviously too small glove, and that's when I realized that we were in trouble! 

I jumped from the car, told Tissy to meet me at the rendezvous point, and took off with the torch! I was huffin' and puffin' and moving just as fast as these chubby little legs could carry me. My adversary ripped off his black leather jacket, and revealed a football jersey, printed with 'Lacostrapizza' on the front, and the number '32' on the back. We made our way at full speed, further down Hollywood Blvd. And I was beginning to tire badly. Dare I let the sacred torch into the hands of the Mob, and the Equinics, and all the good that it stands for would be destroyed. Just then, as we passed Gromanns Chinese Theater…A stroke of luck came my way!

The Mob's Hitman tripped in the cement casting of Douglas Fairbank's footprint, and fell flat on his face, landing in Rita Hayworth's, uh, err, hmmm, chest prints.

I summoned over a police officer, who cuffed him and was about to take him into custody, when from out of nowhere, some high power Hollywood Lawyer shows up and starts shouting "If the torch is lit…you must acquit!" While they all tried to piece things together, I snuck out the back, where I commandeered a skateboard from some kid with bright orange hair, and piercings on his nose, eyebrows, and tongue. I flipped him a c note, and told him that this action was for the sanctity of the Equinics. He responded with "That's rad dude!" "But like what's the Equinics?"

I skated through L.A's famed rush hour traffic, dodging Mercedes and Beemers at every turn. Suddenly, without warning, traffic came to a screeching halt, and I slammed into the rear of the convertible in front of me, thus propelling me into an airborne, 2 ½ somersault, landing me face down in the lap of the car's driver. Through groggy eyes, she reminded me of one of those 'Baywatch' girls. "Hi, I'm Pam" she said. "Is that your torch burning, or are you just happy to see me?" She went on to tell me of how her husband, the Rock Star, was off on tour, and she asked me if I'd like to make a home video with her? "Uh, thanks" I said, "But I've got my Tissy, and I've gotta get this torch to the Nevada Gang!" She was kind enough to drive me to the outskirts of the desert, where Tissy rode up on Nine Rae, while leading my filly, Western Log. I thanked Pam for the ride, and when she grabbed me and planted a big wet one on me, I got that 'You aint gettin' none tonight' look from Tissy. I hopped into the saddle, and we rode for a short while, when all of a sudden we came upon...