I was out riding trails on Saturday with a few folks. Cold? Not for Minnesota. Snow? Sure, but the trails were in great shape, like when it's dirt, but with occasional ice underneath to make it exciting. In fact, the snow pack filled in some pitted sections, making it smoother than usual. At one point, stopped between laps, I heard a voice I had not before and started looking around to see where it was coming from. No one else was there besides us. I heard it again: "Hey! Let me out!" It was coming from Luby's pocket. "Luby," I said, "there's a voice coming from your pants." The voice answered for him. "It's me, Flasky! Let me out! I know you're riding, I can feel myself sloshing around. Come on, I wanna party!" Luby pulled his flask from his pocket. "Ah, that's better," said Flasky. "Fresh air, singletrack. Drink me! Let's rock!" Luby looked nervous. "I dunno, Flasky, you got me in trouble last time I let you out." "Look, we can have some fun. No big whoop. Now open me up." Luby still looked nervous. "I don't think so, Flasky. You're a mean drunk." "Listen @$$hole," said Flasky, "you take me out now or next time you drink me I'll make you puke. Think about it." Luby's resolve wavered, but he didn't open the flask. The rest of us just stood there watching it unfold. Flasky got impatient. "O.K., seriously. This is getting old. Open me up right now." I looked at Backer. He shrugged. "I've about had it, mutherhumper," said Flasky. "Drink me! DRINK ME!" "Shut up, you stupid flask," said Luby, and he started to put the flask back in his pocket. "O.K., how 'bout this?" Flasky was getting angry. "You like to sh*t fire? Cuz I can burn comin' out too!" Luby thought hard. We knew he was thinking hard because he stuck out his tongue and furrowed his brow. Also, we could hear the squeaking of the gears in his head. At last he took the flask out of his pocket, opened it and took a swig. He passed it around, while Flasky made happy noises: "Oo, that's it. Right there. I make you warm, eh? A'right! Let's ride! Yeeha!" And we did. It's a strange world. They oughta sell tickets. -----