[It was a Saturday, and I had just moved to Wibaux, MT. Wibaux is near the border of Montana and North Dakota.]

I had an apartment in downtown Wibaux. It was a nice place, but noisy. The train went through downtown, but the biggest problem was the bar noise.

The Shamrock Bar was the noisiest bar in town and it was directly across the street from my place. I wasn’t prepared for the first Saturday night. The bar noise was so loud that I couldn’t sleep.

I heard an argument between two former friends. One of them said, “Hey, don’t cut me, man. I’ve loved you like a brother.”

When the bar closed at 2, I thought that Sunday night would be better. Nope – it was worse! North Dakota had laws preventing the sale of alcohol on Sundays. The drunks from North Dakota came to Wibaux to drink on Sunday evening.

Delmont’s Bread

Delmont, the guy that “works” the Circle K, often uses his proceeds to buy alcohol. In general he is a friendly fellow but when he has been drinking he is rather loud, although still not particularly threatening. One evening he was announcing to all within earshot. “I’m a bastard, I was born that way”.

During one of his sober streches, he remembered that he had learned to bake bread as a kid. He began to bake banana bread. Many Bisbee-ites began to buy his breads.

The other evening I encountered Delmont. He greeted me. Then he showed me how time flies to some in Bisbee. “In all the years that I have known you, you are always walking.” We have only lived in Bisbee for about three years.

Maybe it is time to buy some of Delmont’s bread.


Late afternoon on the fourth of July, I was walking to the High Desert Market to check out the menu. Along the way I saw one of Bisbee’s talk-to-your-self types.  He had a beard, and he was wearing a blue shirt and blue jeans. I could hear the conversation, “The bitch. The cigs weren’t that good anyway.”

He was sitting on one of the empty driveways. He got up slowly, and crossed the road, to the side I was walking on. He crossed the road with difficulty, staggering and walking slowly. As I neared him, he said “Sorry, I talk to myself.” I replied that this was no problem. He not only talked to himself;  he also smelled of alcohol.

He continued along the sidewalk, and I went into the High Desert Market. This afternoon they had nothing that I wished to order.

I turned around and headed back home. The old guy was still on his way to the Circle K, he hadn’t gotten very far. I caught up to him as he entered the Circle K parking lot. he had a couple dollars in his hand for his purchase, and he was still talking, to himself, not me, I think. “What is everybody doing at the Circle K today?” My question exactly.

Then Charley – a whole ‘nother case – greets him. They went into the Circle K, and I headed for home. As I entered our house, I saw these same two guys leaving the Circle K.

For security, our front door has a glass window which distorts the view of the person, kinda like a collage of Picassos. Shortly thereafter, someone knocked on our door. He had a beard and wore a blue shirt. The knocker then rang the doorbell. Much as I didn’t want to talk to them any more, I decided to open the door.

No it wasn’t these two guys, it was a friend from Bisbee.

Drunk at the Circle K

Last night I walked over to the Circle K to get a chocolate milk. I saw a drunk guy lying beside the wall of the Circle K, he was dead drunk. The Circle K manager was saying that he was going to call the cops. His assistant said “No, let’s call Bob”.

I walked down the street. Soon I saw a cop car going toward the Circle K. Shortly thereafter I saw another cop car going toward the Circle K. A little later I saw the two cop cars with their emergency lights flashing, and their sirens blaring. They were now going the other direction.

As the cop cars passed by, a battered pickup was going in the direction of the Circle K. As soon as the pickup up driver saw the cop cars go by, he did a quick u-turn, and headed off in the direction that the cops were going.

I can only surmise that this was Bob. Both the cops and Bob were called. The cops got there first.

I figured that I had sussed out the situation.

As I related the story to Cheri, she informed me that the cop cars did indeed show up at the Circle K, but that the drunk walked home.

Tonight last night’s drunk was at his appointed post.