"Pump my gas, pump my ass" - Leprechaun

Squirm.

Yup.
That's right.
The notorious N. Reid from Reidsville.
That's who I saw in Banff.
Now just imagine that.

We were outside the bar for a cigarette when this familiar figure walked by me with a decent looking gal. In my drunken stupor the only word I could force out of my lips was "SQUIRM?!"

Then I heard It...

It's a sound that once you hear It, you never forget It. It sounds how I imagine an oversized leprechaun may sound if you told it a real good joke.

It was Squirm's laugh.

Still as distinct as ever.

Then he spoke.

"I haven't heard that name in a long time b'ys ."

I just looked at my buddy Brian Crane (he's from my hometown) and we couldn't believe our eyes.

Another great helping of unlikelyness dealt out by my good ol' friend Banff.

You see, Squirm was a significant figure during my adolescents. Back in the day, me and my friends snuck into the pool at Squirm's cabin for a late night swim, and then an unnamed friend took a shit in there before we left.

Squirm is older than me and he used to have a Geo Tracker. I can remember waiting for him to get off work to buy us beer and give us a ride to the beach to drink them. There'd be about 10 of us in that little thing and he didn't give a fuck. He worked at an Esso gas bar and for some unknown reason, we referred to all employees there as "Ass Pirates."

It seems like eternities ago that I used to walk into Subway and hope that Squirm didn't serve me. The rumoured pimples on his back kinda spoiled my appetite, but the man could make a great sub, I must admit, and if you did end up with him as your chef, you would be quite pleased with the result.

I can't remember what he said he's up to now. But I bet it's a lot cooler than what must of us are doing. The guy has a decent girl and lives in a party town. Is there much more a man from Reidsville could ask for?

I say "Well done Squirm!"