I can dream, can't I?

By Mac Arnold
RTO Editor

After my shift here in Toledo on Tuesday night, I will be swinging by the mailbox to send out the annual miracle draw that is the Maine moose lottery.

Couldn't tell you exactly how many years it's been since I've started putting in for this chance of a lifetime, but I'm thinking it's been at least a decade.

The scenario starts out in rugged back northwoods of  "The Pine Tree State." It's a chilly and damp November day. Specks of white from a recent snowstorm dot the hillside. There I am set up along a cut muddy two-track and out steps a monster bull. Seconds later I raise the Mossberg slug gun and drop him with a perfect shot straight into the boiler room.

I stand over the fallen beast in disbelief from his monstrous proportions and wide palms that make up his rack.

Honkkkkkkkkk!!!! Honkkkkkkkkk!!!!

Then I snap out of this tremendous moment and realize the light is green and someone behind me is ticked off because I haven't moved for 20 seconds.

Oh, well, a guy can dream can't he?