Hung Like the Wolf
By Abbey Rose
Copyright 2012 Abbey Rose
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Jase swung his leg over the back of his motorcycle, leaning it against a telephone poll, and gazed across the small expanse of his new home. The village of Canaan, New Hampshire, was a far cry from his former life in New York, but perhaps getting back to the wilderness would bring some peace to his frenzied mind. He had been feeling like he had lost himself since graduating college. The working world was hectic and crazy and he wasn't able to make sense of it all. In the past few years, he'd felt his individuality drip away. He had slowly turned into someone he'd always hated - a working drone. It had taken a lot of guts to quit his job, leave his apartment and just leave for the wilderness.
He had picked Canaan because it was a tiny name on the map - an isolated little valley in the White mountains, about as far from a city as you can get. There was only one bar in the small town. Hoping to find something to eat, Jase made his way up to the Three-Legged Beaver Pub.
The inside of the pub was decorated with a strange mixture of kitsch depicting local landmarks and hilariously sad taxidermied animals that had been mixed and matched into strange and monstrous creatures. A jackelope over the bar clutched a sign asking people to "Find yer own goddamn seat". Jase did as was asked, picking a shiny red stool at the bar. The bartender sidled over to take his order.