When A Narcissist Falls Apart
The weather that fall was terrible; well actually, it was just a little worse than normal. We were in a hunting camp in the mountains about one hundred miles North of the Peace. There were three guides with three hunters. Knarley Manners, my best friend, had a nice quiet hunter that was serious about hunting and wasn’t worried about the cold, miserable conditions. I had one of a pair of hunters from Chicago: the two of them had won the hunting trip through a company contest and they were as different from each other as two men can be.