For a few years now, I’ve played the role of Johnny Chalkyseed in the PNW. Swiping the worn-down-but-still-viable chalks from the big ol’ bucket at Sam’s, and carrying then around for whenever I come across a bar that has neglected its chalk. Either they have none at all or it’s down to some comical fragment. It’s always a delight and surprise to be shooting someplace and suddenly notice I’m using one that I planted there months ago and forgot about… in this case, Bar 108. Next time you’re on some dive bar pool table in Oregon or Washington, look at the bottom of the chalk cube, I might have visited…
