Friday afternoon, Real Paisley
It's a pleasant day in the Yukon, best one of 1897 so far they say, and the town is having a bit of a party. The music from the big parade in the town square is catchy, but my attention is drawn to four people who look like they might be working up to something.
I listen in and eventually begin to cheer with them whenever they shout, “Sechs!”. Despite all the numbers, they are unsure of the count.
“Ich hole die Gabel und den Messer.”
“Hier sind die Handschuhe.”
“Alles, was wir brauchen, ist da. Los geht's!”
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