Monday, July 11, 2005

The War of Southern Aggression (part 4)

After a while all the boats converged in one large neighborhood; they were consolidating their forces. They began to fire away with an awesome array of weapons. Some made an eerie whirring sound, some tunneled down into the foundation of the Bass family homes. All of them were effective.

Caught up in their frenzied activity, they neglected to see what I saw. In a cluster of trees, not 100 yards away, was a uniformed officer. My heart began to race. Finally, help was on the way.
Courage began to well up in me and I declared, "It's the law! Now this carnage will stop."

Then, the worst thing that could happen, happened. The officer summoned me into his presence: a case of mistaken identity. The Giant whispered to me, "Unless you want this seven and a half foot, medium weight weapon to come crashing down over your head, you just do what I say."

In that instant, my life flashed before me.

Hope surged upward again. The officer was a brave man. Soon, he was hailing the entire assault team to him. Everyone responded. Except one -- the one called "Pass."

For such a brute, he had the cunning of a fox. Like a Jedi knight, he waved his hand and took control of the officer's mind. Before you knew it, the conversation was turned to frog giggin'. Yes, you heard me right, frog giggin'. I realized I was in the presence of a master.

With another wave of his big mitt, the next thing you know, I was being hauled off with one of the little hairy-faced guys. We were going to be searched and interrogated. Off we went, tramping through the woods to who knows where. Would this be the end?

I must stop for now. I will meet with my therapist, collect my wits, and try to continue on with the story tomorrow.

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