Hardly moving or stationary living?
Consequences lead the parade...
Wrinkled time makes for some awkward first encounters with oneself.
So we haven't quite figured out how to unfreeze the millionairs but they keep comming around to have themselves preserved...
The real trick is to know how tuff you are not and how willing you are to follow through when blufing. This is a lesson not always easily learned...
So we had lost a bit of the following but continued the recruiting efforts at the gun range and the local watering holes...
Where else could we find the cream of the crop? I had no idea.
Many of our newest members were borderline schizophrenics with as many conspiracy theories as one liners. Often times our meetings were more like Icke rallies than revolutionary parties. Did this scare me? You bet your drunken goat of a granny it did...
Too much attention was being given to who we were running from rather than why we were doing what we were doing. To be perfectly honest I had somehow started buying into what I was peddling... What had started out as a monster of a prank was now evolving and becoming just a bit more dangerous.
This was no longer your typical beer run during curling semi-finals...
Not since the Donnie Osmund Fan Club or the "Professional" Fraternity (that will remain nameless) did a simple excuse to have a little fun get out of hand.
It was like the Boondocks Saints had been re-written by a person living in a soft room eating soft food.
So the core membership had not changed but somehow started being less willing to broadcast its whereabouts. Strange considering our normally personable demeanor. What was happening? Did we need a wake up call? Did we need to be reminded of who we were?
In short, yes.
The Cowboy and I decided to help all of us we would need to dumb it up a little and set upon constructing the running of the gauntlet that could re-inspire. Word on the wire was that the museum was going to have some sort of a natural history of flight exposition and we wanted in...
Now I must take a moment to recognize how little of a background check many night watchmen get these days...
Rodneyy had been a loyal and trusted friend of the Cowboy for a few years and had somehow managed to pass both the drug and background checks of a local security company that had won the museums bid by cutting its costs by using interns from the university's law enforcement program.
After properly motivating Randy after the fourth round of a harmless liquid lunch with promises of barrel racers and swimsuit models, we had our inside man. All we had to do is be at the south door of the museum at 03:00. This would give the membership a chance to make the appointment and last call on just another Tuesday night.
Final Headcount brought us to eleven. This was not our best turn out, but would promise to be fun. Each member was issued a hand truck, three crates, gorilla glue, and a six pack in the parking lot.
Like a circus entry we formed a single file line through the South entrance and began disbursing the contents of our crates after being reassured the cameras had been disabled. The laughter was contagious as we set about our task. Every member was sure to empty his crates and dispose of all six cans properly. Our mission was complete and we dissolved back into the night.
The next morning the local news channels were abuzz with our victory with descriptions of the scene inside of the museum where vandals had glued over 12,000 plastic flamingos to the history of flight hall and just like that we were on top again. One small detail would escape the news shows for at least ten more hours as the Cowboy and I had partially filled each of the flamingos with frozen bait shrimp just to let them know we meant business... Oh the scent of victory.
Time waits for no man, but will find something to read while waiting for the right lady to pick out something to wear...
We should all re-focus this week and find our inner silly and buy it a shot.
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