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The Good Guys Always Win

Started by mini, March 11, 2011, 08:19:12 PM

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Babs

Religion is worthless until it is able to move outside the walls.

My latest blog post.

Lynx

Minnesota have you done this before?  Or is this your first shot at this kind of thing?
"Do you sing at church?"[br /]"Yes I sing at church, I sing at home, at work, in the car, at the supermarket, at Wal-Mart..."[br /]:sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing:

mini

Quote from: Psalm_97 on March 14, 2011, 11:26:26 PM
Minnesota have you done this before?  Or is this your first shot at this kind of thing?


First shot.   :smirk2:
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

Babs

Religion is worthless until it is able to move outside the walls.

My latest blog post.

SippinTea

 :o Dude. Think how good you'll be by the time you've written a couple dozen stories. You'll put Randy Alcorn out of business.  :lol:

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

MelodyB

Barb...you are talking about Deadline, Dominion and Deception? Or Randy Alcorns other books? I could have read The Purity Principle in about an hour, but THAT one took about two weeks. *cough*

But the other three take at LEAST two weeks for me. And I've also been told I read pretty fast. 
Have you slapped that one dude from Indiana with a pie in the face today? [br /]  [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h181/MelodyB99/Other/duckie-2.gif[/img]

Babs

i can read most books in less than two hours. rarely find a book that takes me longer than that except the bible lol
Religion is worthless until it is able to move outside the walls.

My latest blog post.

SippinTea

Quote from: Babs on March 14, 2011, 11:51:13 PM
i can read most books in less than two hours. rarely find a book that takes me longer than that except the bible lol


Yep. Me too. But not RA's trilogy. :cool:

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

mini

Anyone interested in a new story?
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

mini

June 08, 2011, 01:44:54 AM #34 Last Edit: June 08, 2011, 01:53:38 AM by minnesota68
The phone call came at 2:36 am.  The President woke out of a troubled sleep and stared at the phone for a few seconds, dreading the news the call brought.

Tensions with China had been straining for weeks.  Informants had gathered information and sent it through channels that were routed into other channels and mixed into other channels before ultimately being fed into computers and databases for only the highest officials and select eyes to see.  News reports over the past few weeks had slowly gathered whispers of something happening between America and China.  War had been avoided at all costs, but conspiracy theorists had feverishly preached their doctrines of doom with ever increasing panic.

The possibility of a strike on US soil had been considered for decades.  In WWII bases were located up and down the coast lines to train enough pilots to meet the demands of a ever expanding war.  It was a good ruse, and the military powers explained they needed to train pilots to fly over open water. But in a quiet, underhanded move, they stocked the bases with enough firepower, ammo and manpower to ward off most any attack by air.  From there it was one country or another that became our enemy, with some threats more feasible than others.  Then in 2001 a group succeeded in striking us on our soil.

For the last few years, tensions with China had been growing.  When China announced they would no longer buy American debt, the following chain of events happened slowly, but each one set off louder alarms.  Finally, Chinese officials pressed the world bank to downgrade the value of the dollar by nearly half.  In one night, America was crippled.  Unfortunately, the sword was double edged.  Suddenly China had lost its biggest economic consumer.  Hundreds of thousands were laid off in both countries.  The common man cried for the blood of their newly sworn enemy.  Pressure rose on the Chinese government to put a final stake in the heart of America.

The informants had long whispered through their secret channels that China had nuclear missiles.  With feverish and sudden intensity, those channels swarmed with rumors and facts that China was positioning those missiles aiming toward the head of the US, Washington, DC.

The plans were made in chambers across Washington.  Each step was quiet, heart breaking.  Troops were moved into strategic locations.  Missiles were prepped. Ships readied.  It was a old fashioned but tried, tested, and true economic practice.  War meant work, and that work meant jobs and economic boom.  To rally the morale of the citizens, they needed a cause.  Lately the majority of the news had been about the economic situations.  Food was available for those few who still had jobs.  But with 31% unemployment nation wide, those few with jobs were quickly becoming a minority.

The President knew the citizens needed a cause to stand for.  His idea was simple.  Once proposed, it was seized with a devotion that is shown by only the most loyal of supporters.  A address to the nation was taped in a generic White House setting.  It explained that America was under attack, and gave a small but staggering call to arms.  It would be aired on every station within seconds a conformation the attack.  He had seen the video and was surprised by the tired face and voice that looked back at him.  A long talk with the Vice President, and he was quickly shipped off, to give various speeches or other such things, but never to come back to the Presidents side.  The vice president knew that he was supposed to step in and fill the shoes of the Commander in Chief when the Commander was killed in this unprecedented attack on the US. 

The little pieces were left, never to be recovered.  All of the artwork that graced the White House stayed.  To move it would cause a panic in the community, and just add fuel to the fire of conspiracy that was burning.  The unreplaceable treasures in the museums around the city would be destroyed.  It had to look like a surprise.  The only blessing would be it would wipe out anything above ground.  The deep vaults, reserved for the most precious treasures, would most likely be still intact.

It was the lives of the people that bothered the President the most.  How could he curse hundreds of thousands to death?  The babies that had a whole life in front of them.  The mommas who's arms will suddenly be emptied.  He was thankful his children lived in other states.  His girl was a Teacher.  His oldest boy was a Preacher.  He had three grandkids, all of them safe, and far away.  Would they ever understand?  Or would he become another mass murderer?  Or would their country ever realize the sacrifice that was to be made?  Or would he go down is history as the killer of the innocent?

How do you resolve the question of killing a few to save many?

He knew he would be killed by the blast.  In China's blinded war, he was the figurehead of power.  His death would mean America's defeat.  But he also understood his Vice President would become president, and retaliate against this enemy.  Win or lose, they would fight.  Senators and Congressmen were all on summer break.  The government would still be somewhat intact, but renewed in their focus and vigor.  The thing was only a handful of nameless people knew about a plan that would change the fate of history.

The President stared at the phone, ringing by his bedside.  Slowly he picked it up.  The conversation was brief.  It was headed his way.  In 24 minutes, America would be changed.  He walked to the door of his presidential bedroom, opened it, and looked at the two secret service agents.  It surprised him that no matter when he saw them, they always looked fresh.  The President had made it a point to know about these men, and their personal lives.  Now, strangely, he wished he had never found out.  Tears welled up in the Presidents eyes.  Both secret service man stared, startled.  A few brief words and the message became clear.  This was the end.

He closed the door to his room, and walked back in.  For a moment he looked at his bride of 44 years, sleeping peacefully.  They had never tried to keep secrets from each other.  But here at the end, he held the secret that would kill her.  The resolve in his mind strained under the realization that she would die too.  A bead of sweat trickled down his face, touching the corner of his lips.  Unconsciously, he licked his lips and was surprised at the saltiness of his sweat.  Slowly, he made his way back to his bedside, and picked up the bible that laid there.  Gently, he held it to his chest as if these precious pages would protect him from the doom that was to come.  With feet that seemed to be made of lead, he made his way back around the bed to his brides side.  He wondered if history would even remember them.

A light touch to her shoulder woke her up.  With quiet words that gave way to tremendous sobs he explained what was happening.  Together in the final minutes, they hugged each other tightly.  Then hand in hand, they knelt and began to pray.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

mini

June 08, 2011, 03:10:08 AM #35 Last Edit: June 08, 2011, 03:16:01 AM by minnesota68



The Retarded Dog
Our dog is retarded.

I know that "retarded" is not the proper way to say "mentally handicapped," but the truth of the matter was he was closer to being a fool than handicapped. Simply put, the mutt was retarded.

My wife, being the Ellie May of our family, had rescued him from a box marked free and some old man (who I expect may have been the devil in overalls), outside the local grocery store 5 years ago. A bundle of tricolored fluff who was anything but cute turned quickly into a 75 pound toothless lap dog. Yes, you read that right. He was toothless. Which was a good thing.

My son named him Taco, much to my wife's chagrin. I had suggested Freddie Fitzgerald Fronzenburger the 13th, but apparently my son inherited a sense of humor from me, which will not help him much in awkward social situations. Unfortunately for the mutt, the name Taco stuck.

Its probably a good thing he lost his teeth. I remember once when he was a puppy and still had teeth, I caught him chasing his tail. He was giving it his best effort when suddenly, while denying every law of nature known to man, he caught his tail. And bit it. Hard. Dumb dog let out a yelp and ran across the yard like a snake had bit him. Since that day, he has never chased his tail, but always keeps a wary eye on it.

Taco had every cat and squirrel and hoodlum in the neighborhood buffaloed into believing he was the meanest thing on 4 feet, and he had the look, build and bark that backed it up. The problem was he was holding a empty gun in a ongoing turf war.

I have only seen one creature brave enough to call Taco's bluff. We have had a old striped tomcat who has taken up residence around our garage. Taco caught him half way between the garage and our back fence. The old cat eyed the huge dog that approached, did a quick mental calculation, realized or decided he didn't have much left to live for, and stopped. All of this didn't quite register in Taco's mind, so onward he barreled.  One thing to keep in mind about cats: On each end of their feet are claws. In their mouths are sharp teeth. Statistically, a cat is sharp on 5 of its 6 ends. Dogs on the other hand have one means of defense. Their mouths. And Taco had no teeth.

Buddy, that cat laid into Taco like ugly on a ape. That 8 pound tomcat whipped that 75 pound dog all over the yard. Taco was finished with that cat roughly .3 seconds after he got ahold of him, but that cat worked him over for a good 60 seconds/minutes/years.

Since then, all that cat has to do is sneeze anywhere within 2 miles of Taco, and that dog  is in the house, curled up in my recliner.  MY RECLINER!

Retarded dog.

Taco lost his teeth shortly after the last of his adult teeth came in. He had developed a bad habit of chasing things that moved. My son had decided to clean the car, somewhat on his own accord.  Actually, my son had his heart set on a dirtbike and thought the sure way to dads wallet was through good deeds...I wasnt buying it but was milking it for all it was worth.  He left a rag in the back wheel of our car. Later, I had to run a errand in town. As I started to leave, Taco saw the rag flopping around and grabbed ahold of it. Its a wonder it didn't kill him. I looked in the rear view mirror in time to see a big hairy tricolored thing go flop, brought the car to a screeching halt, and ran around to see what was going on. The dumb dog was sitting up by that point, looking at me cross eyed, and grinned as if to say "I whipped that rag!"

Of course he was a mess, and my own Ellie May said I had to take him to the vet. Taco cost us $451 dollars that day, and I still have some spots of blood in the car that I cant get out.

But today took the cake. I got a call from Mr. Finn, who lives a block over from us.

Now Mr. Finn is a crabby old vet who listed life's priorities as smoking, cussing, and spitting, none of which Ethel Finn, his wife, allowed in her house. He firmly belived that his divine calling in life was to teach every kid in the neighborhood how to spit, cuss, and smoke.  That, you can guess, earned him the ire of my wife, and every mom within 12 blocks. He enjoyed this status and mission in life throughly.

Next to Mr Finns big three things in life were his chickens and his garden, both which he took great pride in. Everyone in the neighborhood seemed to have a garden of sorts, but Mr. Finn was the only one in the area with chickens too. The city council had the stupidity to send him a letter about the chickens once, calling them barnyard animals and how they violated some code. It took 4 police officers to get the resulting ruckus settled down. I honestly thought the whole council was gonna get impeached, tarred and feathered in the resulting city council fight. Now, no one messed with his chickens. On the other hand, I had been worried Taco would take great intrest in the chickens, but after his teeth incident the dog was content in keeping only the animals in yard at bay, except, of course, that one tomcat.

Mr. Finn also had a outhouse. About 4 years ago, Johnny Smith, one of the neighborhood kids, rolled a cherry bomb under the door of the outhouse while Mr. Finn was inside. Ethel told my wife later in a phone call that she saw the whole thing from her kitchen window. Johnny lit the cherry bomb, rolled it under the door and took of back down the alley as fast as his legs would carry him. About that time Mr. Finn came bursting out of the outhouse in a dead run all the while wrestling with is pants. He made it about 4 steps across the lawn when the cherry bomb went off. Ethel said it shot a mushroom cloud of sewage out and around the yard. That afternoon, I saw Mr. Finn with a waterhose rinsing out the outhouse. He was also motivated enough to fix the gap at the bottom of the door.

Taco found the outhouse one day with Mr. Finn inside it, the latter of whom apparently had a flashback of another cherry bomb, the result which sent Mr. Finn into a fight and flight that resulted in a comotion that was laughed about around the neighborhood for weeks. That was also the day that I had to prove to Mr. Finn that Taco had no teeth. The humor of the situation made Taco a favorite of Ethel.  Since then, Taco has made the Finn's house a regular stop on his daily route.  Ethel's feeding Taco a sugar cookie everytime he came around didn't help keep Taco away.  Luckily, Mr. Finn hasn't taught Taco how to cuss, smoke, or spit.  Yet.

But lately, Mr. Finn has been having problems with rabbits eating his garden.  Another neighbor decided to go out of the rabbit business by letting all his rabbits loose.  And being rabbits, the 12 he let loose suddenly multiplied like rabbits.  The majority of them were captured, but a few proved it was their life long duty to break every "fact" known about rabbits.  These things were sneaky.  Various reports came in over the following weeks about flowers being eaten, small pets being mugged, and a rabbit stealing a car and egging a house.  The charge about the flowers were never proven to be rabbits.

Mr. Finn, in his battle against the rabbits vandalizing his garden, decided the best way to keep the rabbits out was a electric fence.  And this fence was hot.  I know this, because on the day he called me over, he absentmindedly touched it, and once properly shocked, gave that fence a cussing that would have made most electricity afraid to follow the path of least resistance.  But on this particular day, after the unintentional display of the poweress of his new electric fence, he invited me into his back yard to "sit a spell."  Curious, I followed him.

"Craziest thing I ever saw" he said, once we got seated.  I wondered for about a minute what he was talking about, when a 75 pound, tri colored ball of fluffy toothless lap dog walked into the yard.  He looked at us, grinned that toothless grin, and wandered over to Mr. Finns garden.  I started to holler at the dog, then realizing I would be wasting my voice, decided to watch and see what happened.  Besides that dog needed to learn to stay away from electric fences.

Taco wandered up to the fence, looked at it cross eyed for a split second...AND LICKED IT!  The jolt must have hurt.  Taco went stiff legged and fell over, his eyes glazed over in a cross-eyed, blank stare, his large toothless mouth fixed in a permanent grin.  I stared in the "I'm watching a train wreck" fashion.  "The dumb dog just killed himself" I exclaimed.  And I was gonna have to explain to Ellie May what happened.  Mr. Finn snickered.  "Wait a sec and watch this."  Sure enough the dog began to stir.  Slowly he got back on his feet, looked around in a dazed but content fashion, and walked unsteadily out of the yard.

"Dumb dog has been doing that every hour on the hour since this morning.  I think he shorted something out upstairs when he did it the first time."  I shook my head in unbelief.  Luckily, Mr. Finn turned the power down that night, and solved his rabbit problem.  And Taco, not quite getting the same jolt as before, decided to pursue other avenues of entertainment. I hope to high heaven that stupid dog never realizes he can gum through a electric cord, or takes up licking car batteries.  We might have to change his name to "Low Watt" case hes none to bright.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

Lynx

Excellent stories, both of them.  The first one is just barely plausible, just enough to make one shiver.  The second one I laughed a lot at. 
"Do you sing at church?"[br /]"Yes I sing at church, I sing at home, at work, in the car, at the supermarket, at Wal-Mart..."[br /]:sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing:

mini

Another one of my "The Good Guy's Always Win" stories.  It was a quick write, and is probably full of errors.  I may edit it at some point.  Popped in my brain, and I thought I would share it with you guys.  Enjoy!  -mini

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My boss handed me the fax ten minutes before 11 am.  They were having a press conference at the county jail, and since he was the ranking official in the office, and seeing I was the only reporter at this small town newspaper, it befell my duty to attend any and all meetings he didn't feel like attending.  And today was my lucky day.  I glanced briefly at the time on the bottom of the paper.  It was just sent.

I had hoped for an early lunch at Kirby's.  An order of their fried pickles was enough to send my cholesterol and doctor into orbit, but they were good.  I usually tried to get there by 11, and miss the lunch crowd.  Its strange, as a reporter, I had gotten to the point where I hated being around people.  Usually, all they wanted to do was gripe about some story I wrote, how this or that fact wasn't accurate.  I felt like telling them if they didn't like it, to quit buying the paper.

Oklahoma is dry and windy right now, and especially our city.  I stepped out of the office, glared in the general direction of the wind, thought for a moment about driving the 4 blocks to the county jail, then thought better of it, and decided to walk.  The wind was howling, but the temperatures were nice.

The only person in the conference room was Thelma, the aging secretary.  She smoked, wore too much makeup, and could fight better than half the deputies.   Last year, at the Christmas party, Thelma sailed right through the beer and worked herself up to hard liquor by the time the main course was served.  Then Tom Brains' made an offhand comment about her being drunk, and the fight started.  It took 8 cops, 3 ambulances, and a police dog to settle the riot down.  2 deputies had stitches, 1 had a broken arm.  And it cost the county $3496 in repairs to the Best Westerns banquet room.  Thelma was back at work the next day, sweet and surly as ever, nary a scratch on her.  Rumors said that the Sheriff wanted to fire her, but was afraid of what she would do to him if he did fire her.  And every deputy signed a petition asking for her not to be fired.  Apparently they were afraid of her too.

Thelma glared at me for a moment, and then decided I meant no harm.  She went back to working on her fingernails.

At 11 sharp, the sheriff walked in, flanked by two government men.  They seemed to be FBI agents or something.  After working around this town for the last 10 years, I knew right away something was different.  Besides me and Thelma, no one else was here.  In the back of my head, something clicked.  They had sent the notice of the meeting out just moments before the meeting started to keep this open and quiet at the same time.  The fewer stories out, the smaller the case.   Strange...most of the time, these FBI guys were limelight junkies.

The meeting was brief and to the point.  1 guy was arrested last night on charges of hacking, and stealing money.  No big deal, I thought, the inner cynic.  I have at least 10 emails in my spam folder all calming that they are from royalty and I could have their share of millions, if I would just provide a small fee and a bank account.  Some pimple faced kid does this here in Oklahoma and the government comes unglued.

What they said next, stunned me.  This guy was charged with stealing nearly 40 million.  Here!?!  Being a car nut, the first thing I thought of was which kid was driving around town in a Lamborghini.  The banker's son didn't even have one.  For that matter, a Corvette was as rare as a Lamborghini in our town.

The FBI guy asked if anyone had any questions, while glaring at me.

Scrambling to make my mouth and brain work in holy matrimony, and not say something stupid, I said the best thing I came up with.  "If he had 40 million, what did he spend it on?"  The FBI guy looked at me hard for a moment, decided how to answer though a mind and mouth wrapped in red tape, and said simply, "Everyone else."

--------------------------------------------

I dug frantically that afternoon, writing the story.  The boss liked to have the paper ready for print by 5 pm.  I hated the schedule, arguing that we missed good news if we didn't get ready to print by midnight.  But, he owned the paper, and liked to be in bed by 9 pm.  When I came in this afternoon, he realized that this story may be bigger than the FFA club having record sausage sales this year, and agreed to let me put this on the front page, if, and only if I was ready.

It didn't take me long to find out everything I could about this guy.  2 tickets in his entire life, once in 1999, when he was doing 10 over on a county back road.  I had traveled that same road many times in those days.  It was a quicker route, to Tulsa.  And the speed limit was 45.  No one went below 55 on there.  So nothing big there.  The other was a seat belt violation, as a passenger, nearly 4 years later.  Other than that, this guy was clean.  He had graduated in a county school, went to the county college, and worked a normal 8 to 5 job.  As I wrapped up the story, I realized there was a huge question.  What did he do with the money?  His address was about a mile away from the office, so I drove over there quickly, camera in hand, and snapped a few pictures.  Simple car in the driveway, modest house, recently mowed lawn.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

The neighbor saw me looking at the house, and came over.  "You know where he went?' she asked.  "2 guys pulled up in a car this morning, and hauled him off.  Van showed up a few minutes later, and went through the house.  Carried off a couple computers and some junk, but they sure weren't here very long.  Expected to see them around for hours.  Seemed to be a good kid, always giving someone a hand with something."

As I drove back to the office, I reflected on what I knew.  Something didn't add up.

--------------------------------------------

The story ran in the paper the next day.  By the time I got to the office at 7:45, the place was in an uproar.  Tell the locals that one of their own is hiding 40 million, and you open up the Pandora's Box of nut cases.  One of the local cops was leaned against the hood of his car as I came walking up to the office.  The paper hit 3 of the all night stores at 3:15 last night.  By 4:45, the PD had 3 phone calls of prowlers around the house.  After the last call, they left someone there for the rest of the night.

"They take anything?" I asked.  "Not a thing, every one of them was looking for stacks of money.  Guy's house was clean as a whistle. Nothing there out of the ordinary."

The boss had a stack of messages for me.  Mostly people wanting to ask questions, or speculate on what he did with the money.  My first real tip came after the 12th message.  Joanne Robinson had lost her husband in an oil field accident 2 years ago.  No life insurance, small job, no health insurance.  The guy who ran the company where her husband had worked gave her a check for $10,000 and walked away.  Barely enough to cover the funeral, pay a couple small bills and then back to barely surviving.  Her salary wouldn't pay the car payment, house payment, and still keep the phone, gas, and electric on.  And no matter how much everyone pats you on the back in that time, when the going gets tough; it seems your friends sure dwindle down quick.

"I was about to lose the house and the car, when someone paid off both of them in one day.  They also deposited money in my account too, enough for several months.  Did it again at Christmas, both years since Justin has died.  I don't know, but I really think it was that guy who was arrested yesterday."

Speculation is a lousy source of reliability.  But something she said seemed to fit the questions I had yesterday.  I thanked her, and told her I would dig into the story more.

Three more times during the day, I heard similar stories.  All hardship.  All getting some gift from a unknown source.

At 3pm, I got a call from the AP.  They had picked up my story.  By 4pm, it was in over 100 places on the internet.  I knew the next story was going to be even bigger.

I called a friend at a local bank.  After a few pleasantries, she asked about the story.  "Oh, it's been the talk of the bank today."  "Why?" I asked.  "Well, he sure didn't have the money stashed here, if that's what you are asking."  I laughed.  Then I asked about strange deposits.  The line went quiet for a moment, and she said, "We ain't really supposed to talk about stuff like that.  But, don't quote me on this, but about 30 or so loans have all been paid off in the last few months.  And these were people that really needed the money.  You know, like death in the family, sick folks, stuff like that."

Another call to another bank got a pleasant but firm, we don't discuss things like that to the media.  A third call was made to directly to the president of another bank.  Again, off the record, and again, many outstanding loans paid off.  I asked how it was possible.  "I don't know,' he said, "everything checked out 100%.  We traced it back, dollar for dollar, and every penny was legit.  It was so common; we finally stopped questioning it, and just accepted it.  We figured it was a good Samaritan."

------------------------------------

Sitting back in my chair, I waited for the final page to print off the printer.  The story raised the obvious question in my mind.  I took it over to my boss, and watched slowly as he read it.  By the time he got to the end, his eyes were bulged and he let out a low whistle.

"Can you prove this?' he asked.  "Most of its unnamed sources,' I replied.  "But there is enough here to make a good read, and a good story." he said.

The FBI would never find all the money.  It was a modern day tale of Robin Hood, robbing the rich, giving to the poor.  Every penny he stole was from huge businesses, with bank accounts in the millions.  A simple keystroke here, and a keystroke there, and the billing department would send money to an account, where the money then disappeared down thousands of funnels.  Then when the time was right, a deposit would show up at a bank, destined for a certain account.

The FBI had finally found him, but was scared to death of announcing it to the public.  If John Q. Public found out that a hero was arrested, there would be mayhem and madness in the streets.

--------------------------------------

The story hit the newsstands and the result was like a bomb went off.  AP had it, every news station and television station within 100 miles had a crew in town.  Thelma was loving the attention and had banned everyone from the jail office at the same time.  It was a power play. 

Every deputy was on duty, but they were sympathetic to this Robin Hood.  The FBI agents had been joined by at least a dozen more, but the crowds outside swelled by the hundreds every passing moment.  It seemed the public had found their hero, and was not about to allow him to be hanged.

At some point in the afternoon, the sheriff abandoned ship (promptly securing his reelection for many years to come), along with every deputy, leaving only the FBI agents.  A hasty conference with a FBI computer nerd or two, and they realized that their whole scope of investigation had suddenly grown very small.

Elsewhere in town, a secret handshake and a pat on the back was made, and suddenly a senator (who just happened to be going through town), was involved.  A phone call to this person, and that person, and suddenly before the FBI, a case that had looked so promising just 48 hours before vanished like smoke.

A quick press conference was arranged, and one lone FBI agent told the crowd that this modern day Robin Hood was set free.  And set free he was.

Quick as it started, it was over, and the crowd had their hero.

---------------------------------------------

And tonight, when I get home and on the computer, I think I will give this hero a raise at work.  After all, I know who the real Robin Hood is.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

SippinTea

Tee hee! You totally have enough stuff for a full-length novel on this one. Really. And I want to buy the first copy. :bigcheese: Autographed, please. :bigcheese: So I can say "I knew him when..." :bigcheese:

:beret:
"Not everything that is of God is easy." -Elona

"When you're wildly in love with someone, it changes everything." -F. Chan

"A real live hug anytime you want it is priceless." -Rachel

The Purple Fuzzy

He really has a gift for keeping your attention.  Good job, Jeremy.

sunlight

:grin: I agree with Ruby... Please!
  :attackhug: Be full of hugs!

okieoliveoyl

I was 100% cornfused until i went and re-read the top and realized this whole thing was gibberish.  In the back of my mind I knew you ate mexican (love mexican?) and eat at that place in Tulsa quite frequently, but I didn't realize how well you knew the owners so well.  AND... I didn't know we had a cousin named Marty (the IT guy???). HA!

otherwise...keep on writing. 
Gods Promise: "This to shall pass"  not "and it came to stay"

MelodyB

Haha! This last one was great! I agree with Ruby and Chel!
Have you slapped that one dude from Indiana with a pie in the face today? [br /]  [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h181/MelodyB99/Other/duckie-2.gif[/img]

mini

Based on true events.  :ugly:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

As some of you know, Pa had back surgery a few weeks ago.  Major deal, 5 hours in surgery, and countless prayers from us and others.

And now, after three weeks of recovery, stuck at home with Ma and the heathens kids she babysits, including but not limited to my kids, he is ready to get out of the house.  For anything.  Need to see if the grass is green?  Check.  If air is still invisible?  Check.  If cars still drive down the road?  Check.

He has been walking, trying his best to keep from going stir crazy.

So this morning, I get a call, and he wants a ride to work, to go "visit."  Which is a Pa speak for "I cant stand it here any more!"

So, I take him.

As I pull up to his work, I get a flash back to my first summer after high school.  He came to me one day with a offer.  A job working with him all summer.  It was a big thing for employees kids or kids who knew someone to get to work at this shop.  And it was 40 hours a week, M-F, 7am to 3:30pm.  Pay was $6 a hour, which was great, considering I was making $5ish a hour, and only getting 25 hours a week.  A summer full of work, a pocket full of money...what more could I ask for?

Part of my daily job duties was being the shop gopher.  You know, "Go fer this, Go fer that."  It was a job that I loved, considering it got me out of the shop for a hour a day, and I got to drive the shop work truck.

Now understand, the shop work truck was a huge, 1 ton dually Chevy.  It was old even by my standards, and had seen to many days at the hands of various drivers who thought "Its not mine, I don't have to take care of it."  It had a flat bed, with huge steel bed posts and rails, and weighed in at nearly 14 tons.  Which is ironic, considering a engineer at Chevy got paid to call it a 1 ton.  It had some tired V8, stick shift, and one huge problem.

It backfired.

Badly.

Every time you shifted from 2nd to 3rd, it would let out something that could only be described as wartime cannon fodder.  The truck was not fast, and I had a certain route that I took every day, depending on what was needed.  A few blocks from work was a small crest, and at the top of the crest was a street.  If I had to get propane for our many forklifts, I went straight instead of turning.

Going straight lead me right by the local YMCA walking path.  And I quickly learned the art of motivation.  I would time it right, make this behemoth of a truck backfire right as I passed by the path, and giggle uncontrollably as I ran the rest of my errands.

I am personally responsible for helping 14 lap records get set on that path.  Imagine, you are walking along, minding your own business, when "KABLOOOOOOOOM!" sounds off.  You, thinking the world has started WWIII, take off running like your life depends on it, and never look back.  This was before iPhones, iPods, Smartphones, and all that stuff.  You just had to rely on your senses, and not check FB to see who posted about it, or see if the news was reporting a bombing run over our small town.

Needless to say, I took great pride in the art of making this truck backfire on command.

However, this fateful day I had to turn at the top of that small crest.  Having turned there many times before, I knew precisely where my shift points were geographically. 

And right at that point, I saw a little old man walking to his mailbox.  In his baby blue boxers.  And in a white tank top.  He proudly shuffled along in his slippers and white crew socks.  Oh, did I mention he was leaning on a walker?

It was at that exact moment I decided that backfiring vehicles were not as fun as they were 5 seconds ago.

I knew I would have to shift right beside him.  I knew the truck would backfire.  I knew the results would be terrible.  In the moment where I saw him, and processed the thought about the backfire that was coming, I made a tragic mistake.

I hesitated on my shift patterns.  Somewhere in the dark place of my mind is a little man who is none too bright.  And he yelled, "Why dont you coast by the guy, then shift, that way the back fire wont bother him."  This sounded good, and thats what I decided to do.

To anyone that has driven a backfire prone vehicle, you understand my mistake.  I had allowed the gas vapors to build.

I coasted by him. 

He was not looking at me.

Then....I shifted.

KABLOOOOOMMMMEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Living in a small town, anything out of the ordinary quickly becomes coffee break news.  And the story of a war vet that went nuts (while wearing his boxers and a white tank top no less), thought his walker was a 4 barreled gun, and the embellishment of the fact that it took 3 police officers, a nurse,  a fire truck (I still dont understand why they were called), a division of the National Guard, and a WWII actor to get this war vet settled down was simply to much.  Folks laughed about it for days.

Mr Johnson has went on to meet his maker now, but I will never forget him.  Or the day that I made him local news while he was wearing baby blue boxers and a white tank top.
DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

The Purple Fuzzy


Lynx

In the words of a certain late computer company CEO...  Boom.
"Do you sing at church?"[br /]"Yes I sing at church, I sing at home, at work, in the car, at the supermarket, at Wal-Mart..."[br /]:sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing: :sing:

MelodyB

Have you slapped that one dude from Indiana with a pie in the face today? [br /]  [IMG]http://i64.photobucket.com/albums/h181/MelodyB99/Other/duckie-2.gif[/img]

Melody

That is priceless.  Love it!

The Purple Fuzzy


mini

DISCLAIMER: All rights reserved. Meant for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Not necessarily the view of this website. This supersedes all previous notices.

I wonder if we made a wax figure of Mini, and then melted it, if we'd get Roscoe... -MellerYeller

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