Well Charlie, you have part of the story right, but much like Fox News I'm afraid there are a few mistatements in your Sudafed-induced report that are inaccurate and I feel I must clear them up. . .
Yes I did see an opportunity to do my patriotic chore and secure a truck load of NyQuil that had been left unguarded less it fall into enemy hands. . . but my employees had nothing to do with it because as usual they were in the Wal Mart break room sleeping rather then working, and they would never "flip me the bird" because they know I'd then not pay them their $1 a day for working. .
So when I was behind the Wal Mart store looking for dropped pennies to make that day's payroll and came upon the abandoned NyQuil truck, I was on my own. Of course I grasped the gravity of the situation immediately, and whipped out my cell phone and made a call to Dan Murphy to get some guidence on how to proceed. . . but Dan had "Casey Jones" playing so loud in the background he couldn't hear what I was saying, and the only reply I got was some giggling and the gurgling sound of a bong. .
No help there; so I jumped in the truck and drove it around the front of building and parked it, which I knew would be enough to confuse any Wal Mart employee, and arranged to meet Dec99 at the "Ruby Tuesdays" in front of the Wal Mart. .
Chris showed up with her daughter Brit, and I explained the dilema over buffalo wings and strong drink. At first Chris wasn't much more help then Dan; she was much more interested in slamming shots of Tequila and calling her bookie every few minutes to place bets on the NCAA ganes, but right after threateneing the waiter with a broken water glass and demanding more booze and before she passed out, she looked up and said; "You know what's youse need . . Rum. . "
As I slipped out of the joint in the confusion to avoid paying the tab, I pondered her cryptic message. . was she telling me to switch to rum? Was she suggesting a card game? I leaned on the hijacked truck and racked my brain trying to figure it out, and absent-mindedly cracked open a fresh bottle of the Big Q and took a sip, and like Popeye and his spinach, it immediately cleared my mind and I knew what she meant; so I made the call.. .
"Hello, talk fast I'm a busy man. . "
"Don? This is WillyJ. . I've got a problem here and. . "
"WillyJ.? I don't know any WillyJ! Stop wasting my time!"
"C'mon Don. . save your filthy lies for the congress. It's me. . or don't you remember "Operation Corn" and your part in it? I'm sure Geraldo would be interested in the documents I have. . "
"Wait!! Okay. . what do you need?"
So I explained the situation, and 2 hours later a long black sedan pulled up next to the hijacked truck, and out stepped my old buddy; Donald Rumsfeld. . .
He gave my hand a quick shake and immediately looked the truck over and sized up the situation. .
"I'm glad you called; if this were to fall into the wrong hands we could have a real disaster on our hands. . although I still don't see why any sane person would put that Green Death in their system."
"I'm not sure you want to be talking about other people's sanity old boy; have you pulled Bush's foot out of your hind-end yet over that crack about the British?"
He gave ne a steely gaze; "Ha, ha. . . laugh it up Corn Boy, but you'd never see me drink that stuff."
"You've never tried it?"
"Never"
"Don't you think you should? Whatever you decide to do here, Congress will want some answers and you might want to be able to tell them you know what the danger was. . besides, on television you've looked tense lately- this will calm your nerves."
Rumsfeld thought it over; I could tell he didn't like the idea, but he was an honorable man and he knew I was right. . so without another word he took the bottle of NyQuil out of my hand and took a long, deep drink. . .
The details are hazy now. . I remember at one point we crawled into the back of the truck and sat on the boxes of Big Q and ripped open new bottles at random, drained them, then flung them in the lot.
Then at some point Rumsfeld went nuts. . he stripped down to his underwear; ran into the Wal Mart store; scooped up some spray cans of paint; yelled "Look at me; I'm Jaques Chirac!!!" as he ran by the startled Wal Mart shoppers; and then painted "Make Corn Not War" on the front of store. .
He was laughing like a mad man when he got back to the truck and he jumped behind the wheel and ordered me to get in. . "We have work to do. . " I was apprehensive, but I owed him, so I did.
"Where we going?"
"Canada"
So as I write this I am hunkered down in a cheap motel in the slums of Toronto. . Rumsfeld is gone- he said he was going out for nachos 4 hours ago and never came back, and now I can see I was set up; wanted by numerous law enforcement agencies for a series of brutal grafitti crimes Rumsfeld committed. . .
I'll have to make a run for it soon and I have no clue how I'll get out back to Illinois and somehow clear my name. . . but I've been down this road before and I'll find a way. .
I am, after all, a professional. . .
