“Oh Loo-ooh-miss…” Loomis Reader was in absolive’ly, desiteeve-ly NO mood for pranks or jokes. Here he lies, sweating in this cheesy little cell of Fayetteville Trooper Compound, near– What? Fort Bragg, is it?
Yuh could just hear the groans of drunken Jarheads languishing elsewhere in this boho-fvilleo a lockup. But wait, this here siren sound is vaguely familiar–
“Huh! ‘Dat You, Lyndsey, How th’–f—?”
“Psst! Shh, Loomie. Believe in the power of pneumatic tubing and plain old pipes__”
“Lyndsey,” he snarled. “Hold that thought, ‘cos I’ve been communicating thru our local “Gomer,” here, that the Lieutenant Governor is comin’ this way, and he’s a sucker fer’a certain song–”
“You mean I don’t have to pass the sugar in my girdle to the truck-drivin’ girl guardwho’s sweet on me and–”
Loomis screwed up nearly all his features into a rictus of disgust, peering into an imaginary wide-angle lens. “Certainly NOT, lady. Don’t even begin to think. Jist look at whut’s left of yer Akash’ hand tattoo and PRAY yuh tail off!
Thus, Loomis sang “STAND BY ME,”(in full part harmony with the Guards’ Chorus of Fayetteville)for the beaming, crewcut Lieut. Gov and thirty-six hours thence the pair were off in a Lincoln Town Car limo with police and DHS escort to the edge of New Orleans, USA!
(To be Concluded!)
