(no subject)
You are all under arrest, the megaphone said.
Pete Limpelli, sopping wet and drooping after being dragged along the surface of Lake Me at an estimated twenty four knots by Goliath, the cryptid 800 pound catfish looked up and squinted through his glasses. Arrest? What the fuck is all this? Hadn’t he okayed it will Bill Badalamente in Youngstown?
Henge cranked his water cannon, futilely, into the brown surface of the lake - not really knowing what else to do.
Ed Groat heard the faint megaphone klaxon, but shook his head, thinking it was some somebitches from the college messing around.
Carmine cleared out the old Dodge Ram van from under the canopy of branch cuttings he had made.
William Comparetto
© 2007