I Swear This is Not a BOMB

Those of you that know me know that I enjoy striking fear into the hearts of mortals, that is to say, I enjoy scaring people.  Over the years I have become quite good at it, though at times it has been entirely unintentional.  Several weeks back I visited the apartment of a friend and as I exited the elevator I happened to hear him unlocking the door of his apartment; assuming he had heard the elevator open I just stood at the door of his apartment.  When he opened the door his head was turned back towards the interior of the apartment as he talked to somebody inside.  He was so startled when he turned and saw me standing there that I could barely conceal my inward glee.

On numerous occasions I had startled Leslie in a similar manner and I always get yelled at that I am too quiet.  All this to say that, last weekend I had the opportunity to play one of the greatest pranks of all time on my cousin.  My cousin was coming down from Ft. Campbell to visit Leslie and I before we headed out west for my next assignment, and I knew he would be arriving sometime later in the evening on Thursday.  It just so happened that earlier in the week I stumbled across a fake tiger rug in my mom’s basement.  This rug, complete with a molded Styrofoam head had a depression in the base of the skull that perfectly fit over my own head meaning that I could wear this rug and when I got down on all fours it made a fairly convincing tiger… or at least it did at night when I was partially hidden in the bushes and emitting a growl that has caused 9th grade boys to cower under their beds in fear.


Thursday morning I sent a text message to my cousin concerning an item I had just seen on the local news about an escaped tiger.  With that bait set I impatiently made my way through the rest of the day.  As dark approached I called the security guard at the entrance to the neighborhood and requested that he let me know when my cousin passed through the gate.  Satisfied that the trap was perfectly set I waited.  Turns out this final bit was also my undoing since the security guard gave up the jig when he announced to my cousin he (the guard) was supposed to call up to the house when he (my cousin) arrived.  I had the opportunity to scare the living daylights out of my cousin but ultimately I was foiled by a well-intentioned security guard.

I’m not certain how much longer I’ll be around to write these newsletters since my activities over the past few days have probably lit up the boards of every TERRORIST watch list known to man.  Let me back up a bit.  Tuesday, I FLEW into Houston with the intent of spending the next five days making a tour of the major cities in Texas in order to purchase a new home, i.e. a camper.  I was actually looking forward to all the driving since the car that Hertz gave me was a limited edition Mustang built for racing, hitting the accelerator in this thing felt like having a MISSILE strapped to the back.  Anyway, I hadn’t even been in Houston for 12 hours and I had already found and made a deal to purchase a camper.  I never imagined finding something so quickly, I felt like my head was going to EXPLODE.  I was really getting the PRESIDENTIAL treatment.

I was purchasing the camper from a private party; however, he still owed money on it so his bank held the title.  I had originally intended to show up with a cashier’s check, but was informed by his bank that because of numerous issues with fraud they would have to wait 5-10 business days for the check to clear before they would release the title.  The only way they would release the title immediately is if I could wire the money to them or pay cash for it.  As fishy as the wire story got I can only imagine what it would have looked like showing up with this much cash in hand… straight from a terrorist charge to drug trafficking.  Long story short, I had to open a new account with a local bank so that my own bank could wire me the money via a telephone call.  I then wired the money from my new bank account to the bank of the person I was buying the camper from.  I then closed the account that I had just opened at the local bank.  If you think that sounds confusing and suspicious trust me, the whole story is even more so.  One defunded bank account and two wire transfers later I am the proud owner of a new camper… I think.

Now, what is really amusing is that every single recipient of this newsletter/reader of my blog has probably now been flagged by the appropriate governmental agencies as suspected terrorists.  You’re welcome.


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