Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Roaming charges way up...
Major blue funk goin on here!
All three members of the SAS Emergency Response Team crash-landed far short of the runway after SAS's last accidental fartbomb release: good news is they all survived the explosion, and that ballistic ascent into the strasphere, their non-ballistic descent, and then harsh landings for all; bad news is the roaming charges from all three cell-phoning home to say, "I'm ok."
Quoting Secret Attack Squirrel now: "Being grounded while my ERT works their way homeward is bad enough, but these roaming charges...too much."---thus this deep blue funk pervading SAS G-HQ.
Still, there was one moment of levity when Black Jack Brisco came by G-HQ with the temerity to yeowl up & ask for a rub-down, "I'm hurtin' all over," said he, adding, "and my mange is cleared up, so you needn't worry about cross-contamination."
Guffaws & belly-laughs were numberous, only to be bruskly stifled when Black Jack started clawing his way up the G-HQ tree...indeed, everyone here was seized with fear: Secret's appetite has been off since eating all that rotten chili and so, try as he did, he could not muster the gas for even one fartbomb with which to defent us, ergo we were all at Brisco's mercy...all but the ERT, who are still at large and scattered at undisclosed locations around the western hemisphere.
But wonder of wonders, Black Jack Brisco was in no mood to fight, nor hungry for squirrel meat: upon squeezing into the hanger-bay, he even graciously declined our peace-offering of grape-nuts with horse-radish hors d'oeuvres, saying, "No thanks, I grabbed a bite on the way down from that globe-trot just a few minutes ago--a couple of sea gulls at a thousand feet, a dozen or so blackbirds from 500 on down. So how's Secret doin'? Heard from him yet?"
"I'm right here, Blackie."
The SAS G-HQ was instantly evacuted, leaving Secret Attack Squirrel and Black Jack Brisco behind, alone together in the hanger-bay, circling each other warily. I'll let-cha know what develops, as it develops, although it bears noting that this reporter's veiw is somewhat obscured by a tree-lined distance of three tree-lined city blocks.
?
All three members of the SAS Emergency Response Team crash-landed far short of the runway after SAS's last accidental fartbomb release: good news is they all survived the explosion, and that ballistic ascent into the strasphere, their non-ballistic descent, and then harsh landings for all; bad news is the roaming charges from all three cell-phoning home to say, "I'm ok."
Quoting Secret Attack Squirrel now: "Being grounded while my ERT works their way homeward is bad enough, but these roaming charges...too much."---thus this deep blue funk pervading SAS G-HQ.
Still, there was one moment of levity when Black Jack Brisco came by G-HQ with the temerity to yeowl up & ask for a rub-down, "I'm hurtin' all over," said he, adding, "and my mange is cleared up, so you needn't worry about cross-contamination."
Guffaws & belly-laughs were numberous, only to be bruskly stifled when Black Jack started clawing his way up the G-HQ tree...indeed, everyone here was seized with fear: Secret's appetite has been off since eating all that rotten chili and so, try as he did, he could not muster the gas for even one fartbomb with which to defent us, ergo we were all at Brisco's mercy...all but the ERT, who are still at large and scattered at undisclosed locations around the western hemisphere.
But wonder of wonders, Black Jack Brisco was in no mood to fight, nor hungry for squirrel meat: upon squeezing into the hanger-bay, he even graciously declined our peace-offering of grape-nuts with horse-radish hors d'oeuvres, saying, "No thanks, I grabbed a bite on the way down from that globe-trot just a few minutes ago--a couple of sea gulls at a thousand feet, a dozen or so blackbirds from 500 on down. So how's Secret doin'? Heard from him yet?"
"I'm right here, Blackie."
The SAS G-HQ was instantly evacuted, leaving Secret Attack Squirrel and Black Jack Brisco behind, alone together in the hanger-bay, circling each other warily. I'll let-cha know what develops, as it develops, although it bears noting that this reporter's veiw is somewhat obscured by a tree-lined distance of three tree-lined city blocks.
?
# posted by call me crazy @ 5:35 AM 
