Chronicles of a Baby-Smuggler
You're cruising west along I-70 in your blue '91 Chrysler LeBaron, plying your ancient but illegal trade - that of baby smuggling. That's right. You've got three of them in the trunk. White ones with glorious blonde hair and beaming blue eyes. They'll easily fetch $25,000 a piece in Beijing. "It's a living," you constantly tell yourself.
Anyway, it's late. An unworldly full moon looms high in the clear night sky. It bathes the road and surrounding countryside in it's eerie green glow. You're somewhere in the middle of the vast expanse of endless banality we call Ohio - or the entire Midwest, for that matter. Actually, after traversing the endless web of interstates that criss-cross this country like some kind of mad scientist's stitchings on a bloated corpse, you can't help but feel that all of America is nothing more than one boring barrage of McDonalds, Chevrons, and Taco Bells with the occasional Motel 6 or Holiday Inn springing up from time to time like an anooying in-law.Or whatever. But that's all about to change.
You see, just as you're about to give in and call it a day at one of those Holiday Inns or Motel 6s we were just talking about (I really need you to pay attention), a dark shape leaps in front of your vehicle's path at the last second! You frantically press on the brakes but it's far too late. Your entire body shudders violently and your windshield is smashed into oblivion as the figure bounces off of your bumper and lands in the passenger seat of your car. You finally screech to a grinding halt. After the shock of the moment releases it's iron grip on your mind, you manage to crane your sore neck and gaze at the now not-so-empty passenger seat. "Jesus tits!" you gasp. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head in stark confusion. "It's the Pope!"
That's right. And he's even in full ceremonial attire. You really @#!&ed up this time, buddy. High in the Heavens above, Angels are crying sad tears.
Well, genius, what now?
Anyway, it's late. An unworldly full moon looms high in the clear night sky. It bathes the road and surrounding countryside in it's eerie green glow. You're somewhere in the middle of the vast expanse of endless banality we call Ohio - or the entire Midwest, for that matter. Actually, after traversing the endless web of interstates that criss-cross this country like some kind of mad scientist's stitchings on a bloated corpse, you can't help but feel that all of America is nothing more than one boring barrage of McDonalds, Chevrons, and Taco Bells with the occasional Motel 6 or Holiday Inn springing up from time to time like an anooying in-law.Or whatever. But that's all about to change.
You see, just as you're about to give in and call it a day at one of those Holiday Inns or Motel 6s we were just talking about (I really need you to pay attention), a dark shape leaps in front of your vehicle's path at the last second! You frantically press on the brakes but it's far too late. Your entire body shudders violently and your windshield is smashed into oblivion as the figure bounces off of your bumper and lands in the passenger seat of your car. You finally screech to a grinding halt. After the shock of the moment releases it's iron grip on your mind, you manage to crane your sore neck and gaze at the now not-so-empty passenger seat. "Jesus tits!" you gasp. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head in stark confusion. "It's the Pope!"
That's right. And he's even in full ceremonial attire. You really @#!&ed up this time, buddy. High in the Heavens above, Angels are crying sad tears.
Well, genius, what now?