Wacky Misadventures Ahoy!
In compliance with Dan's request, I had a wacky misadventure. Here is how it went down:
I walked out the front door, and was snagged in the tail feathers of a low-flying condor. There is a family of condors that nests on the ledge of the synagogue, waiting for nursery school children and unexpecting Bar Mitzvah families to wander by. The condors are attracted to the yarmulkes, and swoop down for an easy meal for their young. Anyway, I was carrying my lucky saddle, and used it to ride the condor around downtown DC. Unfortunately, I flew too close to the White House, and was shot down in accordance to the new Patriot Act guidelines, which state that any living thing too close to the range of Bush's vision can be shot on sight. I managed to escape the raging Texan and escape into the dense brush surrounding Pennsylvania Avenue. I hitchhiked back to Virginia with a friendly school bus driver named Mitch who smelled like cold cut sandwiches and cheap whiskey. On the way, Mitch told me how he was a veteran of the War of 1812, and had been living in a state of cryogenic bliss for 187 years until someone tripped on the plug and caused him to thaw. Having no skills, per se, and being completely illiterate, and also suffering from a bad case of yellow fever, the only job he was qualified for was in mass transportation. This was all very boring, so I got off at the next available location, which happened to be here. I walked back in, a little scratched up but really no worse for the wear, and wrote about it for you.
It's a good thing Dan asked me to post about a wacky misadventure, or else I would have had no outlet with which to tell this rather crazy story.
I walked out the front door, and was snagged in the tail feathers of a low-flying condor. There is a family of condors that nests on the ledge of the synagogue, waiting for nursery school children and unexpecting Bar Mitzvah families to wander by. The condors are attracted to the yarmulkes, and swoop down for an easy meal for their young. Anyway, I was carrying my lucky saddle, and used it to ride the condor around downtown DC. Unfortunately, I flew too close to the White House, and was shot down in accordance to the new Patriot Act guidelines, which state that any living thing too close to the range of Bush's vision can be shot on sight. I managed to escape the raging Texan and escape into the dense brush surrounding Pennsylvania Avenue. I hitchhiked back to Virginia with a friendly school bus driver named Mitch who smelled like cold cut sandwiches and cheap whiskey. On the way, Mitch told me how he was a veteran of the War of 1812, and had been living in a state of cryogenic bliss for 187 years until someone tripped on the plug and caused him to thaw. Having no skills, per se, and being completely illiterate, and also suffering from a bad case of yellow fever, the only job he was qualified for was in mass transportation. This was all very boring, so I got off at the next available location, which happened to be here. I walked back in, a little scratched up but really no worse for the wear, and wrote about it for you.
It's a good thing Dan asked me to post about a wacky misadventure, or else I would have had no outlet with which to tell this rather crazy story.
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