Friday, July 25, 2008

the name's LENKA,... Lenka C

It might have looked like an innocent walk through the neighborhood on a sunny 96 degree day. But in reality it was a crucial covert reconnaissance mission to uncover the underground movements of the "lawn boys" at the corner of Louisianna Ave. & Demorie Dr...

...Being a highly trained professional, I have devoloped a very believable "street" persona. I am usually seen as a mild mannered, almost 40yr old, plain looking, woman who likes to train and work with dogs. For this particular mission, I have set my character up properly by obtaining a real customer who has hired me to work with her dog, Banjo the Wiemeraner. I have established a pattern of walking Banjo in the neighborhood on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So it didn't seem at all suspicious to anyone in the neighborhood that Banjo and I were out walking yesterday afternoon.

Here's how the mission went down:

Dressed in my shorts and tank top with a cute flippy pony tail, I walked down "Louisiana with Banjo @ my knee" (Hey, just because I'm a highly trained tactician doesn't mean I don't have a sense of humor!!) Anyway,...

... to all who saw us, it looked as if I didn't have a care in the world, boppin' along walkin' the dog. In reality however, I was carefully assessing the situation, recalling to mind every detail that I had catalouged on my previous forays into the neighborhood. And I noticed the things that didn't seem quite right on this particular evening. Odd things such as the dead chipmunk that was squashed flat on the road right next the the UN-squashed coke can, hmmm, something's fishy... and the leaves that were piled in the gutter in front of the yard that to all outward appearances looked carefully manicured, but whose owner had failed to weed eat around the AC unit, nobody misses the AC unit. Yes, my greatly enhanced 6th sense was telling my gut that this was the evening when something would happen.

As I approached the corner of Louisianna & Demorie, memory brought to focus the fact that I needed to remember the vicious fat yellow labrador that always rushes to the street in an attempt to rattle Banjo's cage, and I started to prepare myself for the massive HILL that we have to climb. As these thoughts were running through my mind, suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. THERE THEY WERE. THE LAWN BOYS OF DEMORIE DR. I had heard of these guys. They had the appearance of harmless southern boys, but the agency is certain that they have "other" things going on. And they played their parts well. There were two of them on riding lawn mowers, and one of had a weed eater. Neither of the Mowers had on shirts, and Mr. weed-eater had on a wife beater and sunglasses. I put on my best "chick with a dog and no worries in the world" look and turned the corner. I was still far enough away that all they could make out was "here comes a person with a dog", but being men, they focused on SHORTS, TANK TOP, and PONY TAIL. (they couldn't see the almost 40 yrs old and plain looking). There was much stretching of "muscles" and sucking in of guts, and Mr. weed eater adjusted his Dale Earnhardt JR. sunglasses about 50 times. The played their parts well, but Innocent Rednecks?, I THINK NOT. I realized that I was getting too close and that they would be able to recognize my face before too much longer and then my cover could be blown. So, keeping in mind the Fat LAB down the street, I averted my face to walk past without acknowledging the stretching, gut sucking and glass adjusting.

At that very moment, weed-eater guy revved up his machine, and Fat Lab jumped to the curb. Banjo lost his cool and dodged into my feet and I began to fall. Realizing that I was going down, and knowing that Southern Boys are Brainwashed to help any damsel in distress, so would be obliged to rush to my aid, my first thought was to SAVE THE MISSION!! In one swift motion I grabbed hold of Banjo's leash with my left hand, pulled a smoke bomb out of my pocket with my right hand, grasped the pin with my teeth and fell into the smoke. After quickly convincing Banjo that I really DIDN'T want to play, I checked myself for wounds and found only a nice case of road rash on my shin, two skinned palms, a broken watch crystal, and a pretty impressive cut on my left forarm. Nothing life threatening unless an infection was to set in, but I had been trained to fight through the pain, so I used the cover of wafting smoke to get away from the Lawn Boys before they could "make" me.

Obviously it worked, Banjo and I reappeared a little further down the road walking side by side as if nothing happened and the Lawn Boys didn't even appear to have seen a thing. Although when I looked back I noticed that they were planning their next mission which must involved something humourous because they were laughing their butts off.


My next mission is to find Jacque's friend Grace and kick her ass!!

No comments: