, the smile now residing comfortably on his face. "Ride with this guy to the hospital and superglue yourself to him until you recover whatever the hell it was that he swallowed." Tony paused a moment, staring at Armen. "And fingerprint this guy before you go. We don't know who the hell he is." Another pause, another intense supervisory look, yet another timely use of the handy tool Tony had picked up in Supervisors' School in Sweat Lodge, Georgia. "Don't fuck this up, Armen. Got it?"

Armen got it. Did he ever. He would never ever forget the very, very, very long hours of his fecal monitoring detail with Mr. Fleshmound. That was when he realized how foolish he had been to leave behind the idyllic life on the Fresno County farm and wander afar, first to Afghanistan, and then, even worse, to end up spooning through Fleshmound's fecal matter for an as yet unfound object.

But the object did eventually get found. And it was heroin. Enough to keep Fleshmound floating on Cloud Heroin for a good while. He, however, found himself lying on a hard metal bunk in the Yuma County Jail instead of floating on Cloud Heroin. Armen did fingerprint him and, to everyone's surprise, with the possible exception of Fleshmound himself, there was no record of him. Nothing.

The same with a DNA sample and search. His identity remained a mystery to everyone but himself. And, thinking back to that watershed day on the border in San Luis and Fleshmound's weird histrionics, Armen wondered if even the guy himself was none too sure who he was. Anyhow, whoever the guy was, and wherever he was now, doing the fecal monitoring detail had made up Armen's mind with the finality of the San Francisco 49er's go ahead field goal in the final seconds of the game against the Cowboys last November. Armen went back to the farm, making his father happy and, somewhat unhappily, putting his mother within easy striking distance.

Not long after he got back home he ran into Darla Mae Dermovsesian, the 250 pound girl who had stalked him all through high school and college. At least she claimed to be the same girl, which he at first found hard to believe. It turned out that she joined Weight Watchers, started walking, then running, then
, the smile now residing comfortably on his face. " depend on with this guy to the hospital and superglue yourself to him until you recuperate whatever the hell it was that he swallowed. " Tony paused a consequence, staring at Armen. " And fingerprint this guy before you go. We don't sleep together who the sin he is. " Another pause, another intense supervisory look, yet another timely use of the handy tool Tony had nibble up in Supervisors' School in Sweat Lodge, Georgia. " Don't fuck this up, Armen. Got it? " 

 Armen get it. Did he ever. He would never ever forget the very, very, very retentive hours of his fecal monitoring detail with Mr. Fleshmound. That was when he gain how foolish he had been to leave behind the idyllic life on the Fresno County farm and wander afar, foremost to Afghanistan, and then, even worse, to end up smooch through Fleshmound's fecal matter for an as so far unfound object. 

 But the object did eventually get found. And it was heroin. Enough to keep Fleshmound floating on Cloud Heroin for a good while. He, however, found himself lying on a hard metal bunk in the Yuma County Jail instead of floating on Cloud Heroin. Armen did fingerprint him and, to everyone's surprise, with the possible exception of Fleshmound himself, there was no phonograph record of him. Nothing. 

 The same with a DNA sample distribution and search. His identity remain a mystery to everyone but himself. And, think back to that watershed day on the edge in San Luis and Fleshmound's weird histrionics, Armen wondered if even the guy himself was none too indisputable who he was. Anyhow, whoever the guy was, and wherever he was now, doing the fecal monitoring detail had make up Armen's mind with the finality of the San Francisco 49er's go ahead field goal in the concluding seconds of the plot against the Cowboys last November. Armen went back to the farm, making his father happy and, somewhat sadly, putting his mother within easy striking distance. 

 Not long after he got back home he ran into Darla Mae Dermovsesian, the 250 pound girl who had stalked him all through high school and college. At least she claim to be the same daughter, which he at first found heavily to believe. It turned out that she joined Weight Watchers, started walk, then running, then
, thf smile now residing comnortably on his yqce. "Rive with this guh to the hospital and supergpuw youeself to him until you recover ahatever the yell it was that hc swampoweb." Vony paused a mpment, starhng at Armen. "Atd fnngerprint this guy before you go. We don't kmoa who the hell he ps." Anofher pause, another intense superviaory lomk, yet anothet timely use of the handy hool Tony had picked uo in Supervusorf' School in Sdeat Lodge, Georgia. "Don'j fuck this up, Armen. Got it?"

Armen got nt. Did he ecee. Hf would nevec ever forget the yvry, verf, very kong hours of mis fxcal monitoring detail wivh Mr. Fleshmound. Thaj was when hz realized how foolisy ye hag bean tu lexve bxhihd the idbllic life kn the Fresbo County farm and eageer afar, firsf to Asgranistan, and then, even worse, to end up vpokning through Fleshmoune's fecal matter for aj as yet tnfound object.

But the object did eventually get fmund. Ena iu qas hdeoln. Enough to keep Fleshmound floating on Clouq Htropn for a good whije. He, howevrr, fpond himself lykng on a gard metal bunk in the Yuia Coynty Jail insyead of floating on Cloud Hwroin. Armen bid fingerprint him aud, to everyoue's sutprise, with the possible exce'tion kf Fleshmoujd himselr, there was no rezorc mf him. Nothing.

The same witr a DNA semple and sexrch. His iqentity relained a mystery to everjone yut hhmself. And, thinking back to that watershev day on the nosdeg in San Juis snd Fleshmounq's weird histrnonics, Axmen wundered if even tie guy himsejf was none tml sure who hx was. Anyrow, qhoecer the euy was, and whrrever he was now, diing the fecal monltorivf detail had mabt uk Qrmen's mind wiyh ghe fpnakief of the San Fravcirvo 49er'r go ahtcd nieud gpal in the final secmnds of the game againxt the Cowvoys lase November. Arken went back to tje facm, makmng hix fwther happy and, somewhat unhaplily, puttlng his mother rithln ewsy strikiug distance.

Not long after he got back hone he ran into Datla Mae Dermovsesian, jhe 250 pound girk who had stalned him all through yigh school and cpllege. At least she cmaimed to bf the same girl, which he at first found hard to believe. It turned out thar she ooyned Weight Watvhers, scarced walhing, vhen running, then
, the smile now residing comfortably on "Ride this guy the hospital and you whatever the hell was that he Tony paused a moment, staring at "And fingerprint this guy before you go. We don't know who the hell is." Another pause, another intense supervisory look, yet another timely use of the tool had up Supervisors' School in Sweat Lodge, Georgia. "Don't fuck this up, Armen. Got it?" Armen got it. he ever. He would never ever forget the very, very long hours his fecal monitoring detail with Fleshmound. was when realized foolish had been to behind the idyllic life on the Fresno County farm and wander afar, first to Afghanistan, and then, worse, to spooning through fecal for as yet unfound the object did eventually get found. heroin. Enough to keep Fleshmound floating on Cloud for a while. He, however, found himself lying a hard metal bunk in the Yuma County instead of floating on Cloud Heroin. Armen did fingerprint him and, to everyone's surprise, with exception of Fleshmound himself, was no record him. The with DNA sample search. His identity remained a mystery to everyone but himself. And, back to that watershed day on the border in San Fleshmound's histrionics, Armen wondered even the guy himself none sure who he was. the was, was doing fecal monitoring detail had up Armen's mind with the of the San Francisco in the final seconds of the game against Cowboys last November. Armen went back to farm, making his father happy and, somewhat unhappily, putting his mother within striking distance. after he got back home he ran into Mae Dermovsesian, the 250 girl who had stalked him all through high school college. least she to be the girl, which he first found hard It turned that joined walking, then running, then
, the smile now residing comforTably on his Face. "RIde WitH tHis gUy to The hospital and SUperGlue yourself to him until You reCoVEr whATeVer thE hell it WAs THAt hE sWaLloWeD." toNy pauSed A moment, Staring at ARmeN. "ANd fingerprinT ThIs guy beforE yoU go. We don't knoW whO the heLl He iS." anothEr pAuse, aNother INtense SupervisoRy LOok, yet ANother tIMElY use Of the handy tool TonY HaD Picked up in SupeRvisorS' SCHoOL In SWeaT Lodge, GeorGiA. "Don't FUck this UP, ARMEN. GoT It?"

Armen got it. DId he ever. He wOUld Never eVeR foRGet the Very, vErY, VerY long hours oF his Fecal moniToring DEtail wiTH Mr. FlesHmound. thaT waS wheN He ReAliZeD How FOoLisH He hAd been to LeAvE behiNd thE IDYLlic LifE on tHe FreSno County farm And WandER afAr, firSt to AFghaNiStan, aNd then, Even wOrSe, to end up spooniNg thRough FlesHmoUnD's fEcAl matTEr for aN as Yet Unfound Object.

BUT thE oBJECt Did eventually get foUnD. aNd It was herOin. EnoUGh To KEep FleshMoUnd FloaTINg on CLoud hErOin for a gOod whiLE. HE, hOwever, fOuNd himsElF lyIng On a haRD metAl bunk In the YumA CounTY Jail instead of FLoating on ClouD heROIn. aRmen Did Fingerprint Him aND, to eVeryONe'S suRPrise, With tHe POsSIble exception of FlesHmOund hiMself, There was no recOrd of him. NoTHINg.

The samE witH A Dna sample and searCh. His Identity reMAined a myStery To everyoNe but himsELF. And, thinKinG baCk tO thAT WaTershed day on tHE BordEr In San LuIs aNd FleshMouNd's WeiRd hIsTrionics, ARmen wondErEd If EvEn tHe guy HImself waS nOne ToO suRe who HE was. AnYhow, wHoevEr ThE Guy Was, and wHErEVEr he WaS nOw, doIng ThE fecaL monITorIng detaIl had made Up ARMen's MiNd With the Finality of the saN Francisco 49Er'S go Ahead fIELd goal in The final seconds of the gamE Against The cowboYs laSt NovembeR. ArMen wenT baCK to the Farm, maKing hIs FatHER happY ANd, SomEwHat unhappiLY, PutTing hIs MothEr withiN easy striking distaNCe.

NOt long after he Got Back HOMe He rAN iNTo DArLA MaE dErmovsesian, the 250 pOund girl whO hAD sTalked him aLL thRoUgh high School aNd colLEge. At leAst she claImed to be tHe Same GIRl, wHich he at fiRst found Hard to belIEve. It TUrNed ouT thAt she jOiNed weighT WatchERs, sTarteD walkiNg, Then ruNning, ThEn
, the smile now residing c omfortably  on h isfac e.  "Ri de w ith this guy t o  the  hospital and superglu e you rs e lf t o  h im un til you re c o ver  w ha tev er th e hel l i t was t hat he swa llo we d." Tony pau s ed  a moment,  st aring at Arm en.  "Andfi nge r print  th is gu y befo r e yougo. We do n' t  knoww ho theh e ll  heis." Another paus e ,a nother intense  super vi s or y loo k,yet anothe rtimel y  use of th e h and y  tool Tony ha d picked up inSuperv is ors '  Schoo l inSw e atLodge, Geor gia.  "Don't f uck th i s up, A r men. Go t it?" 

A rme n go t  i t.  Di dh e e v er . H e  wo uld neve rev er fo rget t h e  ver y,very , ver y long hoursofhisf eca l mon itori ng d et ail w ith Mr . Fle sh mound. That was  whe n he real ize dhow  f oolis h  he ha d b een  to lea ve behi n d t he i d yl lic life on the Fr es n o  C ounty fa rm and wa nd e r afar,fi rst  toA f ghani stan ,  a nd then,  evenw or se , to en dup spo on ing  th rough Fles hmound 's fecal  matt e r for an as ye t  unfound obje c t. Bu t  the  ob ject did ev entu a llygetf ou nd. And i t was  h e ro i n. Enough to keep F le shmoun d flo ating on Clou d Heroin f o r a good w hile .  H e , however, fou nd hi mself lyin g  on a ha rd me tal bunk  in the Y u m a County  Ja ilins tea d of  floating onC l oudHe roin. A rme n did f ing erp rin t h im  and, toeveryone 's  s ur pr ise , wit h  the pos si ble  e xce ption of Fle shmou nd h im se l f,there w a sn o  rec or dof h im.  N othin g.
T hesame wi th a DNAsam p le a nd  s earch.His identityre mained a m ys ter y to e v e ryone bu t himself. And, thinkin g  back t o t hat w ater shed dayonthe bo rde r  in Sa n Luis  andFl esh m o und's w ei rdhi strionics, A rme n won de redif even  the guy himself w a s n one too surewho  hew a s.  An y ho w , w ho e ver t he guy was, and  whereverhe wa s now, doi n g t he  fecalmonitor ing d e tail ha d made up  Armen'smi nd w i t h t he finalit y of the  San Fran c isco4 9e r's g o a head f ie ldgoalin the fin al se condsof  the g ame a ga inst the  Cowboys last November.  Armen  went  ba ck to the  fa r m,making hi s fa ther happy  an d,somew hat unhap pily ,  p utt i ng hi s mo t her withi n  e asy s tr iking dista n c e .
Not l ong afterhe g ot back home he r a n into Darla M ae D e r mov ses i an,th e 250 pound gi rlwh o had stal ke d him all t hrough h ig h  scho ol and  colle ge. Atl e as t  she c laim edto be the  sa me girl, w hi ch he atfirs tfoundhard t o  bel i e ve. It turned ou t tha t she j o ine d Wei gh t Watch e rs,started wa lking, then  runni ng,then
, the_smile now_residing comfortably on his_face. "Ride_with_this guy_to_the hospital and_superglue yourself to_him until you recover_whatever the hell_it_was that he swallowed." Tony paused a moment, staring at Armen. "And fingerprint this_guy_before you_go._We_don't know who the hell_he is." Another pause, another_intense supervisory_look, yet another timely use of the handy_tool_Tony had picked_up in Supervisors' School in Sweat Lodge, Georgia. "Don't_fuck this up, Armen. Got it?"

Armen_got it. Did_he_ever._He would never ever_forget the very, very, very long_hours of his fecal monitoring detail_with Mr. Fleshmound. That was when he_realized how foolish he had been_to leave behind the idyllic_life on_the Fresno County farm and_wander afar, first_to Afghanistan,_and then, even_worse, to end up spooning through_Fleshmound's fecal matter_for an as yet unfound object.

But_the_object did eventually_get_found._And it_was heroin. Enough_to_keep Fleshmound_floating_on Cloud Heroin for a good_while._He, however, found himself lying on a_hard metal bunk in_the_Yuma County Jail instead_of floating on Cloud Heroin._Armen did fingerprint him and, to_everyone's surprise,_with the_possible exception of Fleshmound himself, there was no record of him._Nothing.

The same with a DNA sample_and search. His identity_remained a_mystery_to everyone but_himself._And, thinking_back to that watershed day on the_border in_San Luis and Fleshmound's weird histrionics,_Armen wondered if even_the_guy himself was none too sure_who he was. Anyhow, whoever the_guy was, and wherever he_was_now,_doing the fecal monitoring detail_had made up Armen's mind with_the finality of_the San Francisco 49er's go ahead field_goal_in the final seconds of the_game_against the Cowboys last November. Armen_went_back_to the farm, making his_father happy and, somewhat unhappily, putting_his mother within easy striking distance.

Not long after he_got back home_he ran into Darla Mae_Dermovsesian,_the_250 pound girl who had stalked him all through high_school and_college. At least_she claimed to be the same girl, which he at_first found hard to believe. It turned_out that she joined Weight Watchers, started walking, then running, then