 confess to anything. Anything you want. Please! Just don't hit me again!" He jerked his body and tilted his head at the side of his body away from the camera where the blow allegedly fell, his ample mound of personhood nicely blocking the camera's view.

At that moment Armen was just about convinced he should have stayed on the farm and spread cow shit over the vineyards and orchards. It really wasn't so bad. Just so long as you used nose plugs and took a long hot shower afterwards with lots of soap. Though the odor still could linger and had screwed up more than one date with a promising hot young babe. Girls didn't much care for getting it on with a guy who smelled like cow shit. But there might be a solution. Find a girl from another farm who also spent her days spreading cow shit. The mutual odors would cancel each other out and open the door wide open to an evening's rollicking activities. And, the olfactory senses being what they are, without the daunting possibility of unwelcome spectators. Armen made a mental note to check it out when he got a chance.

"Oh, please, please, mister policeman," Fleshmound said, his voice wavering plaintively. "Please don't hit me again." Elvis looked at Melissa and winked. Just a little. But just enough so she could see.

"Melissa," Elvis said in a loud, theatric voice. "Go into the office and check the video recorder. We want to make real sure it is working." Then he gave a very big wink aimed at Mr. Fleshmound. "We sure wouldn't want to miss any of this perfectly legal and very professional search on the recorder." Another very big wink. "Right?"

"I'll go check it right away, Officer Mahoney," Melissa said, trying not to smirk at the...dare she say it?.....flummoxed expression on Mr. Fleshmound's face. In a little over a minute she was back.

"All clear, Elvis," she said with a big grin. "Absolutely clear." Tony Rivera wasn't the only one with beads of sweat popping on his forehead. They were popping up on Mr. Fleshmound, too. And not just on his forehead.

"You can drop the act now, buddy," Elvis said. "The recorder is shut off." Mr. Fleshmound wasn't done
confess to anything. Anything you want. Please! Just don't hit me again! " He twitch his soundbox and tilted his head at the side of his consistency away from the camera where the coke allegedly decrease, his ample mound of personhood nicely stuff the camera's view. 

 At that consequence Armen was just about convinced he should have bide on the farm and spread cow shit over the vineyards and orchards. It really wasn't so regretful. Just so long as you used nozzle plugs and took a long hot shower subsequently with lots of soap. Though the smell still could linger and had screwed up more than one date with a bright hot young babe. Girls didn't much care for getting it on with a guy who smack like cow damn. But there might be a solution. Find a girl from another farm who also spent her days spreading cow damn. The common odors would cancel each other out and unfold the door wide open to an evening's rollicking activities. And, the olfactory smell being what they are, without the daunting possibility of unwelcome spectators. Armen made a mental bill to check it out when he got a chance. 

 " Oh, please, please, mister policeman, " Fleshmound said, his voice wavering plaintively. " Please don't murder me again. " Elvis looked at Melissa and winked. Just a little. But barely enough so she could see. 

 " Melissa, " Elvis suppose in a brassy, theatric voice. " Go into the office and determine the video recorder. We want to make real sure it is working. " Then he gave a very adult wink aim at Mr. Fleshmound. " We sure wouldn't want to neglect any of this perfectly legal and very professional search on the recorder. " Another very big wink. " good? " 

 " I'll go match it right away, Officer Mahoney, " Melissa say, trying not to smirk at the... dare she say it?..... flummoxed expression on Mr. Fleshmound's face. In a little over a minute she was back. 

 " All clear, Elvis, " she said with a big smile. " Absolutely clear. " Tony Rivera wasn't the only one with bead of sweat popping on his forehead. They were popping up on Mr. Fleshmound, too. And not just on his forehead. 

 " You can shed the act now, buddy, " Elvis said. " The recorder is shut off. " Mr. Fleshmound wasn't done
 cojfess to anything. Anythikg you want. Please! Just don't git me aeain!" He jerked his body and viltwd hiw head at the side of fis body wway fron tht camera where thx blow allegedmn feln, his ample moukd of persothood nicely bnozknng the camera's view.

At that moment Awmen wax uust about condinctd re sgould have stayed on the farm and apread bow shit over the vineyards and orchards. It reaply wasn't so bad. Jkst so long as riu used nose plugs and took a long hot shower afterwards with lotr of xoap. Thougy rhe mdor still rould jinger and had screwad up mpre than one dste wirh a promising hot yonng babe. Girls didn't much cara yor getting it on wity q guy who smeuoed liie ckw shih. Bnt there mifht be a sooution. Find a girl grjn another farj who wlfo spent her days spreading cow shit. Tht muthal odors would cancel wach other out and opgn the doow wide open to an evening's rollicking activities. Dnd, tie olyqctorh sfnses being what they are, without the dauntind ppsxibility of uncelcome spectatots. Atien made a mevtal note to check it out wjen he dot a chance.

"Oh, plesse, please, mister policeman," Fleshmound fqid, his voice wavexing plaintirely. "Pkease don't hit me again." Elvir lokked at Mellssa and sknked. Just a litgle. Bgt just tvough so she coulq see.

"Meliwsa," Zlvis sakd im a lotd, theatrif voiga. "Go into the offife anb chewk the vidfo recorder. We want to make real sure it is wprninc." Then hz gave a very big wynk aimed at Mt. Fleshmobnd. "We sure woulsn't wanv to miss anr of this perxgctly legal aid very pwofewsiobal seafzh on the recotder." Anotktr very bit wink. "Right?"

"I'll go chgci it right away, Ofdicer Mahoney," Mrlirsa swiv, tryytg not to smhrk xt gne...dard she say ib?.....fljmmoced expression on Mr. Fleahmound's face. In a llttle ovet a minutq she was bacl.

"All clear, Elvis," sje samd witi a bib gtin. "Absolutely clear." Tony Riverz wasn't tje jnly one witr beqds of sweat popping on his forehead. They were poppmng up on Mr. Fleshmound, too. And not just ou mis forehead.

"Bou cag drop tha act now, buddy," Elviw said. "The recordtr is shut off." Mr. Fleshjound fasn't done
confess to anything. Anything you want. Please! hit again!" He his body and side his body away the camera where blow allegedly fell, his ample mound personhood nicely blocking the camera's view. At that moment Armen was just about he should have stayed on the farm and spread cow shit over the and It wasn't bad. Just so long as you used nose plugs and took a long hot shower afterwards lots of soap. Though the odor still could and had screwed up than one date with a hot babe. Girls much for it on with guy who smelled like cow shit. But there might be a solution. Find a girl from another who also days spreading shit. mutual would cancel each and open the door wide open rollicking activities. And, the olfactory senses being what are, without daunting possibility of unwelcome spectators. Armen a mental note to check it out when got a chance. "Oh, please, please, mister policeman," Fleshmound said, his voice wavering plaintively. "Please me again." Elvis looked Melissa and winked. a But enough she could "Melissa," Elvis said in a loud, theatric voice. "Go into the and check the video recorder. We want to make real is Then he gave very big wink aimed Mr. "We sure wouldn't want any this very search the recorder." Another very wink. "Right?" "I'll go check right away, Officer Mahoney," smirk at the...dare she say it?.....flummoxed expression on Fleshmound's face. In a little over a she was back. "All clear, Elvis," she said with a big grin. clear." Tony the only one with beads of sweat popping his forehead. They were up on Mr. Fleshmound, too. And not just on forehead. can drop act now, buddy," said. "The recorder shut off." Mr. done
 confess to anything. Anything You want. PleAse! JuSt dOn't HiT me aGain!" he jerked his bodY And tIlted his head at the side oF his bOdY Away FRoM the cAmera whERe THE blOw AlLegEdLY fEll, hiS amPle mounD of personhOod NiCely blocking THe Camera's vieW.

At That moment ArMen Was jusT aBouT ConviNceD he shOuld haVE stayeD on the farM aND spreaD Cow shit OVEr The vIneyards and orcharDS. IT Really wasn't so bAd. Just So LOnG AS yoU usEd nose plugS aNd tooK A long hoT ShOWER afTErwards with loTs of soap. ThoUGh tHe odor StIll COuld liNger aNd HAd sCrewed up morE thaN one date wIth a prOMising hOT young bAbe. GirLs dIdn'T mucH CaRe For GeTTinG It On wITh a Guy who smElLeD like Cow sHIT. bUt thEre MighT be a sOlution. Find a gIrl From ANotHer faRm who Also SpEnt heR days sPreadInG cow shit. The mutuAl odOrs would cAncEl EacH oTher oUT and opEn tHe dOor wide Open to aN EveNiNG'S RoLlicking activities. anD, THe OlfactorY senseS BeInG What they ArE, wiThouT THe dauNtinG PoSsibilitY of unwELcOmE spectaToRs. ArmeN mAde A meNtal nOTe to Check iT out when He got A Chance.

"Oh, please, PLease, mister poLIcEMAn," fLeshMouNd said, his voIce wAVeriNg plAInTivELy. "PleAse doN't HIt ME again." Elvis looked at meLissa aNd winKed. Just a littlE. But just enOUGH so she coUld sEE.

"MELissa," Elvis said In a loUd, theatric VOice. "Go inTo the Office anD check the VIDeo recorDer. we wAnt To mAKE rEal sure it is woRKIng." THeN he gave A veRy big wiNk aImeD at mr. FLeShmound. "We Sure woulDn'T wAnT tO miSs any OF this perFeCtlY lEgaL and vERy profEssioNal sEaRcH On tHe recorDEr." aNOtheR vErY big WinK. "RIght?"

"I'Ll go CHecK it righT away, OffiCer mAhonEy," meLissa saId, trying not to SmIrk at the...daRe She Say it?.....fLUMmoxed exPression on Mr. Fleshmound's FAce. In a lIttLe oveR a miNute she waS baCk.

"All cLeaR, elvis," sHe said With a BiG grIN. "absolUTElY clEaR." Tony RiverA WAsn'T the oNlY one With beaDs of sweat popping on HIs fOrehead. They weRe pOppiNG Up On MR. flEShmOuND, toO. aNd not just on his fOrehead.

"You CaN DrOp the act noW, BudDy," elvis saId. "The reCordeR Is shut oFf." Mr. FleshMound wasn'T dOne
 confess to anything. Anyt hing you w ant.Ple ase !Just  don 't hit me agai n !" H e jerked his body andtilte dh is h e ad  at t he side of h isbo dy  aw ay fr om th e c amera w here the b low  a llegedly fel l ,his amplemou nd of person hoo d nice ly  bl o cking  th e cam era'sv iew.
At that m om e nt Arm e n was j u s tabou t convinced he sh o ul d  have stayed o n thefa r ma n d s pre ad cow shi tovert he vine y ar d s and orchards. Itreally wasn ' t s o bad.  J ust so lon g asyo u  us ed nose plu gs a nd took a  longh ot show e r after wardswit h l otso fso ap.  T h oug h  t heo dor  still c ou ld  ling er a n d h ad s cre wedup mo re than one d ate  wit h  apromi singhotyo ung b abe. G irlsdi dn't much careforgetting i t o nwit ha guy who sm ell edlike co w shit. But  t h e r emight be a solutio n. F in d a girl  froma no th e r farm w ho  al so s p e nt he r da y sspreadin g cows hi t.  The mu tu al odo rs  wo uld  canc e l ea ch oth er out a nd op e n the door wid e  open to an e v en i n g' s  rol lic king activi ties .  And , th e  o lfa c torysense sb ei n g what they are, wi th out th e dau nting possibi lity of un w e l come spe ctat o rs .  Armen made amenta l note toc heck itout w hen he g ot a chan c e .

"Oh,ple ase , p lea s e ,mister police m a n,"Fl eshmoun d s aid, hi s v oic e w ave ri ng plaint ively. " Pl ea se  d on' t hit me again ."  El vi s l ooked at Mel issaandwi nk e d.Just al it t l e. B ut  j usteno ug h soshec oul d see.
"Melissa ,"E lvis  s ai d in aloud, theatri cvoice. "Go  i nto  the o f f ice andcheck the video recorde r . We wa ntto ma ke r eal sureitis wor kin g ." The n he g ave a  v ery b ig wi n k  a ime dat Mr. Fle s h mou nd. " We  sur e would n't want to miss a n y o f this perfec tly  leg a l  a ndv er y  pr of e ssi o n al search on th e recorder ." An other very big  w ink. "R ight?"
"I'l l  go che ck it rig ht away,Of fice r Mah oney," Mel issa sai d, trying not t o  s mirkatthe... da reshe s ay it? . ... .flum moxedex pressi on on  M r. Flesh mound's face. In a litt le ove r a m inu te she wa s b a ck. 

"All cl ear,  Elvis," s hesai d wit h a big g rin. "A bso l utely  cle a r." TonyR iv era w as n't the onl y o newithbea d s of s weat  popping on his f o rehead. They w erep o ppi ngu p on  M r. Fleshmound,  to o. A nd not j us t on his fo rehead.
" Y ou ca n drop  the a ct now, b ud d y," El vissai d. "The r eco rd e r is sh ut  o f f." Mr . Fl es hmound  wasn' t  don e 
 confess_to anything._Anything you want. Please!_Just don't_hit_me again!"_He_jerked his body_and tilted his_head at the side_of his body_away_from the camera where the blow allegedly fell, his ample mound of personhood nicely_blocking_the camera's_view.

At_that_moment Armen was just about_convinced he should have stayed_on the_farm and spread cow shit over the vineyards_and_orchards. It really_wasn't so bad. Just so long as you used_nose plugs and took a long_hot shower afterwards_with_lots_of soap. Though the_odor still could linger and had_screwed up more than one date_with a promising hot young babe. Girls_didn't much care for getting it_on with a guy who_smelled like_cow shit. But there might_be a solution._Find a_girl from another_farm who also spent her days_spreading cow shit._The mutual odors would cancel each_other_out and open_the_door_wide open_to an evening's_rollicking_activities. And,_the_olfactory senses being what they are,_without_the daunting possibility of unwelcome spectators. Armen_made a mental note_to_check it out when_he got a chance.

"Oh, please,_please, mister policeman," Fleshmound said, his_voice wavering_plaintively. "Please_don't hit me again." Elvis looked at Melissa and winked. Just_a little. But just enough so_she could see.

"Melissa," Elvis_said in_a_loud, theatric voice._"Go_into the_office and check the video recorder. We_want to_make real sure it is working."_Then he gave a_very_big wink aimed at Mr. Fleshmound._"We sure wouldn't want to miss_any of this perfectly legal_and_very_professional search on the recorder."_Another very big wink. "Right?"

"I'll go_check it right_away, Officer Mahoney," Melissa said, trying not_to_smirk at the...dare she say it?.....flummoxed_expression_on Mr. Fleshmound's face. In a_little_over_a minute she was back.

"All_clear, Elvis," she said with a_big grin. "Absolutely clear." Tony Rivera wasn't the only_one with beads_of sweat popping on his_forehead._They_were popping up on Mr. Fleshmound, too. And not just_on his_forehead.

"You can drop_the act now, buddy," Elvis said. "The recorder is shut_off." Mr. Fleshmound wasn't done