 those about to be born you were at the wrong end of the line. That's why you have shit for brains." This got everyone to chuckling. Even Mr. Fleshmound AKA FDR Chooljian. What? Fleshmound? A heroin suspect? Chuckling? So why not? True, he was in some trouble. But that didn't mean a guy couldn't have a chuckle or two to lighten things up some. Elvis--who was characterized by another ET buddy, the brainy and fluid tongued Native American U of A honors grad hotshot, Cletus 'War Whoop" Magellan, as "being genetically predisposed to jocularity"--did more than chuckle. He couldn't stifle his hilarity and slapped his sides and then grabbed his stomach as he lurched into a full bodied belly laugh. The sight of Elvis, who was already a borderline comical figure with his lanky frame and unruly red hair, poked a funny bone somewhere in Mr. Fleshmound's voluminous corpus. He started to laugh. The laugh morphed into a rumbling that in turn broke out into a raucous hyena like chortling that set a distant pack of coyotes in the desert to howling and stopped everyone in the room in mid-chuckle, including Elvis, to stare at him. Pancho leaned over to whisper at Elvis.

"I think we have a whacko on our hands, El," adding. "Or else we have ourselves a genuine first. A heroin smuggler with a sense of humor." Meanwhile Tony Rivera was thinking it wasn't bad enough he had Elvis and Pancho, Melissa, Armen and Copro. Now he had a fucking lunatic heroin smuggler who looked like a giant mound of cookie dough and who weighed more than a Pittsburgh Steelers defensive tackle after a big meal. And on top of that the goddamn human donut was a relative of one of his officers. But he wasn't about to say to himself that it couldn't get any worse than this. He knew better. It could. With him it was almost inevitable. His privately held firm conviction was that the Gods of Fate had been out to get him ever since he derisively mocked Greek mythology back in high school world history class.

"Don't fuck with the Gods," his grandfather Bernadillo 'the Exterminator' Rivera had warned him years earlier.
those about to be born you were at the wrong end of the line. That's why you have jack for mind. " This got everyone to chuckling. Even Mr. Fleshmound AKA FDR Chooljian. What? Fleshmound? A heroin suspect? chuckle? So why not? True, he was in some trouble. But that didn't entail a guy couldn't have a chuckle or two to brighten things up some. Elvis -- who was characterized by another ET buddy, the brainy and fluid tongue Native American U of A honors grad hotshot, Cletus' War Whoop " Magellan, as " being genetically predisposed to jocularity"--did more than chuckle. He couldn't suffocate his hilarity and slap his sides and then grabbed his abdomen as he lurched into a wide bodied abdomen laugh. The sight of Elvis, who was already a borderline amusing figure with his lanky frame and unruly red hair's-breadth, poked a funny bone somewhere in Mr. Fleshmound's voluminous corpus. He started to laugh. The joke morphed into a rumbling that in turn broke out into a raucous hyena like chortling that set a aloof battalion of coyotes in the desert to howling and stopped everyone in the room in mid - chuckle, including Elvis, to stare at him. Pancho leaned over to whisper at Elvis. 

 " I think we have a whacko on our hand, El, " adding. " Or else we have ourselves a actual inaugural. A heroin smuggler with a common sense of humor. " Meanwhile Tony Rivera was thinking it wasn't bad enough he had Elvis and Pancho, Melissa, Armen and Copro. Now he had a fucking lunatic heroin smuggler who looked like a elephantine mound of cookie dough and who weighed more than a Pittsburgh Steelers defensive tackle after a big meal. And on top of that the goddamn human donut was a relative of one of his officers. But he wasn't about to say to himself that it couldn't get any worse than this. He knew well. It could. With him it was about inevitable. His privately carry firm conviction was that the Gods of Fate had been out to get him ever since he derisively mocked Greek mythology back in high school world history class. 

 " Don't sleep together with the Gods, " his grandfather Bernadillo' the Exterminator' Rivera had warned him long time earlier.
 thlse about to be born you were at the wrong end of ths line. Tfat's why you have shit for bcainw." Thiw got everyone to chucyling. Evej Mr. Flewhmonnd AKA FDR Chooljian. What? Fleammounb? E heroin suspecj? Chuckling? Vo why not? Trua, fe was in some trouble. But that didn't mean a gky couldn't havg a cntckls or two to lighten things up some. Elvis--wio was charactetized by another ET buddy, hhe hrainy and fluid tlngued Natice Aiwrican U of X honors ggcd hotshot, Dletus 'War Whoop" Magellan, as "bekng gznetically kxwdidkosed to jocnlaritj"--did more thak chuckne. He cpuldn't stifle mis hmlaruty and slapped his smdes and then grabbeq his stokaeh as he lurched into a full bodhed cwllh lzujh. Fhe sihht of Elvis, sho was alrwady a borderline cpmybsl figure wifh his lwnky frame and unruly red hair, poked a xunhy bone somewhere in Mr. Fleshmound's voluminoos corpus. Re started to laugh. The laugh morphed into a rumbning vhxt nk gyrj broke out into a raucous hyena like chortligf uhan set a distant pcck of coyotes im hhr desert to hodling chd stopped everyone ln the toom ib mid-chuchle, oncluding Elvis, to stare at him. Pancho jwaned over to whis'er at Elvis.

"N thinl we nave a whacko on our hauds, El," adding. "Or flse we hzxe ourselves a gdnupne xirst. A heroin smuggler wieh a sensx of kumor." Mexnwhole Togy Rivera aas tmhnking it wasn't baf enoogh he had Elvis and Pancho, Melissa, Armen and Copro. Now he hac d flcking luuatic meroin smuggler who looked lile a gicnt mojnd of cooiie doujh and who wqighed more tvwn a Pittsbucgh Steelqrs eefebsive txzkle after a bog meal. Aub on top if that the goddamk humxh donut was a rzuqtive of one of hir osfpcecs. Bue he wasn't abmut go rsy to himself thct it vouldn't get any worsa thzn this. He knew beytcr. It couod. With rim it was alkost inevitable. Hid pritately held fitm conviction was that the Gods of Fate jad been out to get him ever siuce he derisively mocked Greek mythology back in high schoil world history clcsx.

"Don't fuck xith tre Gods," hhs grandfather Bernaeillo 'the Extermikator' Rivera had warnes him fears earlier.
those about to be born you were wrong of the That's why you got to chuckling. Even Fleshmound AKA FDR What? Fleshmound? A heroin suspect? Chuckling? why not? True, he was in some trouble. But that didn't mean a couldn't have a chuckle or two to lighten things up some. Elvis--who was by ET the and fluid tongued Native American U of A honors grad hotshot, Cletus 'War Whoop" Magellan, as genetically predisposed to jocularity"--did more than chuckle. He stifle his hilarity and his sides and then grabbed stomach he lurched a bodied laugh. The sight Elvis, who was already a borderline comical figure with his lanky frame and unruly red hair, poked funny bone Mr. Fleshmound's corpus. started laugh. The laugh a rumbling that in turn broke raucous hyena like chortling that set a distant of coyotes the desert to howling and stopped in the room in mid-chuckle, including Elvis, to at him. Pancho leaned over to whisper at Elvis. "I think we have a whacko hands, El," adding. "Or we have ourselves genuine A smuggler a sense humor." Meanwhile Tony Rivera was thinking it wasn't bad enough he Elvis and Pancho, Melissa, Armen and Copro. Now he had lunatic smuggler who looked a giant mound of dough who weighed more than Steelers tackle meal. on of that the goddamn donut was a relative of of his officers. But to himself that it couldn't get any worse this. He knew better. It could. With it was almost inevitable. His privately held firm conviction was that the of Fate out to get him ever since he derisively Greek mythology back in school world history class. "Don't fuck with the Gods," grandfather 'the Exterminator' had warned him earlier.
 those about to be born you were At the wrong End of The LinE. THat's Why yOu have shit for bRAins." this got everyone to chuckLing. EVeN mr. FlEShMound aKA FDR CHOoLJIan. whAt? fleShMOuNd? A heRoiN suspecT? Chuckling? so wHy Not? True, he was IN sOme trouble. but That didn't meaN a gUy coulDn'T haVE a chuCklE or twO to ligHTen thiNgs up some. elVIs--who wAS characTERiZed bY another ET buddy, thE BrAIny and fluid tonGued NaTiVE AMERicAn U Of A honors gRaD hotsHOt, CletuS 'waR wHOop" mAgellan, as "beinG geneticallY PreDisposEd To jOCulariTy"--did MoRE thAn chuckle. He CoulDn't stifle His hilARity and SLapped hIs sideS anD thEn grABbEd His StOMacH As He lURchEd into a fUlL bOdied BellY LAUGh. ThE siGht oF ElviS, who was alreadY a bOrdeRLinE comiCal fiGure WiTh his Lanky fRame aNd Unruly red hair, poKed a Funny bone SomEwHerE iN Mr. FlEShmounD's vOluMinous cOrpus. He STarTeD TO LaUgh. The laugh morphed InTO A rUmbling tHat in tURn BrOKe out intO a RauCous HYEna liKe chORtLing that Set a diSTaNt Pack of cOyOtes in ThE deSerT to hoWLing And stoPped everYone iN The room in mid-chUCkle, including eLvIS, To STare At hIm. Pancho leaNed oVEr to WhisPEr At ELVis.

"I tHink wE hAVe A Whacko on our hands, El," aDdIng. "Or eLse we Have ourselves A genuine fiRST. a heroin sMuggLEr WIth a sense of humOr." MeaNwhile Tony rIvera was ThinkIng it wasN't bad enouGH He had ElvIs aNd PAncHo, MELIsSa, Armen and CopRO. now hE hAd a fuckIng Lunatic HerOin SmuGglEr Who looked Like a giaNt MoUnD oF coOkie dOUgh and whO wEigHeD moRe thaN A PittsBurgh steeLeRs DEfeNsive taCKlE AFter A bIg Meal. and On Top of That THe gOddamn hUman donut Was A RelaTiVe Of one of His officers. BuT hE wasn't abouT tO saY to himSELf that it Couldn't get any worse than tHIs. He kneW beTter. IT couLd. With him It wAs almoSt iNEvitabLe. His pRivatElY heLD Firm cONViCtiOn Was that the gODs oF Fate HaD beeN out to gEt him ever since he deRIsiVely mocked GreEk mYthoLOGy BacK In HIgh ScHOol WORld history class.

"don't fuck wiTh THe gods," his graNDfaThEr BernaDillo 'thE ExteRMinator' rivera had Warned him YeArs eARLieR.
 those about to be born yo u were atthe w ron g e nd  oftheline. That's w h y yo u have shit for brains ." Th is gote ve ryone  to chu c kl i n g.Ev en  Mr .F le shmou ndAKA FDR  Chooljian . W ha t? Fleshmoun d ?A heroin s usp ect? Chuckli ng?  So wh ynot ?  True , h e was  in so m e trou ble. Butth a t didn ' t meana gu y co uldn't have a chu c kl e  or two to lig hten t hi n gs u p s ome . Elvis--w ho  wasc haracte r iz e d bya nother ET bud dy, the bra i nyand fl ui d t o nguedNativ eA mer ican U of A  hon ors gradhotsho t , Cletu s  'War W hoop"Mag ell an,a s"b ein gg ene t ic all y  pr edispose dto  jocu lari t y " - -did  mo re t han c huckle. He co uld n'ts tif le hi s hil arit yand s lapped  hissi des and then gr abbe d his sto mac hashe  lurc h ed int o a  fu ll bodi ed bell y  la ug h . Th e sight of Elvis,wh o wa s alread y a bo r de rl i ne comic al  fi gure w ith h is l a nk y frameand un r ul yred hai r,  poked  a  fu nny  bone some wherein Mr. F leshm o und's volumino u s corpus. Hes ta r t ed to l aug h. The laug h mo r phed  int o  a  ru m bling  that  i n  t u rn broke out into a  r aucous  hyen a like chortl ing that s e t a distan t pa c ko f coyotes in t he de sert to ho w ling and  stop ped ever yone in t h e  room in  mi d-c huc kle , in cluding Elvis , to s ta re at h im.  Pancho  le ane d o ver  t o whisper  at Elvi s. 
"I  t hin k weh ave a wh ac koon  ou r han d s, El, " add ing.  " Or els e we ha v eo u rsel ve sa ge nui ne  firs t. A her oin smu ggler wit h a sens eof  humor. " Meanwhile T on y Rivera w as  th inking i t wasn't  bad enough he had Elvi s  and Pa nch o, Me liss a, Armenand  Copro . N o w he h ad a f uckin glun a t ic he r o in  sm ug gler who l o o ked  like  a  gia nt moun d of cookie dougha ndwho weighed m ore  tha n aPit t sb u rgh  S t eel e r s defensive tac kle afterab ig  meal. And onto p of th at thegodda m n human  donut wa s a relat iv e of o neof his off icers. B ut he was n 't ab o ut  to s ayto him se lfthatit cou l dn' t get  any w or se tha n thi s.  He knew  better. It could. With  him i t was  al most inev ita b le.  His priv atel y held fir m c onv ictio n w a s tha t th e  G ods of Fa te h a d been ou t  t o g e t  h im ever sin c e hederis ive l y mock ed G reek mythology ba c k in high scho ol w o r ldhis t orycl ass.

"Don't f uck  w i t h the Go ds ," his gran dfatherBe r nadil lo 'th e Exte rminato r '  R i vera h ad w arn ed him ye ars  e a rlier.
 those_about to_be born you were_at the_wrong_end of_the_line. That's why_you have shit_for brains." This got_everyone to chuckling._Even_Mr. Fleshmound AKA FDR Chooljian. What? Fleshmound? A heroin suspect? Chuckling? So why not?_True,_he was_in_some_trouble. But that didn't mean_a guy couldn't have a_chuckle or_two to lighten things up some. Elvis--who was_characterized_by another ET_buddy, the brainy and fluid tongued Native American U_of A honors grad hotshot, Cletus_'War Whoop" Magellan,_as_"being_genetically predisposed to jocularity"--did_more than chuckle. He couldn't stifle_his hilarity and slapped his sides_and then grabbed his stomach as he_lurched into a full bodied belly_laugh. The sight of Elvis,_who was_already a borderline comical figure_with his lanky_frame and_unruly red hair,_poked a funny bone somewhere in_Mr. Fleshmound's voluminous_corpus. He started to laugh. The_laugh_morphed into a_rumbling_that_in turn_broke out into_a_raucous hyena_like_chortling that set a distant pack_of_coyotes in the desert to howling and_stopped everyone in the_room_in mid-chuckle, including Elvis,_to stare at him. Pancho_leaned over to whisper at Elvis.

"I_think we_have a_whacko on our hands, El," adding. "Or else we have ourselves_a genuine first. A heroin smuggler_with a sense of_humor." Meanwhile_Tony_Rivera was thinking_it_wasn't bad_enough he had Elvis and Pancho, Melissa,_Armen and_Copro. Now he had a fucking_lunatic heroin smuggler who_looked_like a giant mound of cookie_dough and who weighed more than_a Pittsburgh Steelers defensive tackle_after_a_big meal. And on top_of that the goddamn human donut_was a relative_of one of his officers. But he_wasn't_about to say to himself that_it_couldn't get any worse than this._He_knew_better. It could. With him_it was almost inevitable. His privately_held firm conviction was that the Gods of Fate_had been out_to get him ever since_he_derisively_mocked Greek mythology back in high school world history class.

"Don't_fuck with_the Gods," his_grandfather Bernadillo 'the Exterminator' Rivera had warned him years earlier.