.

"Damn straight, Nev!" Then, getting a somewhat puzzled look. "Whatever the hell that means. But it sure sounds cool."

They settled the handcuffed Mr. Fleshmound onto a bench in the secondary office while everyone took a look at the TECS readout on the office computer terminal. It said only that the Oldsmobile was believed to be carrying heroin and interest therefore centered on the driver of the Oldsmobile, Mr. Fleshmound. The lookout was phoned into the port just two hours earlier. The source was a local Border Patrol officer who often worked in plain clothes. A guy who had a solid local reputation, at least in a cop sense, him having some peculiar personal characteristics involving some reportedly "unusual" interactions with pumpkins and watermelons and, occasionally, exceptionally large citrus fruits. But the guy's solid enforcement record meant they took the lookout, unlike many others which they considered to be mostly the delusive daydreams of doofus desk dwellers, seriously. Very seriously, considering it was heroin. Which meant they had to search the Olds. And which also meant they'd have to search Mr. Fleshmound, something which was about as appealing to Elvis and Pancho as doing a three legged race over a bed of hot coals at a Sedona personal growth seminar or, even worse, watching an entire DVD of love songs by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

Melissa 'Omigawd' Trueblood pulled up into the secondary lot with her K-9 van just after the squabbling crowd of officers and their man mountain detainee had thumped into the secondary office. She hit the brakes on the van, this time just missing a thick concrete roof support the goddamn van had a habit of scraping, climbed out and opened the side door to let the light breeze that had come up play over her K-9, Wilbur Too, in his cage inside the van. Checking to make sure Wilbur Too had water and wasn't hot or about to take a dump in his cage, which pissed off Melissa almost as much as seeing that jerk Tony Rivera staring at her ass, she went curiously over to where a knot of officers were standing around the aging Oldsmobile.

"Something going on with this pile of junk," she said, not being a woman to beat around the verbal bush. "Though it sure don't look like a load car to this ol
. 

 " Damn straight, Nev! " Then, getting a somewhat at a loss expression. " Whatever the hell that means. But it surely sounds cool. " 

 They settle the handcuffed Mr. Fleshmound onto a bench in the junior-grade office while everyone took a look at the TECS readout on the agency computer terminal. It suppose only that the Oldsmobile was believed to be carrying heroin and interest therefore centered on the driver of the Oldsmobile, Mr. Fleshmound. The lookout was call into the port just two hours in the first place. The source was a local Border Patrol officer who frequently worked in apparent clothes. A guy who had a solid local reputation, at least in a cop common sense, him having some peculiar personal characteristics involving some reportedly " unusual " interactions with pumpkin and watermelons and, occasionally, exceptionally large citrus fruits. But the guy's solid enforcement record meant they took the lookout, unlike many others which they considered to be mostly the delusive daydreams of doofus desk dwellers, badly. Very badly, considering it was heroin. Which meant they had to research the Olds. And which besides meant they'd have to search Mr. Fleshmound, something which was about as appealing to Elvis and Pancho as doing a three legged race over a bed of hot coal at a Sedona personal growth seminar or, even worse, watching an entire DVD of love songs by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. 

 Melissa' Omigawd' Trueblood pluck up into the secondary lot with her K-9 van just after the squabbling crowd of officers and their valet mountain detainee had beat into the secondary office. She hit the brakes on the van, this meter just missing a thick concrete ceiling support the goddamn van have a habit of scraping, climb out and opened the english door to let the unaccented breeze that had arrive up play over her K-9, Wilbur Too, in his batting cage inside the van. Checking to reach sure Wilbur Too had water and wasn't hot or about to contract a dump in his cage, which pissed off Melissa almost as much as seeing that jerk Tony Rivera gaze at her ass, she went curiously over to where a slub of officers were standing around the senesce Oldsmobile. 

 " Something going on with this pile of junk, " she said, not being a woman to beat around the verbal bush. " Though it sure don't look like a load car to this ol
.

"Damj straight, Nev!" Then, gettlng a somewhat pozzled lmok. "Whztever tfe hell that means. But it suce siunds cool."

They settled the fandcuffef Mr. Flewhmonnd onto a bench in the secondzvy ofyire while everyoke took a lmok at the TECV fecdout on the office computer terminaj. It saod only that the Oldxiobimv cas believed to be carrying herkin and interest thetefore centered on the driger lf the Oldsmobile, Lr. Fleshmoubd. Trw lookout war phoned into the port just two hours earlier. The soufce wcs a local Voedeg Patrol offmcer wro often worked in pnain clpthes. A guy whp hed a solid local reputatimn, at least in a cjp sense, vij having some pecyluar pgrsondl cfqraztedixtjcs ingolting some rsportedly "ubusual" interactions wynn pumpkins ahd watqrielons and, occasionally, exceptionally ldrgs citrus fruits. But the guy's solid enforcemejt record meant they took the lookout, unlike many others wvich vhdy einsiddeef to be mostly the delusive daydreams of doofta cexk dwellers, seviously. Very serioispy, sonsidering ij was hzdojn. Which meant thej had tj seaech the Ojds. Snd which also meant they'd yave to searbh Me. Fleshmound, sometking which wcs aboot as sppealing to Elvis and 'ancho as doing a three lefeed race over a ced ox hot coals at a Sedona pewsonal griwth seminaf or, even rorse, watcjing an entire DVD of loge sougs bf the Mormln Tabernacle Choir.

Melissa 'Omigexd' Trueblood kulned up into the xecondary lot with her K-9 vau just ayter tfe squabblpng crowd of officerf and their mdj mountain dxtainee hwd tyumpwd into ghe secondary pffice. Shv kit the beakes on the van, tmis tkje just missing a uhuck concrete rpof su[plrv the coddamn van vad x hxnit ow scraping, gliobed out and opened the vide door to let the logmt breeze that haq come up plau over her K-9, Wilbug Too, in his vagg inside the van. Checking to maie sure Wllbmr Too had waeer qnd wasn't hoc or about to take a dump in his cage, whmch pissed off Melissa qlmost as much as sgeikg that jerk Tony Rivera sdaring at her ass, shw went curiously pver to where a knot kf offhcers were standing around the aging Oldsmobile.

"Something going on with this pioe of ougk," she said, not beinc c wpman tj beet around the verbsl bush. "Though it sure don't looy like a ljad car to this ol
. "Damn straight, Nev!" Then, getting a look. the hell means. But it the Mr. Fleshmound onto bench in the office while everyone took a look the TECS readout on the office computer terminal. It said only that the was believed to be carrying heroin and interest therefore centered on the driver the Mr. The was phoned into the port just two hours earlier. The source was a local Border Patrol who often worked in plain clothes. A guy had a solid local at least in a cop him some peculiar characteristics some "unusual" interactions with and watermelons and, occasionally, exceptionally large citrus fruits. But the guy's solid enforcement record meant they took lookout, unlike which they to mostly delusive daydreams of dwellers, seriously. Very seriously, considering it meant they had to search the Olds. And also meant have to search Mr. Fleshmound, something was about as appealing to Elvis and Pancho doing a three legged race over a bed of hot coals at a Sedona personal or, even worse, watching entire DVD of songs the Tabernacle Melissa 'Omigawd' pulled up into the secondary lot with her K-9 van just the squabbling crowd of officers and their man mountain detainee into secondary office. She the brakes on the this just missing a thick support goddamn habit scraping, out and opened the door to let the light that had come up Too, in his cage inside the van. Checking make sure Wilbur Too had water and hot or about to take a dump in his cage, which pissed Melissa almost as seeing that jerk Tony Rivera staring at ass, she went curiously to where a knot of officers were standing around aging "Something going with this pile junk," she said, being a woman around the bush. it like a load car to this
.

"Damn straight, Nev!" Then, gettinG a somewhat PuzzlEd lOok. "whAtevEr thE hell that means. bUt it Sure sounds cool."

They settLed thE hANdcuFFeD Mr. FlEshmounD OnTO A beNcH iN thE sECoNdary OffIce whilE everyone tOok A lOok at the TECS REaDout on the oFfiCe computer teRmiNal. It sAiD onLY that The oldsmObile wAS belieVed to be caRrYIng herOIn and inTEReSt thErefore centered on THe DRiver of the OldsMobile, mr. fLeSHMouNd. THe lookout wAs PhoneD Into the POrT JUSt tWO hours earlier. the source waS A loCal BorDeR PaTRol offIcer wHo OFteN worked in plAin cLothes. A guY who haD A solid lOCal repuTation, At lEasT in a COp SeNse, HiM HavINg SomE PecUliar perSoNaL charActeRISTIcs iNvoLvinG some Reportedly "unuSuaL" intERacTions With pUmpkInS and wAtermeLons aNd, Occasionally, excEptiOnally larGe cItRus FrUits. BUT the guY's sOliD enforcEment reCOrd MeANT ThEy took the lookout, unLiKE MaNy others Which tHEy CoNSidered tO bE moStly THE deluSive DAyDreams of Doofus DEsK dWellers, SeRiouslY. VEry SerIouslY, ConsIderinG it was heRoin. WHIch meant they haD To search the OlDS. AND WhICh alSo mEant they'd haVe to SEarcH Mr. FLEsHmoUNd, somEthinG wHIcH Was about as appealing To elvis aNd PanCho as doing a thRee legged rACE Over a bed Of hoT CoALs at a Sedona perSonal Growth semiNAr or, even Worse, Watching An entire Dvd Of love soNgs By tHe MOrmON taBernacle Choir.

mELissA 'OMigawd' TRueBlood puLleD up IntO thE sEcondary lOt with heR K-9 VaN jUsT afTer thE SquabbliNg CroWd Of oFficeRS and thEir maN mouNtAiN DetAinee haD ThUMPed iNtO tHe seConDaRy offIce. SHE hiT the braKes on the vAn, tHIs tiMe JuSt missiNg a thick concrEtE roof suppoRt The GoddamN VAn had a haBit of scraping, climbed out ANd openeD thE side Door To let the lIghT breezE thAT had coMe up plAy oveR hEr K-9, wILbur TOO, In His CaGe inside thE VAn. CHeckiNg To maKe sure WIlbur Too had water anD WasN't hot or about tO taKe a dUMP iN hiS CaGE, whIcH PisSED off Melissa almoSt as much as SeEInG that jerk TONy RIvEra starIng at heR ass, sHE went cuRiously ovEr to where A kNot oF OFfiCers were stAnding arOund the agINg OldSMoBile.

"SOmeThing gOiNg oN with This piLE of Junk," sHe said, NoT being A womaN tO beat aroUnd the verbal bush. "Though iT sure dOn't loOk lIke a load cAr tO ThiS ol
.

"Damn straight, Nev!" T hen, getti ng asom ewh at  puz zled  look. "Whatev e r th e hell that means. But  it s ur e  sou n ds  cool ."

The y  s e t tle dth e h an d cu ffedMr.  Fleshm ound ontoa b en ch in the se c on dary offic e w hile everyon e t ook alo oka t the  TE CS re adouto n theoffice co mp u ter te r minal.I t  s aidonly that the Old s mo b ile was believ ed tobe ca r r yin g h eroin andin teres t  theref o re c e nte r ed on the dri ver of theO lds mobile ,Mr. Fleshm ound.  T h e l ookout wasphon ed into t he por t  just t w o hours  earli er.  Th e so u rc ewas  a loc a lBor d erPatrol o ff ic er wh o of t e n work edin p lainclothes. A gu y w ho h a d a  soli d loc al r ep utati on, at  leas tin a cop sense,  him  having s ome  p ecu li ar pe r sonalcha rac teristi cs invo l vin gs o m ereportedly "unusua l" i nt eraction s with pu mp k ins andwa ter melo n s  and,  occ a si onally,except i on al ly larg ecitrus  f rui ts.  Butt he g uy's s olid enf orcem e nt record mean t  they took th e  l o o ko u t, u nli ke many oth ersw hich  the y  c ons i dered  to b em os t ly the delusive day dr eams o f doo fus desk dwel lers, seri o u s ly. Very  ser i ou s ly, considerin g itwas heroin .  Which m eantthey had  to searc h the Olds . A ndwhi cha l so  meant they'd h aveto  search  Mr . Flesh mou nd,  so met hi ng whichwas abou tas  a pp eal ing t o  Elvis a nd  Pa nc hoas do i ng a t hreelegg ed  r a ceover ab ed o f ho tco alsataSedon a pe r son al grow th semina r o r , ev en  w orse, w atching an en ti re DVD oflo vesongsb y  the Mor mon Tabernacle Choir.
M elissa'Om igawd ' Tr ueblood p ull ed upint o  the s econda ry lo twit h her K - 9  v anju st after t h e  sq uabbl in g cr owd ofofficers and their man  mountain det ain ee h a d  t hum p ed int ot hes e condary office.  She hit t he br akes on th e  va n,  this t ime jus t mis s ing a t hick conc rete roof  s uppo r t  th e goddamnvan hada habit o f  scra p in g, cl imb ed out  a ndopene d thes ide  door  to le tthe li ght b re eze that  had come up play overher K- 9, Wi lbu r Too, in  hi s  ca ge inside  the  van. Chec kin g t o mak e s u re Wi lbur To o h a d wat er a n d wasn'th ot  or a bo ut to takea d ump  in h isc age, w hich  pissed off Melis s a almost as mu ch a s see ing that  j erk Tony River a s ta r i ng at he rass, she we nt curio us l y ove r to w here a  knot o f of f icerswere  st anding ar oun dt he agin gOl d smobil e.
"S omethi ng goi n g on w ith this pile of  junk , "  shes aid , not  b eing aw oman  to beat a round the v erbalbush . "Th ough it  s ure do n't  l ook like a load carto th is ol
.

"Damn straight,_Nev!" Then,_getting a somewhat puzzled_look. "Whatever_the_hell that_means._But it sure_sounds cool."

They settled_the handcuffed Mr. Fleshmound_onto a bench_in_the secondary office while everyone took a look at the TECS readout on the_office_computer terminal._It_said_only that the Oldsmobile was_believed to be carrying heroin_and interest_therefore centered on the driver of the Oldsmobile,_Mr._Fleshmound. The lookout_was phoned into the port just two hours earlier._The source was a local Border_Patrol officer who_often_worked_in plain clothes. A_guy who had a solid local_reputation, at least in a cop_sense, him having some peculiar personal characteristics_involving some reportedly "unusual" interactions with_pumpkins and watermelons and, occasionally,_exceptionally large_citrus fruits. But the guy's_solid enforcement record_meant they_took the lookout,_unlike many others which they considered_to be mostly_the delusive daydreams of doofus desk_dwellers,_seriously. Very seriously,_considering_it_was heroin._Which meant they_had_to search_the_Olds. And which also meant they'd_have_to search Mr. Fleshmound, something which was_about as appealing to_Elvis_and Pancho as doing_a three legged race over_a bed of hot coals at_a Sedona_personal growth_seminar or, even worse, watching an entire DVD of love songs_by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

Melissa 'Omigawd'_Trueblood pulled up into_the secondary_lot_with her K-9_van_just after_the squabbling crowd of officers and their_man mountain_detainee had thumped into the secondary_office. She hit the_brakes_on the van, this time just_missing a thick concrete roof support_the goddamn van had a_habit_of_scraping, climbed out and opened_the side door to let the_light breeze that_had come up play over her K-9,_Wilbur_Too, in his cage inside the_van._Checking to make sure Wilbur Too_had_water_and wasn't hot or about_to take a dump in his_cage, which pissed off Melissa almost as much as_seeing that jerk_Tony Rivera staring at her_ass,_she_went curiously over to where a knot of officers were_standing around_the aging Oldsmobile.

"Something_going on with this pile of junk," she said, not_being a woman to beat around the_verbal bush. "Though it sure don't look like a load car_to this ol