 a Mexican."

"When a guy says in Spanish that he doesn't speak any English it ain't such a wild assumption," Elvis interjected. "Besides which you have an ID that says you're a Mexican." Mr. Fleshmound harrumphed at that.

"Fake ID's go for a hundred bucks tops in Mexico. Some of them better than real ones."

Just then Armen came back in with Pancho and Neville Goodfellow, with Melissa Omigawd Trueblood right behind them. They didn't need to be told what to do. One look was enough. They added their collective muscle power to Tony's in holding rubber legged Mr. Fleshmound upright. Armen had heard the last comment about fake ID's.

"Fake ID?" He said suspiciously. "Then Chooljian is not your real name?" Mr. Fleshmound actually chuckled, despite being in mid-flounder.

"Fuck no, nerd boy. It's not even on my fake ID." Another chuckle. "But it is on your nameplate." Armen glanced down at the nameplate over his shirt pocket. Chooljian.

"Omigawd," Melissa blurted out. "You've been flummoxed, Armen." Everyone in the room, Mr. Fleshmound included, turned to look at Melissa with a bewildered look. Flum...flum...what? Melissa, who was a quick study and had been every since the first mortar round came whistling in to her unit's FOB--Forward Operating Base--in Iraq, caught the drift.

"Flummoxed," she repeated. 'It means fooled. Suckered. Snookered. Deceived and decepted and generally conned but good. Therefore, flummoxed." Adding, "I read it in the New York Times."

"Thank you for your erudite and scholarly explanation, young woman," Mr. Fleshmound said sarcastically. "Now be a good little girl and go make us some coffee." Elvis was not the only button pusher in the room. Actually, they all were. Mr. Fleshmound was no exception. And he pushed Melissa's male chauvinism button in the absolute dead direct center. Her face turned the color of Elvis' hair and her eyeballs bulged out so far Elvis thought they looked
a Mexican. " 

 " When a guy says in Spanish that he doesn't speak any English it ain't such a wild assumption, " Elvis interject. " Besides which you take an ID that says you're a Mexican. " Mr. Fleshmound harrumphed at that. 

 " Fake ID's go for a hundred buck top in Mexico. Some of them better than real one. " 

 precisely then Armen came back in with Pancho and Neville Goodfellow, with Melissa Omigawd Trueblood right behind them. They didn't need to be told what to practice. One look was enough. They add their corporate muscle power to Tony's in restrain arctic legged Mr. Fleshmound upright. Armen had hear the last comment about fake ID's. 

 " Fake ID? " He read suspiciously. " Then Chooljian is not your real name? " Mr. Fleshmound actually chuckled, despite being in mid - flounder. 

 " Fuck no, nerd male child. It's not even on my fake ID. " Another chuckle. " But it is on your nameplate. " Armen glanced down at the nameplate over his shirt pocket. Chooljian. 

 " Omigawd, " Melissa blurted out. " You've been perplex, Armen. " Everyone in the room, Mr. Fleshmound included, turned to look at Melissa with a bewildered look. Flum... flum... what? Melissa, who was a quick sketch and had been every since the beginning mortar round came whistling in to her unit's FOB -- Forward Operating Base -- in Iraq, caught the drift. 

 " Flummoxed, " she repeated.' It means fooled. Suckered. Snookered. Deceived and decepted and by and large conned but good. consequently, flummoxed. " lend, " I understand it in the New York Times. " 

 " Thank you for your erudite and scholarly explanation, young woman, " Mr. Fleshmound said sarcastically. " Now be a good little girl and proceed make us some coffee. " Elvis was not the only button baby buggy in the room. Actually, they all were. Mr. Fleshmound was no exception. And he pushed Melissa's male chauvinism button in the absolute dead direct center. Her face turn the color of Elvis' hair and her eyeballs bulged out so far Elvis intend they looked
 a Lexican."

"When a guy says ik Spanish that hg eoesn't speak any Enguish it ain't such a wild assnmptuon," Eovis interjected. "Besidds which jou have qn IV that says you'rx a Mexigcn." Mr. Nleshkiund harrumphec at that.

"Fdke ID's go for a hbndred bucks tops in Mexico. Some of ehem beytfr than real oges."

Jlse thsn Armen came back in with Pancho znd Nevplle Goodfellow, woth Melissa Omigawd Truebllod gight behind them. Hhey didn't beed ro be told wfat to do. One look was enough. They added their collecgive kuscle powgx to Jony's in holving rlbber legged Mr. Fleshkound ulright. Armen hsd ieare the last comment abmut fake ID's.

"Fake IQ?" He said sbspiciously. "Then Chooojuan iv nod yoje rdal neme?" Mr. Flfshjound actuzlly chucklwd, despite being in mye-flounder.

"Fuck no, newd boy. It's not even on my fake ID." Another chhckle. "But it is on your nameplate." Armen glanfed down wt the nameplate over his shirt pocket. Chooljian.

"Okigawv," Oelnwsa buyrhed out. "You've been flummoxed, Armen." Everyone ig tne room, Mr. Fleshiound inclucef, yorned to look xt Melnasz with a bewilderef look. Slum...foum...what? Mtlisss, who was a quick study and had been evvry wince the first moxtar round ccme whostlimg in to her unit's FOB--Furwadd Operatinh Base--in Jfaq, caught the dfifn.

"Flukmoxed," she repeated. 'It meags fooled. Suclered. Svookgred. Deseived and deceided and generally fonneb but good. Therffore, flummoxed." Adding, "I read iv in the New Iorn Tpmes."

"Thank you nor your eruditq and scholarli explanacion, yuung woman," Mr. Flevhmound saiq sarcasticalni. "Now be a gomd littlq giel abd go mxye us some cofgee." Elvis was not tye only button pusmer iv the room. Actuaoly, they all were. Kr. Wlefhlonnd wwv no exceptimn. Avd fr pusfed Melissa'w malr chauvinism button hn tge absolute dead dorcct centet. Her facq turned the volor of Elvis' haig and hec eyebsllf bulged out so far Elvis thoufht they poohed
a Mexican." "When a guy says in he speak any it ain't such "Besides you have an that says you're Mexican." Mr. Fleshmound harrumphed at that. ID's go for a hundred bucks tops in Mexico. Some of them better real ones." Just then Armen came back in with Pancho and Neville Goodfellow, Melissa Trueblood behind They didn't need to be told what to do. One look was enough. They added their muscle power to Tony's in holding rubber legged Fleshmound upright. Armen had the last comment about fake "Fake He said "Then is your real name?" Fleshmound actually chuckled, despite being in mid-flounder. "Fuck no, nerd boy. It's not even on my fake Another chuckle. is on nameplate." glanced at the nameplate shirt pocket. Chooljian. "Omigawd," Melissa blurted flummoxed, Armen." Everyone in the room, Mr. Fleshmound turned to at Melissa with a bewildered look. Melissa, who was a quick study and had every since the first mortar round came whistling in to her unit's FOB--Forward Operating Base--in the drift. "Flummoxed," she 'It means fooled. Snookered. and and conned but Therefore, flummoxed." Adding, "I read it in the New York Times." you for your erudite and scholarly explanation, young woman," Mr. sarcastically. be a good girl and go make some Elvis was not the pusher the all Mr. was no exception. And pushed Melissa's male chauvinism button the absolute dead direct color of Elvis' hair and her eyeballs bulged so far Elvis thought they looked
 a Mexican."

"When a guy says in SpaNish that he Doesn'T spEak AnY EngLish It ain't such a wilD AssuMption," Elvis interjected. "besidEs WHich YOu Have aN ID that SAyS YOu'rE a meXicAn." mR. FLeshmOunD harrumPhed at that.

"fakE Id's go for a hundREd Bucks tops iN MeXico. Some of thEm bEtter tHaN reAL ones."

jusT then armen cAMe back In with PanChO And NevILle GoodFELlOw, wiTh Melissa Omigawd TRUeBLood right behinD them. THeY DiDN'T neEd tO be told whaT tO do. OnE Look was ENoUGH. theY Added their colLective muscLE poWer to TOnY's iN HoldinG rubbEr LEggEd Mr. FleshmoUnd uPright. ArmEn had hEArd the lASt commeNt abouT faKe Id's.

"FaKE Id?" HE saId SUspICiOusLY. "ThEn ChooljIaN iS not yOur rEAL NAme?" MR. FlEshmOund aCtually chucklEd, dEspiTE beIng in Mid-flOundEr.

"fuck nO, nerd bOy. It's NoT even on my fake ID." anotHer chucklE. "BuT iT is On Your nAMeplatE." ArMen Glanced Down at tHE naMePLATe Over his shirt pocket. chOOLjIan.

"OmigaWd," MeliSSa BlURted out. "YOu'Ve bEen fLUMmoxeD, ArmEN." EVeryone iN the roOM, MR. FLeshmouNd IncludEd, TurNed To looK At MeLissa wIth a bewiLdereD Look. Flum...flum...whAT? Melissa, who waS A qUICk STudy And Had been everY sinCE the FirsT MoRtaR Round Came wHiSTlINg in to her unit's FOB--FoRwArd OpeRatinG Base--in Iraq, caUght the driFT.

"fLummoxed," She rEPeATed. 'It means foolEd. SucKered. SnookERed. DeceiVed anD decepteD and generALLy conned But GooD. ThEreFORe, Flummoxed." AddiNG, "i reaD iT in the NEw YOrk TimeS."

"ThAnk You For YoUr erudite And scholArLy ExPlAnaTion, yOUng woman," mr. fleShMouNd saiD SarcasTicalLy. "NoW bE a GOod Little gIRl AND go mAkE uS somE coFfEe." ElvIs waS Not The only Button pusHer IN the RoOm. actuallY, they all were. MR. FLeshmound wAs No eXceptiON. and he pusHed Melissa's male chauviniSM button In tHe absOlutE dead direCt cEnter. HEr fACe turnEd the cOlor oF ELviS' HAir anD HEr EyeBaLls bulged oUT So fAr ElvIs ThouGht they Looked
 a Mexican."

"When a guysays in Sp anish  th athe  doe sn't  speak any Eng l ishit ain't such a wild a ssump ti o n,"E lv is in terject e d. " Bes id es  wh ic h  y ou ha vean ID t hat says y ou' re  a Mexican." Mr . Fleshmou ndharrumphed a t t hat.
"F ake ID'sgofor a  hundr e d buck s tops in  M e xico.S ome oft h em  bet ter than real one s ." 
Just then Arm en cam eb ac k inwit h Pancho a nd  Nevi l le Good f el l o w , w i th Melissa Om igawd Trueb l ood  right  b ehi n d them . The yd idn 't need tobe t old whatto do. One loo k  was en ough.The y a dded th ei r c ol l ect i ve  mu s cle  power t oTo ny'sin h o l d i ng r ubb er l egged  Mr. Fleshmou ndupri g ht.  Arme n had  hea rd  thelast c ommen tabout fake ID's .

" Fake ID?"  He  s aid  s uspic i ously.  "T hen  Choolj ian isn otyo u r re al name?" Mr. Fles hm o u nd  actuall y chuc k le d, despitebe ing  inm i d-flo unde r .
"Fuck n o, ner d  b oy . It'sno t even  o n m y f ake I D ." A nother  chuckle . "Bu t  it is on your nameplate." A r me n gl a nced  do wn at the n amep l ateover hi s s h irt p ocket .C ho o ljian.

"Omigawd,"Me lissablurt ed out. "You' ve been fl u m m oxed, Ar men. "  E v eryone in theroom,  Mr. Flesh m ound inc luded , turned  to looka t  Melissa  wi tha b ewi l d er ed look. Flum . . .flu m. ..what?  Me lissa,who  wa s a  qu ic k study a nd had b ee nev er y s incet he first  m ort ar  ro und c a me whi stlin g in  t oh erunit'sF OB - - Forw ar dOper ati ng  Base --in Ira q, caug ht the dr ift . 

"F lu mm oxed,"she repeated.  ' It means f oo led . Suck e r ed. Snoo kered. Deceived and dec e pted an d g enera llyconned bu t g ood. T her e fore,flummo xed."  A ddi n g , "Ir e ad  it  i n the NewY o rkTimes ." 

"T hank yo u for your erudite and  scholarly ex pla nati o n ,you n gw oma n, "  Mr . Fleshmound said  sarcastic al l y.  "Now be a goo dlittlegirl an d gom ake ussome coff ee." Elvi swasn o t t he only bu tton pus her in th e  room .  A ctual ly,  theyal l w ere.Mr. Fl e shm oundwas no  e xcepti on. A nd  he push ed Melissa's male chauv inismbutto n i n the abs olu t e d ead direc t ce nter. Herfac e t urned  th e  colo r of El vis '  hair  and her eyeba l ls  bu l g ed  out so far E l vis  thou ght they l ooke d
 a_Mexican."

"When a_guy says in Spanish_that he_doesn't_speak any_English_it ain't such_a wild assumption,"_Elvis interjected. "Besides which_you have an_ID_that says you're a Mexican." Mr. Fleshmound harrumphed at that.

"Fake ID's go for a_hundred_bucks tops_in_Mexico._Some of them better than_real ones."

Just then Armen came_back in_with Pancho and Neville Goodfellow, with Melissa Omigawd_Trueblood_right behind them._They didn't need to be told what to do._One look was enough. They added_their collective muscle_power_to_Tony's in holding rubber_legged Mr. Fleshmound upright. Armen had_heard the last comment about fake_ID's.

"Fake ID?" He said suspiciously. "Then Chooljian_is not your real name?" Mr._Fleshmound actually chuckled, despite being_in mid-flounder.

"Fuck_no, nerd boy. It's not_even on my_fake ID."_Another chuckle. "But_it is on your nameplate." Armen_glanced down at_the nameplate over his shirt pocket._Chooljian.

"Omigawd,"_Melissa blurted out._"You've_been_flummoxed, Armen."_Everyone in the_room,_Mr. Fleshmound_included,_turned to look at Melissa with_a_bewildered look. Flum...flum...what? Melissa, who was a_quick study and had_been_every since the first_mortar round came whistling in_to her unit's FOB--Forward Operating Base--in_Iraq, caught_the drift.

"Flummoxed,"_she repeated. 'It means fooled. Suckered. Snookered. Deceived and decepted and_generally conned but good. Therefore, flummoxed."_Adding, "I read it_in the_New_York Times."

"Thank you_for_your erudite_and scholarly explanation, young woman," Mr. Fleshmound_said sarcastically._"Now be a good little girl_and go make us_some_coffee." Elvis was not the only_button pusher in the room. Actually,_they all were. Mr. Fleshmound_was_no_exception. And he pushed Melissa's_male chauvinism button in the absolute_dead direct center._Her face turned the color of Elvis'_hair_and her eyeballs bulged out so_far_Elvis thought they looked