 entire upward momentum of his three hundred pound plus frame into it, he jerked Mr. Fleshmound onto his feet. And held him there.

"You're gonna get searched, munchlock," he said in a definitely genuine snarl, "whether you like or not." Right then and there Tony Rivera won a reprieve--at least a temporary one--from any mischievousness Elvis might have considered sending his way to roil Tony's supervisory equilibrium. Attaboy, Tony! Elvis thought. Attaway to go. At that moment Mr. Fleshmound repeated his rubber leg routine, intending to once again flop onto the ground. Nope. Not gonna happen. Tony, who actually had some steely muscles underneath his bulk, held him upright. Flopping somewhat, but upright. A dangling flopping that reminded Elvis of a chubby carp he'd caught while out fishing on a Colorado River oxbow lake on his last day off. A carp which promptly spoiled the magic of the fishing moment by letting fly a stream of fish urine that just missed Elvis' surprised face but not his favorite lucky fishing shirt.

"Search him, Elvis," Tony said, gasping with the exertion of holding Mr. Fleshmound upright. "And do it quick." Then he looked at Armen.

"Chewing Gum," he said. "Go outside and grab a couple of officers to come in and help me hold this guy up." Armen threw him a hot look.

"That's Chooljian," he shot back. "Not Chewing Gum. I don't care if you are a supervisor or not. I won't have you slurring my ethnic heritage!"

"Right on, cousin!" Mr. Fleshmound blurted out. "Armenian power. Goddamn Turks." He swiveled his well larded neck to look at Tony. "You look like a Turk to me." Tony lasered Armen.

"Go! Get some help! Mr. Chooljian." Armen went to get help. Tony turned his glare to Mr. Fleshmound. "I am not a Turk. I have never been to Turkey. In fact, I'm not even quite sure where Turkey is. But," his glare intensified as he zeroed in on Mr. Fleshmound, "I sure know a turkey when I see one." An electric shock seemed to bl
entire upward momentum of his three hundred pound plus frame of reference into it, he twitch Mr. Fleshmound onto his feet. And held him there. 

 " You're gon na get search, munchlock, " he said in a definitely actual snarl, " whether you like or not. " Right then and there Tony Rivera win a reprieve -- at least a temporary one -- from any mischief Elvis might have considered sending his direction to roil Tony's supervisory equilibrium. Attaboy, Tony! Elvis thought. Attaway to go. At that moment Mr. Fleshmound repeat his rubber leg routine, mean to once again flop onto the ground. Nope. Not gon na happen. Tony, who actually had some steely muscle underneath his bulk, held him upright. Flopping somewhat, but good. A dangling flopping that reminded Elvis of a chubby carp he'd caught while out fishing on a Colorado River oxbow lake on his last day off. A carp which promptly spoiled the magic of the fishing moment by letting fly a stream of fish urine that just missed Elvis' surprised face but not his favored golden fishing shirt. 

 " Search him, Elvis, " Tony said, gasping with the effort of retain Mr. Fleshmound upright. " And do it immediate. " Then he looked at Armen. 

 " Chewing Gum, " he said. " Go outside and grab a couple of policeman to come in and help me hold this guy up. " Armen threw him a hot look. 

 " That's Chooljian, " he shoot back. " Not Chewing Gum. I don't care if you are a supervisor or not. I won't have you slur my ethnic inheritance! " 

 " Right on, cousin! " Mr. Fleshmound blurted out. " Armenian power. Goddamn Turks. " He swiveled his well lard neck to look at Tony. " You look like a Turk to me. " Tony lasered Armen. 

 " Go! draw some assistant! Mr. Chooljian. " Armen went to get avail. Tony turned his limelight to Mr. Fleshmound. " I am not a Turk. I have never been to Turkey. In fact, I'm not even quite sure where Turkey is. But, " his glare intensified as he zeroed in on Mr. Fleshmound, " I sure acknowledge a turkey when I interpret one. " An electric shock seem to bl
 enhire upward momentum of mis three hundreb pound plus rrame ingo it, he jerked Mr. Fleshmounv onro hiw feet. And held him thdre.

"You're honna ger seerched, munchlock," he said in a scfiniceoy genuine snatl, "whether ymu like or not." Rkgkt then and there Tony Rivera won a weprievr--ah least a tempjrarj jne--fdom any mischievousness Elvis mighf have bonsidered sendinb his way to roil Tony's suoervlsory equilibrium. Wttaboy, Toni! Eldus thought. Agtaway to go. At that mkment Mr. Fleshmound repeated hir rubyer leg roujnbe, lttending to once again flop onto the ground. Nope. Not gonns heppeb. Tony, who actually hed some steely musclgs undernedtk his bulk, held him uprught. Xlop[ing womdwhzt, bht uprlghv. A danglinf flopping rhat reminded Elvis os a chubby carl he'd satght while out fishing on a Colorado Riner kxbow lake on his last eay off. A carp which kromptly s[oiled the magic of the fishing moment by letting fly e rtrtan of wusj urine that just missed Elvis' surprised face guu npt his favoritc lucky fishing shorh.

"Srwrch him, Elvir," Tony sajd, gasping with thf exertyon od holding Mr. Gleshmound upright. "And do ir quick." Then ye looked at Armen.

"Ehewing Gum," ke saic. "Go putside and grab a coupue or officers ho come ih and help me hola tmis guy up." Armen threw him a rot look.

"Tiat's Ehooljiav," he shot fack. "Not Cjewinn Gum. I don't care iv you ase a supergisor or not. I won't have you slncring my ethnoc hegitage!"

"Rigkt on, gousin!" Mr. Fleshiound blurted put. "Armznian oower. Goddzmn Turns." He swivejed his well nwrded neck tm look ae Toby. "Yiu look uike a Turk to me." Tony lasered Arnen.

"Go! Get some heli! Mr. Zgooljian." Armen ctnt to get help. Tomy gurgef iis gjdre to Mr. Flashmuuna. "I am not a Ubrk. K hafe never been to Turney. Jn fact, I'm not evem zuite sute where Eurkey is. But," his glare intensivied es he veroed in on Mr. Fleshmound, "I sure know z turkey ahek I see one." Ag elcctryc shock szemed to bl
entire upward momentum of his three hundred frame it, he Mr. Fleshmound onto there. gonna get searched, he said in definitely genuine snarl, "whether you like not." Right then and there Tony Rivera won a reprieve--at least a temporary any mischievousness Elvis might have considered sending his way to roil Tony's supervisory Attaboy, Elvis Attaway go. At that moment Mr. Fleshmound repeated his rubber leg routine, intending to once again flop the ground. Nope. Not gonna happen. Tony, who had some steely muscles his bulk, held him upright. somewhat, upright. A flopping reminded of a chubby he'd caught while out fishing on a Colorado River oxbow lake on his last day off. A which promptly magic of fishing by fly a stream urine that just missed Elvis' surprised his favorite lucky fishing shirt. "Search him, Elvis," said, gasping the exertion of holding Mr. Fleshmound "And do it quick." Then he looked at "Chewing Gum," he said. "Go outside and grab a couple of officers to come in me hold this guy Armen threw him hot "That's he back. "Not Gum. I don't care if you are a supervisor or not. won't have you slurring my ethnic heritage!" "Right on, cousin!" blurted "Armenian power. Goddamn He swiveled his well neck look at Tony. "You a to Armen. Get help! Mr. Chooljian." Armen to get help. Tony turned glare to Mr. Fleshmound. I have never been to Turkey. In fact, not even quite sure where Turkey is. his glare intensified as he zeroed in on Mr. Fleshmound, "I sure a turkey see one." An electric shock seemed to bl
 entire upward momentum of his Three hundrEd pouNd pLus FrAme iNto iT, he jerked Mr. FleSHmouNd onto his feet. And held hiM therE.

"YOU're gONnA get sEarched, MUnCHLocK," hE sAid In A DeFinitEly Genuine Snarl, "whethEr yOu Like or not." RigHT tHen and therE ToNy Rivera won a RepRieve--aT lEasT A tempOraRy one--From anY MischiEvousness elVIs mighT Have conSIDeRed sEnding his way to roiL toNY's supervisory eQuilibRiUM. ATTAboY, ToNy! Elvis thoUgHt. AttAWay to go. aT tHAT MomENt Mr. FleshmounD repeated hiS RubBer leg RoUtiNE, intenDing tO oNCe aGain flop ontO the Ground. NopE. Not goNNa happeN. tony, who ActualLy hAd sOme sTEeLy MusClES unDErNeaTH hiS bulk, helD hIm UprigHt. FlOPPINg soMewHat, bUt uprIght. A dangling FloPpinG ThaT remiNded ELvis Of A chubBy carp He'd caUgHt while out fishiNg on A Colorado rivEr OxbOw Lake oN His lasT daY ofF. A carp wHich proMPtlY sPOILeD the magic of the fishInG MOmEnt by letTing flY A sTrEAm of fish UrIne That JUSt misSed ELViS' surprisEd face BUt NoT his favOrIte lucKy FisHinG shirT.

"searCh him, ELvis," Tony Said, gASping with the exERtion of holdinG mr. fLEsHMounD upRight. "And do iT quiCK." TheN he lOOkEd aT armen.

"chewiNg gUm," HE said. "Go outside and grAb A couplE of ofFicers to come iN and help me HOLD this guy Up." ArMEn THrew him a hot looK.

"That'S Chooljian," HE shot bacK. "Not CHewing GuM. I don't carE IF you are a SupErvIsoR or NOT. I Won't have you slURRing My Ethnic hEriTage!"

"RigHt oN, coUsiN!" Mr. flEshmound bLurted ouT. "ARmEnIaN poWer. GoDDamn TurkS." HE swIvEleD his wELl lardEd necK to lOoK aT tonY. "You looK LiKE A TurK tO mE." TonY laSeRed ArMen.

"GO! get Some helP! Mr. ChooljIan." aRmen WeNt To get heLp. Tony turned hIs Glare to Mr. FLeShmOund. "I aM NOt a Turk. I Have never been to Turkey. In FAct, I'm noT evEn quiTe suRe where TuRkeY is. But," His GLare inTensifIed as He ZerOED in on mR. flEshMoUnd, "I sure knOW A tuRkey wHeN I seE one." An eLectric shock seemed TO bl
 entire upward momentum of  his three  hund red  po un d pl us f rame into it,h e je rked Mr. Fleshmound on to hi sf eet. An d hel d him t h er e . 

" Yo u' rego n na  getsea rched,munchlock, " h esaid in a de f in itely genu ine  snarl, "whe the r youli keo r not ."Right  thena nd the re Tony R iv e ra won a repri e v e- -atleast a temporary on e --from any mis chievo us n es s Elv ismight have  c onsid e red sen d in g h isw ay to roil To ny's superv i sor y equi li bri u m. Att aboy,  T o ny!  Elvis thou ght.  Attawayto go. At that momentMr. Fl esh mou nd r e pe at edhi s  ru b be r l e g r outine,in te nding  too n c e  aga inflop  onto  the ground.Nop e. N o t g onnahappe n. T on y, wh o actu allyha d some steely m uscl es undern eat hhis  b ulk,h eld hi m u pri ght. Fl oppings ome wh a t ,  b ut upright. A dang li n g  f loppingthat r e mi nd e d Elvisof  achub b y  carp  he' d  c aught wh ile ou t  f is hing on  a  Color ad o R ive r oxb o w la ke onhis last  dayo ff. A carp whi c h promptly sp o il e d  t h e ma gic  of the fis hing mome nt b y  l ett i ng fl y a s tr e am of fish urine thatju st mis sed E lvis' surpris ed face bu t n ot his f avor i te lucky fishingshirt .

"Search him, Elv is,"Tony sai d, gaspin g with the  ex ert ion  of h ol ding Mr. Fles h m ound  u pright.  "A nd do i t q uic k."  Th en  he looke d at Arm en .
" Ch ewi ng Gu m ," he sa id . " Go  ou tside and gr ab acoup le  o f  of ficerst oc o me i nan d he lpme  hold  thi s  gu y up."Armen thr ewh im a  h ot  look.
"That's Choo lj ian," he s ho t b ack. " N o t Chewin g Gum. I don't care ify ou area s uperv isor  or not.I w on't h ave you sl urring  my e th nic h erita g e !" 

" Ri ght on, co u s in! " Mr.  F lesh mound b lurted out. "Armen i anpower. Goddam n T urks . "  H e s w iv e led  h i s w e l l larded neck t o look atTo n y.  "You look lik ea Turkto me."  Tony lasered  Armen.
"Go! Getso me h e l p!Mr. Choolj ian." Ar men wentt o get he lp. T ony  turne dhis  glar e to M r . F leshm ound."I  am no t a T ur k. I hav e never been to Turkey.  In fa ct, I 'mnot evenqui t e s ure where  Tur key is. Bu t,"  hi s gla rei ntens ifie d  a s h e  zero ed i n  on Mr. F l es hmo u n d,  "I sure kn o w a t urkey  wh e n I se e on e." An electric s h ock seemed tobl
 entire_upward momentum_of his three hundred_pound plus_frame_into it,_he_jerked Mr. Fleshmound_onto his feet._And held him there.

"You're_gonna get searched,_munchlock,"_he said in a definitely genuine snarl, "whether you like or not." Right then_and_there Tony_Rivera_won_a reprieve--at least a temporary_one--from any mischievousness Elvis might_have considered_sending his way to roil Tony's supervisory equilibrium._Attaboy,_Tony! Elvis thought._Attaway to go. At that moment Mr. Fleshmound repeated_his rubber leg routine, intending to_once again flop_onto_the_ground. Nope. Not gonna_happen. Tony, who actually had some_steely muscles underneath his bulk, held_him upright. Flopping somewhat, but upright. A_dangling flopping that reminded Elvis of_a chubby carp he'd caught_while out_fishing on a Colorado River_oxbow lake on_his last_day off. A_carp which promptly spoiled the magic_of the fishing_moment by letting fly a stream_of_fish urine that_just_missed_Elvis' surprised_face but not_his_favorite lucky_fishing_shirt.

"Search him, Elvis," Tony said, gasping_with_the exertion of holding Mr. Fleshmound upright._"And do it quick."_Then_he looked at Armen.

"Chewing_Gum," he said. "Go outside_and grab a couple of officers_to come_in and_help me hold this guy up." Armen threw him a hot_look.

"That's Chooljian," he shot back. "Not_Chewing Gum. I don't_care if_you_are a supervisor_or_not. I_won't have you slurring my ethnic heritage!"

"Right_on, cousin!"_Mr. Fleshmound blurted out. "Armenian power._Goddamn Turks." He swiveled_his_well larded neck to look at_Tony. "You look like a Turk_to me." Tony lasered Armen.

"Go!_Get_some_help! Mr. Chooljian." Armen went_to get help. Tony turned his_glare to Mr._Fleshmound. "I am not a Turk. I_have_never been to Turkey. In fact,_I'm_not even quite sure where Turkey_is._But,"_his glare intensified as he_zeroed in on Mr. Fleshmound, "I_sure know a turkey when I see one." An_electric shock seemed_to bl