By Gonz Blinko
I called Uncle Sonny and he sent a couple of the Austin Chapter Angels out to check up on the Chairman. He also provided us with a ton of Florida guys to help in our rescue mission. Maybe the paranoia got to me after flying around the globe, going through a hurricane and spending time in Florida, – the epicenter of bizarre. George W. Bush has his axis of evil but Tampa, Orlando, Miami is definitely the axis of weird.
The Angels from Austin reported back that Chairman Mal and the BPP clearly have nothing to do with BC’s disappearance. I heard they decided Mal seemed like a decent sort and brought him and a few of the other BPP guys out for a night of serious beer, booze, blues and babes. I have always trusted those guys as, no matter what the media says, no Hell’s Angel ever did anything to hurt Gonz Blinko and many have helped out with favors and such. Now, we have a virtual battalion of very hip guys on Harleys helping out down in Florida too.
The Arial recon showed us that Manatee and Sarasota Counties have very little to show for themselves. It also seems to show that BC is being held either by neo-nazi nutcases or some kind of bizarre Deliverance cult. For his sake, I hope it’s the former.
Sam showed up at my door with the first report.
“It looks like we have five or six likely compounds where he might be and a few more possibilities that we need to check out.”
“El Negro and the bikers, have they started gathering data on the ground?”
“Yeah, they’re taking a look at all of the spots, the high probables and the others too. The terrain here kind of sucks. It’s either the Gulf of Mexico, ugly million dollar condos, trailer parks or the woods. It seems like these towns have no zoning boards as the layout feels pretty random.”
Just then, Samhara’s mobile phone rang.
“Sam,” she answered.
Then, she switched to French. I recognized some words and phrases. Mostly gushy, lovey stuff. I had never heard Sam go so soft so quick and the kissy, kissy at the end of the call made me wonder if she had been kidnapped by aliens and replace with some kind of replicant.
“Who was that,” I inquired.
“Moes’ former maid.”
“She’s really French?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve gone all mushy on me?”
“Well, Moes and Tristessa fired her after the attack by the guys from Freeman Scientology when they decided to go into hiding. I’ve heard they’re leaving the country.”
“Getting back to BC,” I tried to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“Oh, yeah, we have some big news.”
“Go on.”
“He managed to kite a message out to his wife.”
“What did it say?”
Samhara reached into her Gore-Tex holster and pulled out a slip of paper. It is very short and only says, “I’m out of my hed, please hurry for I may be dead, they mustn’t carry out their evil deed.”
To be continued…
Howdy Comrades! After my vision worsened, I thought there was little point in visiting Hippie Hollow, our clothing optional beach in Austin. Blinko’s Angel friends have a very progressive approach to Affirmative Action, and showed me some fascinating alternative techniques. I now realize Hippie Hollow can be blind friendly. My fears for poor old BC were temporarily distracted, but the note to his wife reminds me of the peril he is confronting. All BPP elements in Florida are hereby ordered to assist the Angels at Dr. Blinko’s direction. Regards, Chairman Mal: Power to the Peeps!