*** YHC sadclowned, but had coffee with Freedom, Tantrum, Black Eyed Pea and TBone.  Therefore they deserve credit.

YHC pushed out his Fallout Q to today due to travelling last week.  I also had previously signed up for Gladiator.  Fortunately, Popcorn saw it and graciously took the Gladiator Q.  Welp….. he had 15 at Gladiator and Fallout………..

Prologue:  Long ago in a galaxy far far away……

It was a crisp cool and dark gloom when YHC left his eastside neighborhood.  Being the only F3er in the ‘hood it was odd to have a black sedan with tinted windows follow me out.

Chapter 1:  Driven

YHC is a generally optimistic person who makes positive assumptions, so having noted the car, I press on.  Turning right on Hwy 115 I immediately encounter flashing lights and a traffic stop.  The hackles on my neck stand up straight and I start to think as the galactic republic’s Admiral Ackbar would say “its a trap!”

Passing through the traffic stop and proceeding to the roundabout, I notice the car still looming behind.  Now YHC has seen enough Liam Neeson movies to know that to shake a tail you change your routine.  So I make a turn at a different location.  Still there.  And again.  Still there.  But does he know he’s been made?

The tension is strong, I turn off the radio and firmly grip the wheel at 10 and 2.  I must be on my game in the event I have to make a move.  Unbeknownst to my tail, my father was in the Secret Service and expertly trained in evasive driving tactic; some of which he passed on to YHC.  Other skillz I gained from driving at an early age across the pasture on grandpa’s farm.  As Sherlock would say “the game is afoot.”

Chapter 2:  Arrival

As the route continues my confidence grows.  I’ve watched enough Jason Bourne movies to know that situational knowledge is power.  I know my stalker is real but I know that with each passing moment, I gain the advantage.  For awaiting me at my final destination of Richard Barry Park, home to Fallout and other great AOs, is a pax of at least 10 who call me brothers and will go to war with me.  Feeling bullet proof on the confidence of the pax I drive on, entering straight in to the parking lot.  The sedan follows.  Bring it, I think to myself.  Then I think, that in the movies Bourne’s real name is David Webb, which leads me to remember Jack Webb, and I think hey I need to add some Jack Webb into the routine today.  As I pull in I see several cars at the top of the lot but not at the bottom where we park.  Then YHC notices several cases of water and bulk plastic containers on the sidewalk.  I’ve seen enough Denzel Washington movies to know this is all just a front for a drug cartel moving black tar heroine through Isotope.  I make a mental note to circle back on this and take out the riff-raff in the community….or at least get Scrappy to do it legally.  Scratch that, I can’t involve Scrappy.  I’ve seen enough Russel Crow movies to know the judge is either in on it, or gets taken out in a sad way.

Chapter 3:  A dark time cometh

As I progress down the lot, I come to realize the cars are there dropping kids off for a school field trip.  I press on to the bottom of the lot and pull in to a parking spot with no one around.  This is it.  This in the penultimate climax scene.  Mono a mono.  To quote the great 20th century poet and philosopher Flo Rida “its going down for real.”   My presumed assailant must know it.  He had to have made a call back to his handler to see how to proceed.  Maybe he got an order, maybe he got cold feet.  But he bails out and whips it into a spot in the upper lot.   With tragedy narrowly averted and heart rate settling back down into Zone 1, YHC should be feeling relieved.  But as I sit there all alone like Forest Gump on a park bench watching the clock pass 0530, then 0532, then 0535 despair sinks in as the realization sinks in.  Like a junkie waking up in his own filth in the back alley of life, I must admit that I am alone.  But why?  It was the strength of the pax potential that gave me the strength to survive 4 action movies worth of trials and challenges already this morning.  I’m at the bottom of my rope.  Hanging on with my pinky.  And it is quivering.  That is when the spirit prompts me to turn the radio back on.  As if she is my fairy godmother, Taylor Swift speaks life into my heart and my soul and reminds me “its me, hi, I’m the problem…its me.”

Chapter 4:  Homecoming

So as not to be the creepy guy running around in all black in the dark at an elementary school with kids outside, YHC decides to go to the business park and run a loop or two.  I pull in to the parking lot, see a few cars I recognize.  Knowing that pax rucks at 0500, seeing 0545 on my watch I audible and plod in to Starbucks, have a good cry, regain my composure, sit up proud and straight, put on a welcoming and confident smile and look at the door like Henry the labradoodle waiting on Enron to come home.   In walk Black Eyed Pea, Freedom, TBone, and Tantrum.

Epilogue:  Emergence

YHC usually ends his standard backblasts with a “what I learned today.”  So let’s do it.  What I learned today.  Have an imagination.  You think I made up a fun tale for a backblast but this was 99.9% true, including thoughts and all.  Life has enough boring regularity.  Spice it up and make even a drive to a morning workout an adventure.  But as the M would remind me from all the murder podcasts she listens to (don’t judge her, your wife listens to them too), in any situation “Stay Wierd, Stay Rude, Stay Alive”.   And as I tell myself when I’m feeling overweight “fat people are harder to kidnap.”

Author’s note:  I’ll talk to my publisher Drebin and see when the sequel comes out.