I am apparently being hit by some ne'er do well, ad hoc bombing collective - I'm writing this from 'the man-bunker'.
Some group of hooligans calling themselves the "Let's Bomb Blackhorse / Secret Squadron / Attack of Doooooom Group" (following their mass escape from the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane) have taken it upon themselves to 'get me'. Thus far they have been successful!
Yesterday the first package snuck in with the regular mail. What a vile trick! A collection of rare and extremely aged premium tins. Today, right smack dab in the middle of my sending out the REAL Squadron's mission orders, the bell rings and a couple more boxes arrive. One heavy enough to contain a cubic meter of a collapsed star...the other nearly bigger than a VW Beatle! The postman was muttering something under his breath...and it's only about a hundred feet down the drive to his truck! What a wuss.
But...three bombs...I mean, that's reasonable. I can deal with that. They haven't gotten to me yet! I'll survive! Nooo problem.
(More on this as events transpire.)
Some group of hooligans calling themselves the "Let's Bomb Blackhorse / Secret Squadron / Attack of Doooooom Group" (following their mass escape from the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane) have taken it upon themselves to 'get me'. Thus far they have been successful!
Yesterday the first package snuck in with the regular mail. What a vile trick! A collection of rare and extremely aged premium tins. Today, right smack dab in the middle of my sending out the REAL Squadron's mission orders, the bell rings and a couple more boxes arrive. One heavy enough to contain a cubic meter of a collapsed star...the other nearly bigger than a VW Beatle! The postman was muttering something under his breath...and it's only about a hundred feet down the drive to his truck! What a wuss.
But...three bombs...I mean, that's reasonable. I can deal with that. They haven't gotten to me yet! I'll survive! Nooo problem.
(More on this as events transpire.)