ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT!!

Sunday nights are always the longest (a 12 hour shift instead of an 8) and the slowest as well. So often I am left with plenty of time to get everything done and have some time to kill. However, someone else in the area decided to use their time to kill me!!!

The attempt appeared to most to be random, but after consulting my security counsel, headed by the esteemed Colonel Beauregard Sterling Lovell, it has been determined that this was in fact a very real and present danger aimed at destroying the last hope of the free world by eliminating the head of the Mookist Regime (That'd be me, people, pay attention!).

Of course the attack on me was only another plot in a series of recent events designed to take down the Mookist Regime. First, the fleas were sent in to bring down the Colonel. However, having been on post, I was able to douse, soap, scrub, and re-douse the feline. The Colonel was not happy, and didn't come around me for almost 24 hours for fear of getting it again. I have, over the years of his pitiful life, become almost violently and deadly efficient with my flea bath tactics. Instead of a long drawn out regurgitation of the War On Pests, this battle lasted a matter of minutes before the flea army was vanquished in one fell swoop, and about 25 gallons of water. Not one scout flea has been seen since the initial discovery of the insurgent bastards. Mookist Regime: 1, Enemies: 0

Then last night, at almost the stroke of midnight, a bigger, much more determined enemy decided to take their crack at the Mook, this time in human form. Clearly they knew that I am bulletproof with my soft gelatinous outer crust, and opted not to spray me down in a drive by, or hit me with a rooftop sniper. Nope, they did it the way they like to take out freedom loving Mookamaniacs the world around: Improvised explosive devices, or IED's for short. Most of you have heard of these deadly devices throughout the news as al-Qaeda has been known to use them all over the place to take out American soldiers in their various combat zones.

Well, my friends, it's clear that al-Qaeda has decided to step up their attacks, not overseas, but right here at home, in the good old U.S. of A.

That's right, despite what the White house or the Pentagon may or may not tell you, al-Qaeda has sent operatives right here to the Heartland! They may try to spin this off as just some random act perpetrated by pranksters, or some right-wing nutcase riled up by the likes of Rush, Hannity or Glenn Beck himself, or maybe just some poor soul who lost their house to the evil banks, but I assure you, after much research and maybe some enhanced interrogation techniques (but don't hold us to that, we will deny, deny deny!), that this was an orchestrated attack, hours, maybe even DAYS into the planning stages before they decided to unleash their evil plot.

Clearly they had infiltrated the Rentacop Headquarters, and gotten hold of the scheduling. They saw that I would be working, and that Supervisor Stew would be on duty. Once the suspicious device had been seen being delivered, it would be reported to Supervisor Stew. And Stew, always trusting in the Mook, would call me up to get me involved in the situation. One of the oldest tricks in a terrorists playbook: The Lure. You see, they purposely are seen dropping a package off, in an effort to bring in the command forces (like Stew) and any super duper tactical specialists (like myself). Usually the tactical specialist would go in for a close look and KABOOM, nothing but specialist krispies going snap crackle and pop in a smoldering mess of blood and guts. However, since I'm a SUPER DUPER (that's a technical designation) tactical specialist, I'm not easily fooled like that. Nope, instead we did the smart responsible thing and called in the local authorities bomb squad. It was either that or get into a big hissy fit over who had ultimate authority (clearly me), and that would've just made things a lot more difficult, and of course we're all about action around here. So anyways, the local authorities brings in the big fat bomb squad truck, also known as Natasha. Due to the damp conditions, they did not bring out the cool remote controlled robot, also known as Frank. So, one of the bomb techs suited up in the big EOD blast suit. If you haven't seen the movie The Hurt Locker you may not know what I'm talking about. But basically it turns you into some kind of martian looking guy, only way more bad ass. He has to walk in the x-ray equipment, to get an idea of what is in this small box we have discovered. After getting the pic and taking the equipment back to the truck, they are able to determine that there is "something" in the box, but not likely to be explosive. So the both of them take the long walk back to the box. Just as Tech 1 reaches the box to probe the edge, Tech 2 holds a cover position about 25 yards back. Tech 1 removes the paper cover (adorned with the word surprise,only with letter written backwards on it), and then proceeds to lift the box top off. Then it happened...


No one else saw it, but banana shaped missiles came flying out, under the cover of stealth cloak directly towards me. If I hadn't knelt down to light up my cigarette, I surely would've been decapitated. Luckily for the bomb techs it was rigged to go in one precise trajectory instead of full spread, or they would've been dead before they knew what they had found.

What they found instead was really weird. A couple banana peels, rubber banded together, with some crumpled paper inside them and a pen inserted thru the middle. Definitely something done on purpose and not just some random throwing trash out the window, thats for sure. I'm beginning to think al-qaeda must have some issues descrambling their Netflix account to get the MacGuyver episodes to play all the way through. Clearly they missed something, or they watched MacGruber instead of MacGuyver....hard to say, but either way, it was a near miss!


However, it turns out the War Chests are a bit depleted right now. But just think, you can change a life, and maybe even the world, if you adopt a poor little mook like (well, insert whatever picture of a poor starving lil child that makes you want to give money). Remember, 100% of all donations go towards fixing up the mooks, so they can go out and change the world. All for just a few dollars a day (Man, I really wish one of those adopt-a-kid commercials would come on, so I could make this even better!) you can change a lil mook's life, so that he can go arm himself to the hilt heavier than an AC-130 gunship and end all these wars by killing the bad guys, while still winning the hearts and minds of everyone else...even if he has to do a public version of the Carlton Dance to get that done!

Colonel Plans a Coup!

From the Desk of the Enlightened and Immortal General Mook, Supreme Commander of All He Surveys:

It's a new official title. Those who fear their own death through conspiracy often act irrationally. However, since it is me talking, my irrationality becomes rational. Most leaders who fear their being overthrown will act in one of two ways. They will either enhance their powers and eliminate threats through executive orders (up to an including the assassination of key figures), or they will recess into their own world of denial and reclusiveness. I however, being unique (the world is thankful for this) and special (think propeller beanie special) have chosen neither route. I have decided to document the conspiracy in case of an untimely demise, and of course use the occasion to bolster my already unnecessarily large ego. For yes, if I am to be the victim of a whacking, it only signifies just how important I must be.

Thus far, the Colonel has been somewhat passive in his undermining my authority. Forced marches to the food dish, sticking a claw into my lip to wake me up so that I let him out of the bedroom, and occasional attack training with my hands and arms. his "training exercises" have become much more frequent as of late. I'm sure he'll pounce any day now, once he feels he knows all my moves.

Lately however, he has become a bit more irritating. Standing watch from the east observation post (kids' bedroom window), everytime I come home from working out I sense he is taking notes on my activities. Not to be a better executive officer, but merely to gauge how it will all go down in the end. Whenever I come home from work, and just before I leave for work, he is exceptionally squirrelly. He runs back and forth erratically, with a mixture of some sort of low growl, yowl and meowing. It's a rather unnerving sound.

He has also engaged in random, but more frequent, intimate behavior. He will climb onto my lap as I sit here at the computer, and multiple times while I sprawl on the couch watching a game or a movie. He maneuvers his head in a way to encourage more petting. And sometimes now, he has even taken to laying on my bed with me. He seems to be irritated should I make any movement that might disturb his very particular feline decision on how to lay about.

Other times, I awake to see him on my dresser in front of the window. Not looking out the window, but staring me down. As if to say to my barely awake eyes, "I could've killed you in your sleep, but that would be too easy."

The Colonel uses my boots as a place to rub his face against from time to time. I suspect at some point he will just sidle up to them and pee in them just prior to me leaving for work.

Someone once said, "Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."

I suspect the Colonel has taken this to heart and is attempting to buddy up to me, in hopes that I let my guard down. I'm not falling for it. Not even for a minute. But I won't let on that I know what he's up to.

The Colonel may be under some sort of Feline Derangement Syndrome if he even thinks he'll have my seat of power around here. He may have my wife fooled, but sooner or later, once she realizes that the cat really is going to try to kill me she will be an ally of mine that he won't want to reckon with. He can take my skin, but he ain't getting my girl. He may attempt to counter an attack against her flank, but that isn't the wisest move in the world. She'll boot his fat cat butt to the moon in a heartbeat.

I'm sure he'll try to be slicker than that though. He's currently posted up looking out over the deck. A terrrorist squirrel is flaunting his mobility outside, which only taunts the Colonel into a foul mood. I'm fine with this of course. Whenever he is in one of those moods, he can't concentrate on his plans for me.

Which is all the better. No need to enable his portraying Brutus to my Julius Caesar! "Et tu, Kittykat?"