TRP - 'Schwalbe' ~ one

..."And now; For something completely different".... The Bog wasn't 'Boggy' enough to pose a challenge for the AmphiCats,so we spent about a half-hour churning it up with the V-150's Big Paddle-Wheels.(A better tool for that task than the VAB-SAN,which was propelled through the water by a Pair of Podded Propellers; Hassles to Clean & Lubricate.) The girls had me drive the Commando straight from the Bog to an Armored-Car Wash Party inside the Compound,rinsing that Fertile,Mucky Black Mulch onto the freshly evacuated Plot of Sativa. While having fun with the hoses,Annie,the High Priestess Pro-Tempore`,came out on the Lawn and called a Conclave to Convene in the Cabaret/Playroom. // During our Tour with the Working Party,'Doctor Deb-Bi' had been busy binging on Lez-Be-Friendly forms of Voyeuristic Grudge Fucking with the Mom-Squad. Deb was a Classic Beauty built in a slightly Bustier mold than Racquel Welch,and during an enjoyable afternoon,the girls had teased her to an eager pique anticipating my arrival 'On Stage'. Ensuring my own eagerness,I'd purposely sequestered myself in the Unimog's Cab,scooping out the Bog-Pit all afternoon. So,after painting all kinds of pretty/nasty pictures in my mind,Fate,in the form of the V-150's Marine Band Radio intervened most heinously akin to the Lyrical,'Running Like A Water Color In The Rain'; "Yo! Somebody fetch Woof. There's a Plane buried in the ground and it's got a World-War Two German Cross on the Wing". I jogged to the V-150 and grabbed the Mic Jan was stretching out,"The Archeology Students should know who to Call". "Aw C'mon Woooooof..",the Sea Dog wheedled,"..I believe in 'Finder's Keepers'". "I'm thinking in terms of Forty Year Old Live Ammo...Back The Fuck Away"! "Aw Fuck Yeah! Full-Head,Man!...WOOF SAYS QUOTE: BACK THE FUCK AWAY :UNQUOTE!...BECAUSE THE GUNS MIGHT BE LOADED,DIPSHIT"! I hung my head sadly as the sound of a 3/4 Ton starting & shifting into gear came across the airwaves,"I can't believe he's.." "YEAH,WELL I TRUST WOOFY'S INSTINCTS A FUCK-LOT MORE THAN YOURS"! "..still keying the Mic". // ~ Intermission ~ // It took less than 10 minutes for the Polezei to arrive and cordon-off the scene. To set that scene; I'd missed unearthing the Plane by about 4 feet while excavating the Bog-Pit. Water flowing from the Manifold to top-off the Bog eroded the soil above the Wing-tip,which,by-virtue of my experience building Model Airplanes,I was able to identify as belonging to an ME-262 Jet Fighter. My mind swiftly turned to Karl,the Shepherd overseeing Gibelstadt's Flock of 'Organic Lawn Movers',who had been Stationed at the Airfield during the waning days of WW-II,then decided to stick around and tend to it Post-War. I sent Ines into town to fetch him from his usual Perch beside the Fireplace at Rosie's Gasthaus,where I'd spent many hours listening to his extensive library of War Stories during my first,Brutally Harsh Winter in Germany. The Polizei allowed Karl to take a peek which verified my identification,then he wandered behind the Taped Cordon to occupy a Lawn Chair,sipping a cool Brew waiting for the Explosive Ordinance Team to arrive..... (Currently Listening To : Marillion : Holidays In  Eden)    
Topics: Incredastory, Mature