Mission Mission

Congrats, Mr. Cruz. We wish you well.

We do wish you’d reconsider your decision to practice your new livelihood at a more suitable office location, however. Nevertheless, your plainly mounted degree, visible to all, helps us to appreciate what is surely a high degree of skill that you offer your clients.

‘Cause I may have found it. Better go claim it before that window looky-loo figures out where it is.

On second thought, this could be the turning point in some really good story involving cat burglars, a mystical ankle bracelet found in a pawn shop, and roof people versus alley people.

Friday night, with the shops closed, and while other people socialized in bars or at parties, a few of us walked the streets like creeps and browsed some promising future shopping opportunities. I now present to you:

THE MASK

Now you can dress like the titular character of the 1994 Jim Carrey film, based on the comic book of the same name! Somebody stop you! They can’t!!

THE BOOTY

Now you can have the booty you’ve always wanted, with cheeks clenched tight enough to turn a lump of coal into a diamond!

THE WATCHMEN

Now you can watch yourself watch a tiny monitor that displays a live feed of you squinting into an empty storefront to see what the hell is on the tiny monitor on the ground at the far side of the bare floor!

So much fun to be had out there!

Tonight we find more mistreatment of animals.

First they put dead herons on signs, then we all eat dead animals in restaurants*, and now our internet friend/troll Cranky Old Mission Guy has been piecing together what looks to be some kind of bizarre criminal act. The evidence is as follows.

The head of a chicken.

The head of a reindeer.

The weapon?!?!

And finally, the suspects:

Actually, Crank has a better description of this scene:

“(left-to-right) Fred’s white girlfriend, Fred, and some neighborhood activist they don’t know, who is interrupting their make-out session.”

Seriously, that chicken head makes me sad. And I do feel mean about joking about a dead animal’s head lying on the ground. But I eat meat, so I obviously don’t have much regard for a chicken’s life or treatment. (sigh)

*I know.

UPDATE: Thanks to Crank’s fine detective work, the prime suspect has been apprehended!

Is like a Bike without a Wheel.

Is like a Shoe without a Foot.