4 thoughts on “No, fill them with Killer Bees or Bald Faced Hornets.”
Leave it unlocked and observe from a short distance with the clue bat in hand.
Back around ’56/57, a little gang of wannabe mobsters were stealing bags, briefcases, suitcases, and anything left unattended for more than a few seconds in a rough section of Indianapolis near a Greyhound station.
Father of a friend of mine (Larry Fine, believe it or not) got ripped off by ’em. Suitcase had his passport, some important papers, and a .38. KInda pissed him off.
Larry got a bunch of us to help him collect old suitcases, map cases, and other hand-held bags, especially from the lost-and-found at our little town’s (about 20 miles from Indy) bus station.
Caught snakes and other critters, especially raccoons and stray cats, to put in the bags, then just left ’em by the benches at the bus station near the White River.
Coupla days later one of the guys showed me an article in the Indianapolis Star telling how a ’47 Plymouth with 3 “negro youths” went out of control and crashed through the display window of a store near the bus station.
According to the article, some kind of wild animal had got into the car when the boys weren’t looking and later “attacked the driver, causing him to lose control and drive through the building facade.”
I guess that cat (or whatever it was) got pretty damned tired of bein locked up in that suitcase and took out his frustration on the first guy he saw when he was freed.
That’s frikin genieass and funny shit right thar.
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Note to self
One of my grandmother’s cousins carried a decoy purse. Had it stolen at least two times.
Leave it unlocked and observe from a short distance with the clue bat in hand.
Back around ’56/57, a little gang of wannabe mobsters were stealing bags, briefcases, suitcases, and anything left unattended for more than a few seconds in a rough section of Indianapolis near a Greyhound station.
Father of a friend of mine (Larry Fine, believe it or not) got ripped off by ’em. Suitcase had his passport, some important papers, and a .38. KInda pissed him off.
Larry got a bunch of us to help him collect old suitcases, map cases, and other hand-held bags, especially from the lost-and-found at our little town’s (about 20 miles from Indy) bus station.
Caught snakes and other critters, especially raccoons and stray cats, to put in the bags, then just left ’em by the benches at the bus station near the White River.
Coupla days later one of the guys showed me an article in the Indianapolis Star telling how a ’47 Plymouth with 3 “negro youths” went out of control and crashed through the display window of a store near the bus station.
According to the article, some kind of wild animal had got into the car when the boys weren’t looking and later “attacked the driver, causing him to lose control and drive through the building facade.”
I guess that cat (or whatever it was) got pretty damned tired of bein locked up in that suitcase and took out his frustration on the first guy he saw when he was freed.
That’s frikin genieass and funny shit right thar.
.
.
.
Note to self
One of my grandmother’s cousins carried a decoy purse. Had it stolen at least two times.