CRIMES AGAINST FRAU CHICKENS

My blog is getting to be just like a box of cheap chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.



Warning, don't read this post if you are easily haunted.

I've been wondering if I should tell you all some stories of crimes and criminals. It is, unfortunately, a major portion of my past life. How should I tell them, maybe the only way I know how, some with humor, some with vicious disregard to whomever may take offense.

I'll start off with a pleasant holiday story. Thanksgiving and the reason I gave thanks that a dear friend and I decided to go to Vicenza, Italy on Thanksgiving day and party instead of partaking in family festivities of which we neither possessed at the time. Besides, on holidays the big mess hall would put on the Ritz and that's where everyone ate, including the Generals.

I had been working a case that had been the butt of many jokes, I had lost my own sense of humor about it as many times a day I would be asked if I had caught the "chicken fucker" yet. You see, some crap just makes no sense, no sense at all. This damn case was HIGH PRIORITY! Yeah, cause the chickens getting buggered were krauts. They belonged to Krauts and the Krauts that owned the dead bugged to death kraut chickens were understandably a bit angry. I mean, what do you do with a buggered chicken? Fry him up for Sunday dinner? I think not.

So I kept my mouth shut and I worked this case day and night, keeping up about 30 to 40 other cases in the mean time. On the third stake out, that's right, the third stake out, like I was hunting an international jewel thief, I caught the guy in the act. Oh it was nasty. The farmer thought I was James Bond for God's sake. So, it's about 2 am on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. This guy had just gotten off work at the mess hall and gone out to his favorite farm for a little extra curricular activity.

Now things don't work quite like they do here in home town America. Mr. Chicken Man was on foreign soil committing his acts of buggery and there is a little thing called the SOFA (Status of Forces Agreement) which means we generally just toss a coin in the air and who ever wants to prosecute him the most gets him. We HAVE to ask the Germans if they want him or if they want us to charge him. Okay, hope you got that down so you don't go blaming me for any of the rest of this crap.

As soon as I finish with Chicken Mans paperwork and close my case file I am off to Italy. No one will be back to work to speak of till Monday, given the Thanksgiving holiday. I called Chicken Man's First Sergent to come collect him up, put my case folder in the stack on my bosses desk, okay okay, I stuck it under a couple files...and I left.

My friend I was traveling with had spent six tours in Vietnam as as assassin. Needless to say I felt quite safe in his presence. We departed Germany in the wee hours of the morning and somewhere in the Bologna mountains we stopped at a "truck stop" for a cup of coffee. It was the tiniest little cup, like a child's tea set, one swig, my eyes flew open and my butt slammed shut, I was wired.

I told my friend the story of the Chicken Man, we laughed till we were sick., he told me I had finally risen to his level of evil, I was very proud.

I had a friend stationed at Vicenza and he and his family had invited myself and a guest down to see his huge villa just a half a block away from Sophia Lorens Movie studios, that happened to be closed at the time, I believe this was during their tax troubles.

My dear friend was going to visit some Carbonari that he knew when he had been stationed there years before.

We had a great time in Italy, I have some interesting pictures that I will post here hopefully soon. Especially of the little man I found laying on an old dock at Port of Livorno.

Monday morning I showed up for work bright and early, then I heard my name and bad swearing, gaging and then a couple people started to vomit. I laughed and I laughed, oh I laughed, I laughed all the way out the door because I don't like the smell of vomit. I went to the canteen and had coffee and laughed some more.

You see, like I said, Chicken Man worked at the mess hall and he wasn't really Chicken Man, he was Poultry Man, he confessed that he had had his way with and left a deposit in every turkey caucus trussed up for Thanksgiving dinner before popping them into the oven. He also enjoyed stuffing and various puddings, all specially seasoned. He did swear that he had only seasoned the Officers mess pudding....but I don't know. So glad I was in Italy.










Go ahead, tell me how disgusting this is and how I shouldn't be allowed to Bloggerfy anymore.