I’m sick as a wet dog too so this may well be your last chance to see me in person though I’m looking into having my skull preserved after death so I can keep making appearances in movies…probably as a skull.

I actually did that one once. I came up from Florida for my cousin’s wedding in the late 90s and their gift was a set of really nice swords. For some odd reason, the airport security down in Tampa just refused to treat them as a carry on. Can’t figure out why they were so stubborn about it. Anyhow… The swords got on the wrong plane at the change over in Detroit and, while I flew in to Richmond, they went to Louisiana. Fortunately, they got them into RIC on the morning of the wedding.

The Wisenheimer was bored, airports were no fun
But, thought The Wisenheimer, I know what’s to be done

He looked around at the people all bored or at rest
Surely they would enjoy his magnificent jest

He snatched up his bag and yelled, “It didn’t Explode!”
“Damn,” he cried out, “next time a different payload!”

He snickered and grinned as all looked now with fear
Too bad he didn’t see that airport security was near

They moved in with great speed and tackled him down.
And on his butt the began to wail and to pound.

They stomped him with boots and beat him with clubs.
The Wisenheimer responded with sobs, gurgles and glubs.

The dragged him away to a dark little place.
Then they shined a 500 watt light in his face.

“Talk,” the shouted, “you slimy cad!”
“Are you getting your orders from Tehran or Baghdad?”

The Wisenheimer began to cry, beg and plea.
“We’ll get the truth from you,” they said, “just wait and see.”

The hours dragged by, how many not he knew.
Then came three men all dressed in suits of dark blue.

“We’re from the DHS and now we’ve interest in you.”
“You may call me The Man and these are Thug One and Thug Two.”

The Wisenheimer freaked out and told the truth of the matter.
The Man didn’t care, he liked to hear knuckles shatter.

With great zeal they worked him over for hours on end.
They experimented with ways you can make a body twist and then bend.

“You can’t do this to me,” protested The Wisenheimer, “torture is against the law!”
“Our boss said it’s not torture,” said a grinning Thug One, “maybe you saw.”

The Wisenheimer stuck to his story each time he spoke.
“It’s no good,” said Thug Two, “he just won’t be broke.”

“Well,” said The Man, “that leaves just one place to go.”
“Pack your things, Wisenheimer, you’re off to Guantanamo!”

The Wisenheimer went white and started sobbing and choking.
“It’s ok,” said The Man, “I’m cuttin’ you loose. I was joking.”

“The team just detonated you bag downtown at the dump.”
“All they found were some cloths and a questionable pump.”

The Man whispered one last warning into Wisenheimer’s ear.
Then out of the airport The Wisenheimer was thrown on his rear.

Since that day The Wisenheimer has not been quite the same.
His spirit is shaken and his mind has gone lame.

The moral of this story is quite easy to see.
Don’t f**k with the Department of Homeland Security.

That said, I’m glad you didn’t. I want your claim to fame to be your art and writing and possible murder by cats, not an albeit witty comment that’d have DHS putting you in a very small box to become Lefty’s girlfriend.