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From: israel@qantel.UUCP
Newsgroups: net.jokes
Subject: True Grit Mysteries II - Part 1 (A rerun)
Message-ID: <204@qantel.UUCP>
Date: Wed, 5-Sep-84 09:30:31 EDT
Article-I.D.: qantel.204
Posted: Wed Sep  5 09:30:31 1984
Date-Received: Sat, 15-Sep-84 07:03:29 EDT
Organization: MDS Qantel, Hayward CA.
Lines: 64


< Warning - if you're dumb enough to read this line, you're too dumb. >

Author's Note - For some reason, a number of network sites did not receive
the August 20th posting of True Grit Mysteries II - Part 1. Predictively,
I have been deludged (did I spell that right?) with mail requesting back-
copies of it. Therefore, being the gallant, fair-minded, sweethart of a guy
that I am, I'm giving you all another crack at it by reposting it. In the
future, anyone wanting a copy of a previous episode will have to come,
in person, to Berkeley, California, and buy me a pizza first. (Spaghetti
substitutions will be considered - don't forget the sausages.) Anyway...


TALES OF ROGER GUTS, P.I.

   After the Maltese Mousie caper, things got a little slow (except for
Ramona - I'd never seen anyone so fast with whip!). Consequently, when
I got a call from an old army buddy offering some work up in the San
Francisco Bay area, I sat up and took notice. Chuck Andrews was one
of the toughest, gnarliest army chaplins ever to wield a cross into
battle, so if he needed my help, I knew I was gonna have my hands full.
It turned out that the assignment was up at the UC Berkeley campus, so
if nothing else, the two of us could go out together to beat up a few
preppie wimps and remember old times.
   I arrived at Oakland airport the next afternoon. Oakland! The land
that spawned the Raiders! Home to one of the highest murder rates in the
world. Headquarters of the Hell's Angels!! It gave me goosebumps just
thinking about it. Then I saw him.
   He was tall, thin and kind of hungrey looking. His head was clean shaven,
except for a few thin strands tied off at the back with a white bow. He wore
a pink nightshirt and sandals. He smiled in my direction, walked over, and
handed me a flower. "Have you heard the word of the one true God, Hare Krishna?"
   I responded. "Have you heard the sound of an Israeli Uzi?" I pulled back
my machine gun bolt. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled around,
gun blazing. It was Andrews. I plugged him 20 times over, but he just smiled
at me.
   "Good old Guts. You haven't changed a bit. Lucky I wore my bullet proof
cassock. Who's your friend?" I turned around. The flower guy was lying in
a dead faint on the floor. Oakland ain't the town I remember.
   Andrews laid the scam out for me in the car to Berkeley. He was currently
administrating the ROTC on campus (they fiqured someone like Andrews could
put the fear of God back into recruits) and was of the opinion that someone
was embezzling Army funds from his section, probably via the use of their
office computer. It was my job to find him out, and nail the bastard to
the wall.
   "Since you're going to be hired as a consultant to the University,
you have to go to the main adminstration building and fill out a personnel
application. You'd better take this." He handed me a canteen of water and
three days worth of C-Rations. "If you come out of Sproul Hall alive,
drop by my office. Good luck, and God be with you, my son." With that,
he crossed himself, and drove away.
   I walked up the stairs to Sproul Hall, and stepped inside. My eyes
were immediately assaulted with a mass of human flesh, standing in uncounted
lines. "Damn you, Andrews, why didn't you tell me this was pre-enrollment
week?" This was going to be tough. I reached for the Uzi....

                        TO BE CONTINUED

-- 
Renegade of Berkeley
MDS Qantel
ucbvax!dual!qantel!israel

Disclaimer: "Who me? I wasn't even there!"