Voltaic Junkyard--Paramedics

   
   "Voltaic Junkyard--Paramedics"
   
   Sheila was munching on a slice of Italian pie, just anchovies this time, no gummi bears, feeling less preggers, listening to the bullshit news; however, if you read between the lines--you kinda get the gist of it.  Paramedics report cops wouldn't let them in during the twisted shooting in Florida.  Maybe not pussies armed with inaction.  Maybe paid off.  Occam's Razor suggests they had contact with the FBI; thus, if your local Sheriff was associated with the FBI--he's usually a crook and fink, unless he likes John Wayne movies--in every John Wayne movie, the Duke gets shot in the leg, mostly.
   Sheila didn't care anymore.  Faction this, faction that.  CIA hate FBI, NSA loathe Park Rangers--just go out and read a spy novel or watch a Tom Cruise movie--what, you think America is totally pure and doesn't fuck with its own people?  Yeah, if you're tied into the lies; next, that's what you'll say.  Everyone plays everyone.  It's all agenda.  Paranoia?  Just ask all those parents of the myriads of teenage girls that go missing every year.  Where do they go?  Sitting at Grandma's house eating Chicken Noodle Soup?  At the Temple found by Mary and Joseph?  
   Sheila heard the adversary's voice in her head:  "Just shut up and take your Xanax."  She mentally had Bruce Lee kick him in the mouth; then thought:  "Thanks dude."
   Poor Adam.  Was he figuring things out?  A little brother, so normal, so led by the ways of an intruding world.  The smart man, well--he lives like Grizzly Adams.  Can you blame him?