CSI: American Carnage (Monday, Auguest 12, 2019)
BENEATH THE CENTRAL PLAINS – Far beneath the placid croplands basking in the cool summer sun, the Dark Ones sit in the Atrium of Anticipation, the welcome center connected to the northernmost tunnel leading topside from the vast central plains complex. My brother, says the elder, I do not understand why our video feed from the MCC shows nothing of events on Saturday morning. We have tape of the feedings. We have tape of the evening card games. Then nothing. It is most strange given the turn of events. The younger says, Indeed my brother. Perhaps it is not unexpected. Remember Father also suffered from surveillance failures. His tracking device for the one they called Hoffa, was mysteriously broken. The elder says, Yes, yes. I remember that Father was so very annoyed because the malfunctioning device kept beeping from Section 107 at the old Giants stadium in the Meadowlands. The younger says, Yes. Very irritating. And it showed nothing from the foundation cement of the Renaissance Center, nor did it indicate any activity from the Detroit Sausage Company. The elder says, Father had no patience for nonsense. Nor do I. We shall get to the bottom of this recent fiasco as soon as the Hoosier Puppet arrives. At this moment, the door at the end of the entrance tunnel opens and Mike approaches. When he reaches the welcome area, he drops to his knees and lowers his eyes in obeisance. Mike says, My lords, I bring greetings from His Magnificence who wishes you to know that we have raised more than $12 million on Long Island and another $5 million on Nantucket. The elder brother says, Did the Urine Collector participate in the Long Island taking? Mike, head bowed and eyes still on the floor, says, No my lords. He has directed his financial resources toward support for the Anglosphere Society and its efforts to preserve the English language now under threat from gay Hispanics and other illegals. I have pleaded for some of his pocket crumbs, but the yowling of his cats has drowned out my pleas and he has arrogantly dismissed us all, including you my lords, which I think is more than too much. Rise, says the elder brother, and tell us what has happened. What of this debauchée fiasco? Mike scrambles to his feet. My lords, he says, I must pass along the blessings of our pastor who even as we speak is with mother exploring Little St. James Island in an effort to determine the course of events. The younger says, But the debauchée disappeared in New York City. Mike says, My lords, there is a long trail. It is said that not all was burned on the island. The younger says, Was it? Mike say, Yes. There was apparently some kind of satanic ritual bonfire and all of the papers in the mansion and out buildings were used to stoke the devil’s flames. The elder says, Yes, yes, yes. What happened to the debauchée, that’s what we want to know. Mike says, I was on Nantucket Island at the time, as I recall, sound asleep. I had just defeated the noted cyclist Lance Armstrong in a road race and I was fatigued, so I retired early. His magnificence was also asleep in the New Jersey territory. I understand Bill Barr was asleep. But there was considerable activity in Chappaqua, but I know nothing of that beyond what I read. – Monday, August 12, 2019