GIVE ME TOURISM OR GIVE ME DEATH

THE GRIM REAPER PATROLS THE BEACHES OF PENSACOLA BEACH

I was stone cold dead to the world after stopping off at the Jellyfish to top last evening off with a few shots of Absinthe out of my personal bottle that they keep stashed under the bar for me for slipping them a c-note every couple of months.

As I slowly regained consciousness, I realized that there was this irritating beeping going on that suddenly stopped just as my feet hit the floor. Must have been dreaming.

I shuffled into the kitchen to slam down a bottle of India Pale Ale and hit some Maui Wowie in the very cool blown glass bong that I had made down in Columbia. A wake and bake minus the coffee. Caffeine later! The hangover first.

That fucking buzzing started up again. Holy shit, I suddenly realized that was my satellite phone ringing. I hadn't heard that damn thing ring in years! I kept it on it's charger behind a panel in my closet. Stumbling and finally falling headfirst into the closet, I pulled the panel open and grabbed the phone and hit the ON button.

The voice on the other end was laughing somewhat hysterically.

"You sound like you two had quite a wild evening."

"We met a buddy of mine last night and drank  about a gallon of tequila. I left when Shelly challenged my friend to a naked wrestling match. You know how that ends. I didn't want to stick around for the screaming, so I took my leave and wound drinking  grain alcohol at a local joint. Long time no hear, my man. What's up?"

"When Shelly said she was dropping in on you it reminded me of where your hanging your hat these days."

"And?" I walked back into the kitchen and flicked on the coffee maker. The Maui Wowie was starting to relieve some of my incredible nausea.

"You're in a area where some of the politicians have some people..who let's say have some concerns about their judgement."

"This isn't a wet work offer is it?" My nausea suddenly flare. "I'm retired! We all signed the agreement."

Roaring laughter came through the phone. "I can always tell when you've been smoking the good shit. Hell no, this isn't a job offer. I just need an opinion. The people I'm talking about are throwing a shitboat of cash towards him getting re-elected and they don't like what they're seeing in Florida. These guys are shitting their pants that this Corona virus will lose the election. And they don't want to kill off a bunch of their followers at the goddamn convention in Jacksonville. It just wouldn't look good." He was snickering like an old pervert at a San Francisco peep show.

"OK. What do you need to know?"

"The bug is mutating like a son of a bitch down there. The state is setting record daily numbers and the Florida politicians keep acting like it's life as normal. In other words, just what in the fuck is going on down there?"

It suddenly dawned on me what the hell was going on! "You son of a bitch! You talked to Shelly this morning and you thought it would be a hoot to wake my hungover ass up! Didn't you? My opinion, my ass! Because you already know the reason why this state is the next epicenter."

"Tourism!"

   

MAHALO