The Tale of the Margaritas

Unknown

As I mentioned in a previous post, a few evenings ago a dalliance with a

nip of gin produced an account of the strange case of the missing Essex cars

that while certainly scientific, left certain issues somewhat foggy. It was

with high hopes for a deeper truth that I sallied forth last night to yon

local cocktail lounge to see what a small taste of tequila might reveal.

The tale the Margaritas told, dear reader, is too horrific to be revealed

in these humble posts, but I now know that this fair earth has been watched

and operated on by an extraterrestrial intelligence, one that is jealous of

our Essex cars and while willing to overlook the Lawrence Welk Show, has

drawn a line at the intergalactic electromagnetic frequency pollution in the

MTV spectrum. It is no accident my unsuspecting friends, that the Essex cars

have been slowly concentrating in New Zealand, ever so slowly so as not to

arouse suspicion . . .

Enough! I'm getting a chill in my spine just tapping out these few words.

I fear you must consult the Margaritas yourself to learn the rest of the

story!







Paul O'Neil, Hudson29@aol.com

Fullerton, California USA



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