The question:
name: J.D.email: ***police@*****.**m
re: http://www.gullible.info/archive.php?m=2005-12#post465
type of message: Positive
comments: Can you provide me with the source of you information on the drug pigs?
The answer:
Hello,You asked a few weeks ago about drug sniffing pigs, and where the information was from. My apologies for not replying sooner, I have been traveling around the sub-Sahara on a quest -- of sorts -- and the strangest thing happened. You undoubtedly heard about the cold snap in that region. Well, it came to pass that I was there during that cold snap, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Rather than just come back to the US (BORING!), I figured I'd just open up the paper and see where the hottest temperature in the world was. As it happened, it was in Bombay, India.
Now, J.D., I am not a man of empty promises, half-hearted efforts, nor am I full of boloney. If I resolve to go to Bombay, I am going to Bombay. So I hopped on a train and was on my way. After five days of traveling I started to get bored, and took to wandering around to other train cars, trying to engage strangers in conversation, or at least to steal a loaf of bread I could survive on for the next week. But even a life of petty crime (you can't touch me if it happened outside of your jurisdiction, right? your jurisdiction isn't Bombay, India, right?) was ne'er enough thrill for my wandering heart. Bags in hand, I jumped train two hundred and one miles from Bombay and started off on foot. Let me tell you this: that was a mistake. Flat out, no bones about it. I am willing to say that I thought it would help, but it didn't. Not at all. I'm a big enough man to admit when I was wrong.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I made it to Bombay and got a tattoo so I would have a good conversation starter that I could use to segue into the incredible journey I had just taken. Tattoo or not, I was in Bombay. I had accomplished my single, overarching goal. Bags in hand, (ONCE AGAIN!) I got on a plane to fly back to America. Just before they were about to close the door on the jet, though, I punched a flight attendant in the kisser (it's okay, he was a guy!!) and said, "hold on one second, I've got unfinished business with India." Then I pushed the door open, and spit on the ground, shaking my fists, then turning my gaze skyward yelling, "I beat you, India. You are now mine." Everyone on the plane was Indian, and the airline was an Indian as well. So that meant -- because I owned everything there -- there were free drinks for everyone on the whole plane. And if that story weren't enough of a hoot, guess what I had to drink! YOU GUESSED IT! Bombay Sapphire. What are the odds? Ha ha ha.
Long story short, if you need some really chill people to hangout with in Bombay, drop me a line. I've got like 200 names and phone numbers and they all owe me a drink.
-Kyle
