A whiteboard filled with acronyms and squiggly colored marker lines.
A short person, fanny-pack over abs of steel, arms crossed, glasses fogging.
Machines clicking, levers popping, radars blinking (i)now you see us, now you don't(i).
"What's she doing out there?"
"CAN Y'ALL HEAR ME?"
Nobody said anything.
"(i)Good.(i) I really wantcha to land my President on the top of my head!"
A stifled cough burst into a clogged-pipes chest fit.
"I flat-topped just for the occasion."
"Then we'll go (i)home(i)?" Someone asked like a ventriloquist.
"Let's get that Daddy home first. Then we've got like six movies starting to film in town today."
"No shit," somebody yawned.
An announcement announced the taking charge. First question: What's the Threat Level here?
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