Inconvenience Store


So ok, you’re driving home around midnight from the worst job in your life and

you stop in the middle of the Indian River bridge to pick up the incredibly

drunk sailor who’s trying to either hitchhike or perhaps commit

pedestrian/vehicular suicide. Don’t matter.

Take him back to Cape Canaveral Air Force Station to get to his sub, which is

parked in the Trident Basin.

At the gate, the guard peruses your civilian nonbadged, scumbucket self driving

your rusty hippy VW van, and the drunken sailor’s badge.

“Yeah, ok. Go ahead.”


In we go.

And by golly, after going less than a mile, you arrive on a wharf where a

motherfucking Los Angeles Class attack sub is sitting there as pretty as you

please, guarded by exactly ONE bored dude, sitting on a stool near an open hatch

in the deck. Not another soul to be seen in the midnight air. Your sailor exits

the van, thanks you for the ride, and reels across the gangplank and enters the


Drive home, shaking your head.

Here’s the deal:

Bus: Thirty guys inside.

Tugboats: Two each, idling dockside in Port Canaveral, ostensibly there to

service somebody’s large freighter or something.


Bus blows through the south gate at Cape Canaveral, even as the tugs suddenly

move into the Trident Basin.

Drive to the wharf, where the thirty guys disembark, dressed in chemical suits.

Pitch a nerve gas grenade down that open hatch, after blowing away the one bored

dude who was guarding a very expensive and volatile national asset.

Tugs move alongside the sub, as the crew of thirty commandeers the controls from

the dead guys inside the sub.

Fire up the sub’s motors, as the tugs lash on, and rotate it around to depart.

Tug crew bails out and enters sub.

Sub exits the port, and does what all good subs do, which is disappear for good.

Total elapsed time, perhaps a half hour.

On shore, lots of screaming and hollering, folks in uniforms running around, and that’s about it.

Bye bye.

Two options:

Number one: Take your sub and become a serious naval power.

Number two: Take your sub to a distant secret location and cut it up. Inside, in

the reactor core, you’ll find lots and lots of bomb grade fissile material. Make

the bomb(s). Hijack New York, or perhaps Chicago.


Would somebody please lock the sub and turn out the lights when they’re done?

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