Cecil & Carl

     The following story has many facts, truths, half truths and assumptions or assumations.....which really isn't a word, but I like the way it sounds.

     Cecil and Carl were quite a pair.  They were not young dudes, in their 50's and 60's respectively, but they did not think of themselves as old.  They always wore matching Grateful Dead tee shirts and had, for the most part, remained lost somewhere in the year of 1965.  Also, neither had cut their hair since that time.

     They could recite every Cheech & Chong script ever written.  If Carl would go out to get pizza, when he arrived back at their small, poster lined walls apartment, Cecil would have the door locked. Carl would knock on the door and Cecil would ask, "Who's there?"

     Carl always answered, "Hey man, it's me, Carl." 

     "Carl?" Cecil would reply.

     "Yeah man, it's me. Carl!  Open the door, man!"

     And every time, Cecil would say, "Carl?  Hey man, Carl's not here."  Then they would laugh like idiots.  

     Cecil and Carl were not the sharpest crayons in the box.

     One day Cecil and Carl came to the realization their pizza fund was about down to zero.  They decided to go to the beach and ponder on their situation.  As they strolled down the wet packed sand, in their souvenir Grateful Dead flip flops, on a beach in sunny southern California, they were approached by a man.

     This man was much younger than Cecil and Carl and thought of himself as a wise business person.  He knew the moment he saw this pair, he had found who he was looking for.  He introduced himself as Smoothcriminal and struck up a conversation with the motley duo.  Cecil and Carl had never met a stranger and began to tell Smoothcriminal about their plight of the pizza fund.

     Smoothcriminal listened intently and told Cecil and Carl, "Such a deal I have for you!"  Smoothcriminal went on to explain that he had a car that needed to be driven to the east coast.  His friend lived there and needed this car in a bad way.  Smoothcriminal could not take the time to drive the car that far and his friend was in the same boat.  He asked Cecil and Carl if they would be interested in doing this for him.  Smoothcriminal assured them that, if they took this job, they would have enough money in the pizza fund to last them a year.

     Cecil and Carl were elated.  Why, certainly they would do this for Smoothcriminal, because they knew Smoothcriminal was just an awesome dude.  

     Smoothcriminal handed Cecil and Carl the keys and pointed up the beach to where their chariot awaited.  Cecil and Carl high fived, wow manned, far outed and chest bumped each other all the way to the car.  It was road trip time and they could not have been happier.

     Cecil and Carl headed out on the highway, eastward bound.

     Somewhere in the great state of Illinois, Cecil and Carl got pulled over by the police because they were going 90 mph down the interstate.  Not only were they traveling far over the speed limit, neither had a valid driver's license and the car had no insurance.
In the trunk of the car, the police found 150 pounds of marijuana with a street value of $500,000.00.

     No one knew for sure if pizza was a popular prison cuisine.

     Mr. Notsosmoothcriminal went into hiding somewhere in the one of the rain forests of the great Northwest.

     The police never knew there had actually been 160 pounds of marijuana in the trunk.

     My proofreader has been on me about not writing.  She is right, I've had a lot of things going on lately.  A lot of things on my mind. I think maybe I've been riding in the back seat with Cecil and Carl.