I recently received news from the Caribbean that Waynedale’s most infamous Racing Yachtsman, Charter Captain, and notorious practical joker has struck again. Local losers in the Virgin Islands were hanging around the captain’s boatyard doing drugs. The captain was sore about it and although he frequently threatened the shiftless skunks they more frequently ignored him. The captain finally had enough of their shenanigans and decided to take action. He went to a local rooster ranch that breeds fighting cocks (still legal throughout most of the Caribbean), selected the fastest rooster and named him Barrack. Besides being fast, aggressive and high-strung, Barrack had magnificent black and white feathers.
The captain brought Barrack back to his boatyard and clandestinely began his basic training to make him a “mission specific” rooster. Early each morning the captain collected fried bugs from beneath a bug zapper and hand-rolled them into a cigarette paper that looked exactly like a big fat marijuana cigarette. Next, the captain purchased miniature Baggies identical to the ones used by drug dealers to market their product and filled them with a variety of juicy worms and yummy insects. Barrack proved to be a fast learner who quickly developed a compulsive-obsessive craving for anything resembling a hand-rolled cigarette, or a miniature baggie.
Each day the captain played a game with Barrack and after he gave him the prize he attempted to take it back until it was impossible to catch his rooster. Barrack learned to snatch the prize, run like the wind and launch himself up into the nearest Mahogany tree where he would tear open his prize. After Barrack’s basic training he was given his freedom and allowed to patrol the boatyard.
At first it seemed like business as usual to the dopers. They scored their dope and shuffled to the nearest tree to roll a joint, smoke a rock or shoot their smack, but suddenly Narco rooster dashed over, grabbed their stash and flew to the safety of the nearest Mahogany tree. There was much gnashing of teeth, shouting, cursing and rock throwing, but to no avail. Barrack ignored their ballistic behavior, tore open his prize and scattered it to the wind.
One sad day not long after Narco rooster went on patrol, he stole a stash and an irate druggie with a pellet-gun shot him down out of a tree and wrung his neck. Soon after Barrack met with his untimely demise the captain visited the rooster ranch again and selected another high-speed rooster and named him Barrack “Two.” He said, “I’m going to have this one legally deputized so if the shiftless skunks wring his neck they can be prosecuted for assaulting an officer of the law. Cock-a-doodle-do. As the old Jimmy Buffet song goes: “It was just a Cuban crime of passion, messy and old fashioned. Yea, that’s what the people will say; in-da-tropics day come and day go.