This excerpt is from the S.W.A.C prequel, “P.R.O.B.E: Project Research Of Banned Experiments, where the future founders of W.I.S.K meets an interesting stranger during one of their not-so-great moments.
Shayla’s head was on a constant swivel. “This place isn’t that bad,” she said. “A few shady looking characters, but otherwise ok for being new.”
Al joined her after taking a sip of his beer. “Shady isn’t the word—more like ‘trailer-park-trash’ and ‘ghetto-reprobate-gumbo’, blah.”
Shayla flicked a palm side-to-side. “Eh, perhaps, but like that ‘grimy’ atmosphere. All these tough-looking guys. Whoo!” She shook her head, letting her natural locks flow and fly freely as she slightly stirred her martini and took another sip. “Come to mama!”
“Yee-ha! Ride em’ cowboy!” Trini tweeted with quizzical glares from her friends. “What?”
“This wasn’t a ride-em-cowboy-moment,” Renny crackled, “but it’s still good to see you two let loose a bit.”
“It wasn’t?” Trini queried confused.
“Naw, it wasn’t,” Trent said, shaking his head, “but I’m glad we’re all enjoying ourselves, we need to.”
“Se Amigo,” Renny beeped, “Escorias! What do they know!? We don’t need them, we’re smart… we’ll start our own DanielCorp! Urrrpp! Puntas!”
“O-kayy,” Shayla gasped, “looks like someone had a little too much Tequila.”
Suddenly, Trini yelped, “Look! They’re talking about us on the news!” She said, pointing to a TV screen. The group moved closer for a better listen of the Channel 10 News report of the failed experiment.
“Good evening everyone, I’m Chelsey Canyon, and I’m joined tonight by our newest Anchor, Timothy Thompson…”
“…And this is Channel Ten at Ten!” The duo chimed in unison.
“Yes, I am Timothy Thompson, esteemed journalist with impeccable credentials…”
“Who the hell is this guy!” Al chirped.
“Yeah,” Shayla snapped, “he looks like he probably has a pencil-dick!” She quickly popped a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say that!?” She looked to Trini and the two giggled.
“Ewwww!” They sang simultaneously. “Pencil-dick!” Al, Trent, and Renny all took a quick glance at each other and their ‘manhood’, and momentarily remained silent.
“Shhh,” fizzled Trent, “let’s see what they say.”
Timothy Thompson continued. “Tonight’s top story is the mysterious F-Five tornado that appeared seemingly out of nowhere and destroyed the White House’s South Lawn…”
“Yes Timothy,” Chelsey Canyon said, taking her cue. “The event has meteorologists and scientists alike baffled, as it was a beautiful, balmy and sunny day in the capital today….”
“Indeed, Chelsey… not a cloud in sight.”
“No, not one Timothy,” Chelsey replied annoyingly, “definitely sunny and clear skies. While there were at least a dozen minor injuries reported, and considerable damage; we’re all thankful there were no serious injuries or fatalities.”
“We will continue to keep you updated on this as details unfold.”
Their heads sank and hung low, as they looked to each other in a brief, sobering moment. “What are we gonna do now?” Trent buzzed.
“I don’t know,” Shayla retorted, “we’ll get through this—somehow, we always come out on top. We’re down, but not out…remember that.”
Just then, an older man of Hispanic descent approached their table. “Excuse me friends, I don’t mean to interrupt your festivities, I would just like a few, brief moments of your time.”
The quintet looked to each other again. “Um, sure,” Shayla, the group’s unofficial leader spoke, “what can we do for you?”
The man motioned to a chair. “May I?” The group returned the gesture. “My name is Miguel,” he began.