“At least they weren’t Iike you, you drunken idiot,” Jim mouthed on, eyes dancing. “What a dumb ass, kick in a bar door for a drink and get caught.” “We never got caught,” I yelled back swiftly. “Thanks to me; how many cases did we hide? I’ll tell you, sixteen. Those cops didn’t find a single bottle. The worst thing they found were Buck’s pet skunks. I bet our prints are still all over that strip pit full of empty long necks. Anyway, I was thirsty, and it was either too late or too early to shop. Which is it at 3:00 a.m. anyway? They didn’t even get fingerprints,” I finished. “Well, they did off that airplane we pushed out in the road,” Jim retorted.

              The Endless Times series Volume Two: Murphys Diggins, page 26

              Feel a real-life story coming on? Here it is, Jim and I got the bright idea to push an old air-force jet from the local vets' meeting hall, out on the road. We managed to get it out there and the following Monday had personal invitations from the local police to come visit. It seems they got fingerprints off the little fighter and a few beer cans we left scattered around; oh, yea, plus from some paint cans where we graffitied the walls. It cost me a cow or two in fines, and can you believe it, they no longer wanted me in Air Force ROTC, said I was a bad citizen, and not officer material, so I quit.