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Yo!

This is a story I wrote about 4 years ago. It has all the well developed characters that lived in TC’s neighborhood in Hollywood, California. TC, himself is at his full development in all his little ways of doing things. If you followed TC through the years you know he changed and developed to the character that is in this story.

Enjoy TC in all his glory as he gets himself into a big mess with his new neighbor Clint Eastwood.



TC arose early on Saturday morning and sat down on his imitation nagahyde leather sofa and reached for the imitation plastic remote control for his imitation wood grained encased TV. TC then flicked through the stations until he found his favorite cartoon show.

“Darn that Roadrunner got away from that coyote pally again. I thought he had that pesky Roadrunner this time. I think I’ll email Whyllie Coyote and tell him to forget all that ACME crap and buy one of my Genuine Roadrunner Kilters.� TC thought to himself as he heard a sound of a large truck outside of his house. TC got up from his imitation nagahyde sofa and walked over to the window and peered out.

“Hmmmm….. Seems like we have a new neighbor moving in across the street. I hope he’s not an odd ball like the rest of the people living on this street.� Said TC to himself as he cracked open a fresh can of diet Coke.

“Holy moving van Batman.� said the boy wonder as the dynamic due stopped their morning game of croquet. “Yes Dick, it appears our new neighbors are moving in. I hope he’s not an odd ball like that jerk Tigercat.� said the caped crusader.

“No one can be as bad as that loser Tigercat. Not even the guy in the Chuck-E-Cheese suit.� said Dick Grayson
“Quick Robin, duck behind this Bat-Bush. It appears that Tigercat is crossing the street to greet our new neighbor.� said Bruce Wayne millionaire playboy.


“I think I’ll be neighborly like and go introduce myself to our new neighbor and welcome him to the neighborhood.� Thought TC to himself as he laced up his finest pair of barrowed bowling shoes and splashed on 3/4 ‘s of a bottle of Aqua Velva.

“You fellas did a fine job moving my furniture to my new house. Not a scratch.� said Clint as he was writing out a check for MoveMasters.
“Thank you Mr. Eastwood. We at MoveMasters try to do our best.� said the moving man.
Clint looked up from his check writing to see TC coming over from across the street.
“Oh no, what’s this thing coming across the street, looks like a reject from loserville.� said Clint in his usual tone of voice.
“Hey Yo! Pally! said TC as he approached the famous actor. “I’m your neighbor from across the street.�
“I know, I seen you wading through that jungle of a lawn of yours. Don’t you own a lawn mower?� ask Clint Eastwood.
“Well..errr….no pally, mind if I barrow yours? I’ll bring it back to ya tomorrow.� Asked TC
“What are neighbors for, sure go ahead Mr..ahh..� asked Clint.
“The names Tigercat, but my friends call me TC. What your name pal?�
The names Eastwood, Clint Eastwood, you know the actor.� said Clint.
“Never heard of ya pal. Were ya ever on an episode of Gilliagan Island?� asked TC
“No� replied Clint
“Then how about F-Troop?�
“NO�
“OK, how about Mr. ED, or a Leave it to Beaver?�
“NO, I never did a Mr. ED or a Beaver.� said Clint in his soft but stern tone.
“Then just what were ya in pally?� said TC
“Well I just make movies now, but I did do some TV work. Ever hear of a TV show called Raw Hide?� said Clint “And by the way, who are those two loser odd balls across the street hiding behind that bush wearing the masks and capes?� asked Clint

“Them two? Their just a couple of super-hero crime fighters. And never mind about the TV show thing pally.� Said TC as he started back across the street with Clint’s lawn mower. “He calls himself and actor and he never did a Gilligans Island.� said TC to himself as he was shaking his head.

“Holly lawn mower Batman! That creep Tigercat barrowed our new neighbors lawn mower.� said the boy wonder.
“Yes Robin,� said Batman as he peered from behind the Bat-Bush. “That’s the last time that guy will ever see his lawn mower.�
“Yeah Bruce, that creep still has the Bat-Trimmer and the Bat-leaf-blower.� said Robin.
“Let’s go Robin, to the Bat Cave.’ said Batman.
But as Batman turned he tripped over TC’s extension cord that was running from TC’s garage directly to the circuit box of Stately Wayne Manor.
“Holy extension cord Bruce are you ok?� said Dick as he was helping Batman to his feet.
“Darn that punk Tigercat, he’ll pay for this Robin.� said Batman as he was limping to the entrance of the Batcave.

“Ok guys.� said TC to Wally and Beaver. “Make sure you don’t forget to dump the lawn clippings in Ozzie Nelson’s backyard.�
“Are you gonna pay us this time Mr� asked the Beaver
“Yeah, Lumpy and Eddie Haskell told us that you were a low down, rotten, good for nothing, loser punk, slime ball. And, yeah we want to be paid this time.� said Wally Cleaver.
“Pallys, I invested your money wisely into one of my rookie kilters at my emporium. That way your hard earned money is growing in value.� said the crafty TC.
“No foolin Mr?� asked the excited Beaver.
“No foolin Beav.� said the convincing TC. “Now you pallys get to work and I’ll invest your money for ya right now.� Hehehehe.

1 week later…..

Ding-Dong…
TC could hear Clint’s footsteps approaching the front door. As the door opens TC says.
“Yo! Hi ya Clint, Mind if I barrow your weedwacker?� asked TC
“Hey hold your horses and wait a minute there partner, you haven’t returned my lawn mower yet.� said Clint as he was looking directly into TC’s blood shot eyes.
“Well..err..pally, when im done with the weedwacker I’ll bring both back at the same time. So, what ya say pal?� asked TC
“Not so fast there cowboy, I want some thing for collateral, just in case.� said Clint in his typical Eastwood fashion.
“Collateral?Gee, pal don’t ya trust me?...sheesh..ok,ok.ummm….I’ll let ya hold on to my Bat.err.my trimmer and my leafblower for collateral. What ya say to that pal?� said TC
“OK, it’s a deal partner.� said Dirty Harry.

“Holly Trimmer and leafblower Bruce!� said the Boy wonder. “That creep TC is taking our Bat-Trimmer and the Bat-Leafblower over to the new neighbor’s house.�
“It appears so Robin.� said the caped crusader as he hobbled over to take a look from behind the Bat-Trash Cans.
“Holly Aqua Velva bottles Batman!� “Look!.. Our trash cans are filled with empty diet coke cans and Aqua Velva bottles.� said Dick Grayson. Bruce Wayne’s youthful ward.
“I told that punk TC to cease and desist dumping his trash in the Bat-trash cans. Wait until I get my Bat-gloves around Tigercats scrawny neck…ummm…I’m sorry Dick, but super-hero crime fighters are above such petty anger.� said Bruce Wayne millionaire playboy. “To the Bat-polls Robin!�
But as batman turned to head towards the Bat-polls he tripped over a hose that was running from a water spicket from stately Wayne Manor to TC’s above the ground wadding pool.
“Holy water stealing Batman! That freak is stealing our water too!� said Robin as he was helping Bruce Wayne back to his feet.
Yes Dick, there isn’t a form of scum crawling on the face of this planet lower than Tigercat.� said Batman
“Lower than Weird Al Yankovic?� asked Robin
“Yes Dick, even lower than Weird Al Yankovic. But maybe one rung above a bakery supply salesman.� said Bruce as he was dis-connecting TC’s hose from the water spicket.


A few days later…



Ding-Dong….

“Hmmm….Clint doesn’t appear to be home. I’ll check his door….it’s unlocked. I’m sure Clint won’t mind if I come in and barrow his TV set for a few days.� said TC to himself.
But as TC walks past Clint’s study he sees Clint at his computer. “What’s this?� thought TC. As he overhears Clint saying.
“Shawdow_Weedwakr, good game, looks like I got the best of ya this time partner.� said Clint through RW.
“Yeah, Dirty_Harry, I’ll kick your butt next time.� said Shadow_Weedwakr.
“Dirty_Harry, you from La Habra by any chance?� asked Van_Mustang.
“Nada on La Habra there partner. Just moved down from Carmel.� said Inspector Callahan. “Hey, I’ll catch you guys next time; I have a new movie script I need to go over.�

Just then TC says “..errr…umm…Clint! Thought ya wouldn’t mind pal, just came by to see if I could barrow your TV set for a few days.�
The startled Clint Eastwood turned and looked at TC, and said. “Who let you in here partner? And you want to barrow my TV? You still haven’t returned my lawn mower and my weedwacker.�

“..err…ummm…yeah..Clint! I see you fly CFS. I fly a little CFS, but im just a rookie myself. No where as good as you Clint.� said TC trying to butter up the obviously ticked off Dirty Harry.

“So, you fly CFS? A rookie you say partner..ahhh… yeah partner go ahead and barrow my TV. But first we make a deal.� said Clint Eastwood in his soft but firm voice.

“What do ya mean by a deal pal? asked TC

“This is the deal partner; we fly a match in CFS. If you win, you can come over here anytime you want and barrow anything you want. But if I win, you never, ever come over here and bother me again. Deal partner?� said Dirty Harry through clinched teeth.

“Gee pal, I don’t know, me being just a rookie and all. Tell ya what pal, throw in your Ferrari and it’s a deal.� said TC.

“What! My Ferrari!..ahh…errr…ok,ok partner it’s a deal. I’ll set up a room on the Zone in Furball and I’ll call it “Make my Day� So, get your mangy hide out of here and I’ll meet ya in Hell.� Hehehe. smirked Dirty Harry. “I’ll finally be rid of that moocher for ever.�


TC ran across the street and jumped into his Rainbow-Mother-of-Pearl 63’ Chevy Impala convertible and roared off to his Kilter Builter Emporium.

Once TC left, Clint ran out to his back yard and into a hanger in the corner of his palatial estate. He pushed the hanger doors open and tugged out his pristine North American P-51D “Stock� Mustang. After quickly checking that his six .50s were primed and ready, Clint jumped into the cockpit and fired up the 12-cylinder beauty. Moments later he was roaring on his way where he would meet TC in the air.

TC pulled his Impala to a screeching halt outside of his Kilter Builter Emporium and jumped out and sprinted into his emporium. TC climbed up into the cockpit of his finest Genuine Rookie Kilter. TC cracked open a fresh can of diet coke guzzled it down, then splashed on ¾’s of a bottle of Aqua Velva and was soon winging his way over the desert where Clint was waiting for him.

TC first spotted the bright glittering speck that was Clint’s chrome aluminum P-51D in the red sunlight and pulled his Kilter into a head on pass. Clint did the same. TC pushed the throttle lever up from 45% to 80% to wide open, and inside the cockpit of the P-51, Dirty Harry opened up the supercharger and the Merlin roared.

“I’ll teach that outlaw TC what a real P-51 can do.� muttered Clint as he kept a close eye on TC’s kilter that was rapidly approaching in his reflecting gun site. Closer and closer the two combatants streaked, and Clint carefully set his finger on the trigger on his control stick.
“Make my Day punk!� said Clint as he squeezed the trigger and the six fifties in his
P-51’s wings spewed forth both flame and lead. He saw the flickers on TC’s wings too, and the next thing Clint knew his P-51 was spitting hydraulic fluid all over his canopy and his wing tanks were spewing fuel at an alarming rate. Clint’s wings were perforated with bullet holes. Banking hard to the right, Clint cursed as he saw TC’s kilter veer away for another pass.

But Clint was no rookie in a Hawker. His tough P-51 could take hits and come back for more. He notched the throttle up to war emergency power and lowered his flaps for a tight bank. Although his engine was sputtering and fuel was spraying from the bullet holes in his wings, Clint’s turn took TC totally by surprise. A moment later TC’s Genuine Rookie Kilter was liberally pelted by .50 caliber slugs from Clint’s still potent guns.

“Dagnabbit! That Eastwood punk!� shouted TC as he tried to ignore the ominous engine oil gauge that showed he was losing oil and losing it fast. “Those darn fifties do a lot more damage than those punk rookie hawkers!� As his useless 4,500-hp Rookie Kilting engine slowly wailed and the 5-blade-contra-rotating –prop stopped, TC glided his damaged craft down towards the desert floor. TC spotted a small town and expertly managed to make a 3-point dead stick landing in the middle of the only street in the center of town.
“Sheesh!, what a town.� Said TC as he cracked open his cockpit and opened his engine cowling. As bad luck would have it a single .50 caliber hole had gone through the bottom of the oil reservoir.
“I’ll ask these fine townsfolk if the have any oil I can barrow.� And TC dashed off towards a building named “Tombstone Saloon.�

Clint smirked as he watched TC land, but he was in a very similar situation. His fuel gauge read “Empty� and the misty stream was still spraying from the holes in his wings. Carefully Clint landed his shot up P-51 near where TC landed his. But not before scaring several horses and clipping several of the parked covered wagons that stood in the way.

“I’m gonna finish this with that outlaw TC once and for all.� murmured Rowdy Yates as he rummaged under his P-51 cockpit seat. He pulled out a leather gun belt and holster complete with a .45 Peacemaker and strapped the gun belt to his waist. “I thought this might just come in handy.� Said Clint and he finished buckling his gun belt. Then Clint strode out on to the dusty street of the old ghost town.

TC ran into the saloon and rushed up to the bartender at the counter.

“Hey old-timer pally.� said the impatient TC. “Do you now where I can get some oil?�

“I’m afraid not traveler.� Replied the bartender. “But how about some whisky? Best I can do for ya.�

“Whisky?.. got any diet Coke?� asked TC

“We ain’t got none of that stranger. How about some sarsaparilla?� asked the barkeep.

:Forget it pal.� said TC turning away.

“You might try the train station.� suggested the mixologist. “They might use oil for their new fangled steam locomotive.�

Just then TC spotted a familiar wiry frame of a man through the saloon window. It was Clint Eastwood!

“Hey you in there, you yellow-bellied, nose picking, low-down good for nothing diet Coke drinking buffalo poaching varmint!� roared Clint from the dusty street.
“Tigercat, I’m callin you out!�

The barkeep gulped hard and quickly ducked behind the counter. As the big clock across the street at the town hall struck 5 o’clock in the evening. The red desert sun sent a firey gleam of light through the window and TC could see Clint standing in the middle of the street. His hat pulled low down over his eyes and his boot spurs glistened in the late afternoon sun.
“Hey Tigercat, you flea bitten coward. I said I’m callin you out.� Shouted Clint again. “Better come out here before I go in there and get ya, and if I do, I’m bringing Hell with me.�

TC reached for the security of his Summer Fun Squirt Blaster, the most powerful squirt gun in the world. TC brushed off the dust from his imitation black polyester leisure suit and splashed on ¾ ‘s of a bottle of Aqua Velva and with a heavy gait stomped through the swinging doors of the saloon and his Italian rookie kilting bowling shoes bit into the dust of the street. A thin wind rustled down the empty street and a lone tumbleweed bounded alone behind Clint’s still smoking P-51. Clint’s teeth clenched in a scowl as he tossed his smoldering cigarette into the street and pulled his hat even lower on his face.

“You gonna draw, or are just gonna whistle Dixie partner?� scowled Clint, all the while his trigger finger twitching and his eyes glaring at the silhouette of TC who now faced him in the street about 60 feet away.

“Yo, pal make my day.� Snarled TC, his hand poised over his water pistol.
“Clint,.. I..ahh.. guess this means I can’t barrow you DVD player?�

“Enough talk partner.� said Clint stepping forward, his spurs clanking with each step in the dusty street as the breeze sent the tails of his coat fluttering. His hand inched down towards the ivory handle of his .45. And all the while TC’s stubby fingers crept closer towards the handle of his Summer Fun Squirt Blaster.

Suddenly Clint’s hand dove for his gun, his fingers clenched the grip and his iron cleared leather in a lightning flash. Quick as a streak his hand cocked back the hammer and before TC could even raise his squirt blaster Clint’s Peacemaker was leveled at TC’s head. With a well trained squeeze, Clint pulled the trigger and the pistol hammer fell with a sudden metallic snap. “CLICK�
Nothing happened! For a moment Clint still kept his smirk, expecting to see TC spin around and fall to the ground in a festering heap at any moment. But the pistol had not fired. Frantically, Clint pulled the trigger again, to no avail, and again, and again. Each time only to hear the empty. “CLICK�

“Oh..ahhh..Sorry, Eastwood pal.� said TC after a few seconds. “I forgot to tell ya, I barrowed your bullets. I hope ya don’t mind Clint pally.�
And with that TC squeezed the trigger of his Summer Fun Squirt Blaster and the helpless Clint was blown off his feet by the massive spray of water. While Clint struggled to get up dripping wet from head to toe, TC stood over Clint and said.

“Oh, by the Rowdy pally…. ‘Play Misty for me’…..hehehehehehe.



TC-

dont miss them do something about them babes, lifes to short *big hugz*

dont think TC kilted me but then again that was years ago. cant remember much from back then... other than i know i miss all the good times we all had. isnt that right shades?

TC never kilted me, but had me rolling in his games.

Yo!

Sweets, nice pic.....

Im happy you enjoy my moderately funny humor.



TC-





Hi TC yes I enjoy it very much and thank you kind sir

everyone was a rookie once in their life... even the great rookie kilter TC sry to burst your kilting bubble TC

Ah, the smell of a freshly kilt rookie in the mornin - ain't nothing better.

But, comeon TC, weren't you a rook once in your life? LOL

TC if yer humor got any funnier someone would bust a bladder laughin

Yo!

Sweets, nice pic.....

Im happy you enjoy my moderately funny humor.



TC-

Hi Marc yes gr8 stuff I enjoy reading it

funny stuff mmm i smell the fresh ink on that story still

TC's 14

Since the beginning of time…

Since this column has been Civilized and Refined, I shall no longer write these stupid and unnecessary works but rather offer today an in-depth discussion on the "Historical Advancement and Gradual Learning of the Species of Rookies." I know that a lecture of this type is not very entertaining, but next week I hope to offer for you "The Integral Feeding Habits of the Short-Lived Dodo." Anyways, let us begin…

From the Dawn of Time the noble Cave_Rookie has looked into the sky and saw flying creatures like the pterodactyl soaring ever so gracefully. The ever-imaginative Cave_Rookie thought to himself "Hmmm .... all I have to do is flap my arms really fast and I can soar with the pterodactyl!"
Then Cave_Rookie would climb on to the top of his cave, all the while Mrs. Cave_Rookie heckling to him that Rookies will never fly.
"Look, you stupid Cave_Rookie!" Mrs. Cave_Rookie would heckle. "Rookies will never fly!"
But Cave_Rookie had never listened to Mrs. Cave_Rookie before, so why start now? He climbed up to the top of his cave, ignoring the heckling, flapped his arms, and leaped.... and he flew all right ... he flew just like a brick and crashed in a festering heap on the jagged rocks below.

Thus Cave_Rookie became the first Kilt Rookie.

Thousands of years later we visit the humble marble palace of Egyptian_Rookie. He too has often pondered the magnificence of flight. He would spend hours watching the graceful Nile Swans soar high above the Pyramids. Egyptian_Rookie was much more advanced than the Cave_Rookie was. Egyptian_Rookie thought to himself "Hmmm.... if I could make wings out of the feathers of the graceful Nile Swan, tie them to my arms, and leap from the top of the Pyramid, I could soar like the great Nile Swans in the air!"
So Egyptian_Rookie worked for months piecing together his wings, all the while Mrs. Egyptian_Rookie heckling hi
"Look, you stupid Egyptian_Rookie!" Mrs. Egyptian_Rookie would heckle. "Rookies will never fly! And go gather your own Nile Swan feathers!"
But Egyptian_Rookie had never listened to Mrs. Egyptian_Rookie before, so why start now? After completing his 'Stock' Nile Swan wings, he made way for the nearest, tallest Pyramid and began to climb it, all the while Mrs. Egyptian_Rookie heckling him.
"Hey, you stupid Egyptian_Rookie!" she would heckle. "Carry your own bleeping-bleep-bleep' Stock' Nile Swan wings!"
But Egyptian_Rookie paid her no heed so why start now? When they reached the top he tied on his graceful 'Stock' Nile Swan wings to his arms and leapt from the Pyramid. He plummeted and crashed into a festering heap on the scorching desert sand below. Egyptian_Rookie became the second Kilt Rookie.

Hundreds of years later, we find Roman_Rookie, who was a step above Cave_Rookie and Egyptian_Rookie. Now Roman_Rookie had studied under Socrates, who said "Cheat not or be placed on the Pantheon of Shame" and also studied under Plato, who said "If one uses auto-follow, and another uses a mod, which one is at an advantage?" as well as studying under Aristotle who had said "Heck, be the host and boot the doofuses."
Roman_Rookie would often look into the skies above the Seven Hills of Rome and observe the Larks pleasantly lofting in the breeze. Then he would think to himself.... Hmm.... if I took my linen robes and cut up the cloth and took wooden sticks and had Mrs. Roman_Rookie sew the cloth over the sticks to make wings, and if I got a good running start, I too could pleasantly loft in the breeze over the Coliseum!"

So Roman_Rookie studied the anatomy of the Lark, the bone structure of the wings, and then made a detailed 'Stock' drawing for Mrs. Roman_Rookie to use in her sewing. Mrs. Roman_Rookie often would heckle her husband.
"Look, Caesar!" she would heckle. "I have swollen feet and 'buzzing' hands from sewing your 'Stock' Lark Wings! Rookies will never fly!"
But Roman_Rookie had never listened to his wife before, so why should he start now? He made Mrs. Roman_Rookie carry his 'Stock' Lark Wings up to the top of the Coliseum and there he prepared for flight. Quite a crowd had turned out that day and after the usual gladiators had ceased to chop each other to bits they looked on as Roman_Rookie donned his 'Stock' Lark Wings. Even Emperor Nero fiddling with his fiddle had turned out to watch the grand event. All the while Mrs. Roman_Rookie was heckling "Rookies will never fly!"

Roman_Rookie flapped his 'Stock' Lark Wings, and got a good running start. Suddenly the wind caught the frame of his primitive aerofoil, and thus he was lifted from his leaping-off point, but instead of going up Roman_Rookie went down fluttering and flailing into the Lion Pit...and well... we know what happened ... Roman_Rookie became the third Kilt Rookie.

Many centuries later, Leonardo_da_Rookie sat in his laboratory after inventing pizza, automatic bookshelves, and the non-burning toaster. After fiddling briefly with integral calculus, Leonardo_da_Rookie observed a hummingbird outside the window. How fast those hummingbirds’ wings flapped ... and POOF, Leonardo_da_Rookie got an inspired idea..."Hmm... If I used steam power, I to could go flying through the air just like the hummingbird".

With much heckling from Mrs. Leonardo_da_Rookie, our hero assembled a 'Stock' Steam Engine Flying Aerofoil that would propel the Rookie sitting in it to great heights and fame.
"Leonardo_da_Rookie what’s a matta you" heckled his wife. "I've spenda three weeks a-gluing your 'Stock' Steam Engine Flying Aerofoila together and you do-a nothing buta playa witha thosea sillya hummingbirds. Rookies will never fly" heckled our hero’s wife.
But, Leonardo_da_Rookie had never paid any attention to his wife before, so why start now? So Leonardo_da_Rookie and his heckling wife carrying his 'stock' Steam Engine Flying Aerofoil climbed to the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He fired up his 'Stock' Steam Engine Flying Aerofoil.
With many crowds gathering to observe him he boarded his able craft at the pinnacle of the Tower and had his wife hold it steady. His flapping, spinning contraption burst into motion but unfortunately the steam boiler exploded and his contraption of iron, wood, and wire plummeted to the bottom of the tower in a festering heap. Leonardo_da_Rookie became the fourth Kilt Rookie.

At last it was up to Orville and Wilbur Rookie, whose wives heckled them just as much as all the other poor sap rookies. Orville and Wilbur Rookie often observed the gliders and kites from their bicycle shop. They began to think.... "Hmmm ... if we took one of those gliders and mounted an engine on it and ran it from a rail, we might be able to fly like the gliders and kites!"
"Look, dears," they would explain softly to their wives. "We need money to make this almost doomed-to-failure 'Stock' Rookie Flyer so that we can become filthy rich and famous if it works."

But their wives only heckled them. "Don't sell the bike shop, you fools!" heckled their wives. "Besides, if God had intended us to fly, he would have given us wings!"

Orville and Wilbur Rookie had never listened to their wives before, so why should they start now? They carefully observe kites and gliders, while overseeing their wives in the construction of their 'Stock' Rookie Flyer. At last it is finished. Once their wives had completed the take-off ramp, the brothers boarded their craft.

"Look, you two idiots," their wives would heckle. "We have slaved for weeks building your stupid 'Stock' Rookie Flyer and we have swollen knees, bad backs, 'buzzing' hands, and can't find our shoes! Your flying machine will never work and we're out of money and now, there is a second bike shop in town called TC's Madman Bike Emporium."

Not to be discouraged, Orville and Wilbur Rookie fired up their 'Stock' Rookie Flyer, ran the engine up high, and sped down the ramp. Then up they flew, they had done it, and they were flying! After thousands of years and many kilt rookie attempts, the Rookies had finally achieved the very feat their wives had said was impossible! Flight! Up Orville and Wilbur Rookie soared, much to the dismay of their wives.

But then a strange noise was heard, and suddenly another Flying Machine swooped down upon them, a machine gun blazing!
"Muahahaha!" screamed the pilot of this strange new Flying Machine, which definitely was not Stock! "All flying Rookies need to be Kilt! I am Great-Grandpa TC, and I am the first Rookie Kilter!"

With one long, final burst from the machine gun the Great Grandpa TC blew the Stock Flying Machine into bits and it crashed into a festering heap. The Rookie Kilter Flying Machine then soared off, trailing a cloud of noxious green fumes.
So the dawn of flight for rookies has begun and so has the rein of terror from a madman from the sky...TC...hehe.

-TC

Yes, PG Squad Members are located all over the world and are ruthless killers.

I'm proud to say I'm one of the worst of a bad lot.

Good to see ya Rap. Hope all is well with you and that your aviation studies are progressing as they should.

Cheers to all.

Lee

Uh oh... The PG crowd is bouncing back again... Don't let Max or Vlad in here!

Xcaliber aka PG_Raptor

TC:

Just found this forum based on a note from Kitfox on our old PGHQ message board where he mentions that Com Central are hosting CFS1 games somehow.

Tell me, do you still have a taste for Aqua Velva?

Looking forward to being here.

Regards,
Lee
PS ... Tell BC I say hello and wish the little rascal well.