Brian Coltrane

"Gah. Daney, that IS the joke....it's whatcha call a one-liner. Here, let's see if ya get the next one." *takes two peanuts from basket, and stands them up on the bar* "Two peanuts were walkin' down the street...one was a salted." *pauses* "KHEE! Like 'assaulted', but they're peanuts, ya get it? Heh...." *seeing that his punch lines weren't getting any better, Brian tossed the two peanuts into Daney's beer* "Hell, I dunno, maybe they drowned instead." (character note: will be outta town till Monday night - MaryAnne can answer for me, or y'all can hold that thought, whichevah!)

The sight of the Mac and Gillian grabbing Daney and moving her to the cliff had froze everything in Brian's heart, silencing the beat for a long moment when it looked like the assassin team would be taking Daney with them on their final, desperate move. The fact they had spared her, shocked him. Perhaps there had been an understanding between captor and captive after all...but it was no more. Mac and Gillian wouldn't have the opportunity that Brian himself had, for a different life. They had come to the kind of end that all criminals expected for themselves; a choice between prison and death. Brian understood Mac's choice...and somewhere inside, he regretted it, despite everything. These thoughts were interrupted by the note Mac had dropped before his death; the clue to the employer behind it all. The note contained one name, and it damned the person it accused. Worse, it was halfway believable. With a hard sigh, Brian looked at Val. The Game Warden would never have wanted anyone's blood, he knew, but Brian had a knack for getting on people's nerves, hers included. And if Val had thought she was doing the right thing to protect Daney, or the Dukes, or to keep Hazzard County beautiful.... Brian turned away and walked a few steps alone, knowing MaryAnne's day wasn't getting any easier. (character's note: I'll be elsewhere until Monday night - MaryAnne has authority to speak for me till I'm back. See ya then!)

Brian turned and looked at Daney. "The beer can be improved, but the clientel can't. KHEE!" With a grin, he dunked a peanut into Daney's beer. Her slightly pensive mood, however, didn't go unnoticed. Dukes tended to come and go abruptly in Hazzard - and Brian couldn't blame them, given their usual gift for running into the wrong people - like himself - but there was something odd in her behavior. Then again, she was a Duke...but still. Brian tried a joke to cheer her up. "Hey, Daney. This horse walks into a bar, and the bartender says, 'Why the long face'?'

*Considers the peanut adrift in beer mug* Hmmm. *raises mug, drinks beer, along with peanut* *sets down glass, and with exaggerated drawl, says....* Why, cousin...ah do bah-lieve you've improved the beer in this place. Khee!

At MaryAnne's words, Brian slowly walked near the edge of the cliff, studying the flaming wreckage. The whoosh of the crackling flames and the hiss and pop of the burning patrol car was the only sound for several moments. The acrid smoke billowed to the sky, marking the end of the pursuit with grim finality. The identity of whomever hired Mac and Gillian to begin with, would never be known. Brian stared at the scene for a long time, his dark eyes brooding. He wasn't proud of the idea that he and his clan had chased two people to their deaths, but as MaryAnne said, this was the path the pursued had chosen. An uneasy feeling was prickling at the back of Brian's neck. Were the secrets Mac gaurded worth certain death, when there was always that slim chance of escape? Why did it end this way? Why hadn't Mac turned the patrol car around and come back at them head-on, or any other dozen strategies that could have won their escape? Mac was armed, he could have also slowed down and let MaryAnne get close enough, and then turned and fired a decisive bullet.... Backing away from the cliff, Brian turned around and scanned the area, not sure what his criminal instincts were telling him. He could be wrong... ....but just in case, he felt it was best not to linger at the scene. Brian took a last look at the wreckage and the plume of smoke, which rose black and heavy to blot the sun. "Farewell, Mac," he said quietly, knowing it wouldn't be heard. Brian turned towards MaryAnne, his voice speaking low. "Cousin, let's get outta here..."

MaryAnne's fine-tuned rant made Brian smile. He couldn't remember the last time she had worked up such a righteous wrath against somebody, and he was glad not to be the one getting chased right now. He watched the road shrink between Maverick and the fleeing stolen patrol car. Boss Hogg used cheap parts and skimped on maintenance on those squads, while MaryAnne kept Maverick in top running shape. The odds, Brian knew, were with the posse. Mac and Gillian were outnumbered, and possibly in an unreliable patrol car, and were trying to escape from MaryAnne, Rosco, Duke's, who were all in their own home territory. There was a fleeting sympathy Brian felt for the pursued; he knew what it felt like. But it didn't stop him from wanting to see Mac face-down in the dirt. Or strung up from a tree. Or eaten alive by ravenous coyotes. Or hit broadside with a truck. Or thrown into a snake pit. Or drawn and quartered using four very slow tractors. "Khee, you @#$%&*," Brian muttered at the fleeing car. Be it called backwoods southern justice or revenge, hell's invoice was going to be paid.

*grins openly* "Addendum for Murder?" KHEE! Sounds like a good story title! I'm surprised we ain't used it already. *chuckles, swigs beer* It don't phase me much to play for high stakes, onconna it goes with the territory when one's from the wrong side of the tracks. It's only natural that good guys wanna stop me from breakin the law, and other bad guys wanna see if they can knock me off the map. Sometimes things get rough, but I expect that. *gives a shrug* Besides, I can hold my own against 'em all. *takes a peanut, sits it on bar, and playfully flicks it at MaryAnne* I know whatcha mean, tho', about playin' for somethin' other than blood. I mean, lookit us. *flicks another peanut, and this one ricochets off of MaryAnne's badge* We've had absolute riots without shootin' at each other. And knowin' that the other will be around tomorrow, for another adventure, takes some of the pressure off, and makes for a lot of fun. And it' s just as much of a challenge, to figure out how to annoy an opponent wthout just blowin' their head off. *pauses, realizing something* I think it comes down to the difference of havin' an edgy friendship, a rivalry, or....an enemy. Maybe it's more about the people than the plot, MaryAnne. Hell, you and I started out as natural enemies, let's admit it. *raises beer to toast MaryAnne at the memories* But things changed between us, and I fer one, am grateful. *takes a drink* We been around a long time...we fought like hell with each other and got a lot of it out of our system. We've faced the choice of whether to destory or spare each other many times, and we'll probably face it again someday. But there's an honest kinship that we both earned in the process. *smiles, then expression turns serious* Some other folk in Hazzard gotta sort things with each other, yet...maybe some of 'em gotta figure out where they match up, n' prove themselves. Includin' against us. Whether they figure on doin' it with bullets or babble is somethin' we can't control, cousin. We just have to be ready for whatever may happen. I shouldn't drink. It makes me too damn philisophical. *suddenly flicks a peanut directly into MaryAnne's root beer, which lands with a tiny plunk*

*tosses a peanut at Riddick's departure* Yeah, you don't wanna be late for your piano lessons.... *sighs, turns back to bar, and looks at MaryAnne* Ya know, cousin....I remember when bad guys were BAD guys. But nowadays, people think all ya need is a lousy haircut and poor table manners. I tell ya, it's waterin' down the breed. *takes a glug from beer* I suppose it could be worse, though. Remember when everybody wanted to come to Hazzard County and be a cop?? What the hell were they thinking? *munches peanuts, shoves basket over towards MaryAnne* Khee, that reminds me of the time I put up that "Deputies Wanted" sign a couple of years ago...man alive, did you get the applicants, too! Makes me wonder.... What do ya think would happen if I put up a new sign, that said, "Bad Guys Wanted?" You think I could get any takers, put together a gang again, and become Lord Of The Outlaws? *casually sips beer, holding back a grin*

*eyes Riddick suspiciously* Ya know what, man....that sounded like half of a threat. Now just 'cause I'm involved in another storyline over yonder, don't mean I can't keep an eye on ya right here. *reaches for basket of peanuts on bar, munches on a few, cracking the shells open with hands* Ya see, Riddick...I'm used to characters like you breezin' in and thinkin' they're gonna kick somebody's posterior. Everybody always thinks it's easy to be a bad guy...*pauses for swallow of beer* Well, maybe I make it LOOK easy...but it ain't! So take my advice. Settle down, get yerself an honest job, pay your taxes, and be a responsible citizen. You'd amaze yerself with how decent you could really be.

As Mac and Gillian were fleeing the scene, Brian was running towards Maverick. He hollered at Daney while in full run, unable to believe that she had released the very people who had damn near made an end of them. "Duke girl, you're gonna have a lot of explainin' to do!" He yelled. "Don't just stand there with yer private eyeballs staring at everybody, let Val and them cops loose!" He wasn't able to wait to see what Daney did. MaryAnne was at Maverick's driver's side, and Brian quickly dove into the back seat of the Firebird, where Bandit immediately barked at him. But it was the "Howdy" from the older man in the black Stetson who shared the backseat, that startled him completely. The man looked a helluva lot like Rosco, but.... "GAH!" Brian said. "Naw, it can't be....what the hell, they let anybody in Hazzard these days?! First MacGyver, n' now...hey, you're that dude from the Hooper movie! Cully! Sonofagun!" As Brian was speaking, Rosco jumped into the front passenger seat of Maverick, and MaryAnne got behind the wheel. The Firebird gave a howling roar, the pursuit on. Enjoying the novelty of being on the same side as the posse for a change, Brian kept up the chatter. "Ya know, most families don't go out and do things like this together anymore. Ain't that a shame? Hell, it'll be a sad day when nobody's got time for a shootout...."

Brian's answer was to give MaryAnne a hug, reassuring her. He knew the thoughts that were running through her head; he could see it in her expression. "I'm awright, cousin," he said quietly, though his shoulders shuddered at the recent memories. They remained silent for a moment, kin reunited. Coltrane luck had held...barely...and Brian murmured this as he released her. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her a few steps away, to talk in private. "I'll explain the uniform later," he said to her. "Right now, the biggest thing you gotta know is that there's a pair of assassins makin' a break for it through those woods. I don't know who hired 'em or why....but you've figured out the target." A brief grin of bravado lit Brian's face. "Anyhow, I figure they've quit the assignment. We could still catch 'em, but we'll risk a few of our own folk in doin' it." Brian looked into MaryAnne's eyes and saw the twin flames of blue fire within them. The burn for justice was bright in them...and perhaps for something more... ...and though the law wouldn't officially call it revenge, Brian would recognize it just the same. He knew MaryAnne saw the blood drying on his skin, knew she had felt the echo of fear in him...and knew, on some level, she had heard the gunshot and thought the worst. "It's your call, cousin," he told her. He would stand by her decision. For MaryAnne was the law, and she was not to be crossed lightly... But more, she was kin, and he was damn glad of it.

Brian walked out from the cabin with Daney beside him. He didn't speak as his dark eyes looked to the woods, the freshly-matted grass showing the evasive path that Mac and Gillian had taken. In the distance, the roar of Maverick's engine could be heard. The Firebird would be here in mere moments; and from the speed it was approaching, it sounded as if the camshaft was going to drill it's way through the motor block. MaryAnne wasn't sparing the horses in getting here. Though it would have been a few minutes too late to save him. Brian focused on the woods again, and reached up a hand to touch the side of his neck where Mac's bullet had grazed him. The blood was drying, but the surface wound stung like hell. However, it beat the alternative. What had passed between captor and captive at that last second was something Brian could not explain. Mac had yanked his hair back and stuck a gun in his mouth, and in that single heartbeat there was no time for prayer...Brian remembered opening his eyes and looking into the face of his killer...their eyes locked, holding the exchange of life and death.... And then Mac had suddenly yanked the gun from Brian's mouth and turned it aside, the trigger pulled nearly the same moment. The shot was deafining...and the rest, Brian couldn't recall. Shock had numbed him, whether from the suprise at being alive, or from the singe of the bullet over his skin, he didn't know which. It wasn't until he heard Daney's voice that he felt focus returning to him, and with it, hope. And now, standing outside and feeling the blood pounding through his heart, and hearing Maverick's steady roar coming nearer, Brian was tempted to hunt Mac down. If MaryAnne brought Bandit with her, they could do it quickly. The dog could sniff Mac and Gillian out; A Hazzard posse could surround those woods; the Dukes, after all, had hunted everything in this county...justice could yet be served. The name of Mac's employer could yet be drawn from him...via official cop inquiry or Brian's own methods, it didn't matter... But the decision of pursuit would be the law's, not his. The kidnapping of a bad guy impersonating an officer was probably still a crime, but the paperwork would be hell. The thought put a wry smile on Brian's face. He put an arm around Daney's waist, giving her sideways hug. Yeah, he was alive, dammit, and it felt good to be breathing. He turned his gaze towards the road and waited for MaryAnne. The day was far from over...

*comes up to the bar and sits on the other side of Riddick* "Howdy there, Riddick. Didn't expect to see ya again. I thought you had the good luck to get out fo Hazzard. Khee! "

Brian took in a few shallow breaths before answering. "Listen, Mac. I know what you're thinkin'. You're figurin' you should shoot me and then go get Gillian outta Daney's hands. You're just waitin' until Daney's farther away, and maybe she won't hear it. 'Specially if you put a pillow over my face and muffle the shot." Taking a dry swallow, Brian continued. "Maybe Gillian could get the upper hand on Daney. Maybe not. Thing is, you kill me here, and you lose a chess piece, Mac. And if I heard ya right....you mentioned havin' a boss of some kind. This is a payin' job for you, ain't it?" Brian gathered his resolve, and his dark eyes looked back at his captor with a bitter understanding. "You're just wonderin' if it's worth keepin' the job right now. And if my beggin' for mercy makes any damn difference....then let me swallow my pride and say one thing....." "@#$%&*$#%@#*!!!$&*#$@#*!!!" A grim smile appeared on Brian's face after the outburst. The dice were about to be cast. The lingering regret was if the roll came up snake eyes...he was about to die in a police uniform, ironic indignity that it was.

"DANEY! Don't listen to him! Get outta here while you've got the chance!!"

While MaryAnne and Rosco digested the news of their cousin's capture, Brian's own thoughts were settling in his gut like stale bread, weighing down his spirit. **I'm chained down to a bed, I'm in a cop uniform, I got no weapons, my car is parked out on the town square with my regular clothes in it...Lord knows what anybody will think upon findin' THAT. I'm bein' held by MacGyver and his homicidal girlfriend, and now Daney's been dragged into this...** Brian sighed and shut his eyes a moment, not knowing what could come next and afraid to speculate on it. One minute, he had been out to raise a little hell, and the next thing he knew, he was having hell raised upon him. Was it the uniform? **Did I invoke some kinda curse on myself wearin' this thing?? Gah!** Whatever came next, there was nothing much he could do, other than to stare hatefully at Mac, and chance the occassional wink at Gillian whenever he caught the woman's eye. These amusements were unfullfilling, however, in light of the fact that his taunts to MacGyver had somehow resulted in this unfortunate fate. **At least the sonofa# didn't mummify me in duct tape...** Finally, Brian turned his head and looked at Daney. He didn't know how she got caught up in this, but he couldn't stand the idea of her getting hurt. He also feared for Rosco and MaryAnne...and come what may for himself, if the people he cared about remained safe, he'd call it an even trade. His dark eyes met Daney's, and he blinked once, slowly, communicating without words.

Brian's reactions to Mac's comments were muffled by the gag, but the sentiment came through nonetheless.... "@#$%&*!!#@%$&%*!!!"

Freed of the gag, Brian took the opportunity to ask his captor a burning question. "Awright, so what the hell constitutes "Standard Operatin' Prodcedure" when you got reinforcements that look like THAT?"

Groggily, Brian blinked his eyes and oriented himself to the dingy surroundings. A few problems registered to his mind immediately: First and foremost, he was still dressed a cop and had been captured by his enemy. Secondly, a gag prevented him from swearing about it. Worst of all, he was laying on his back, hands cuffed behind him - and when he tugged, he found that a chain connected the handcuffs to the footrail of the bed. He could not pull himself up to a sitting position. Brian's dark eyes watched Mac near the foot of the bed. His captor was making a phone call...and Brian had the feeling if that call was completed, it was all over. Thinking fast, Brian tested the chain by moving his arms down his back slightly, rather than up...and found that the chain went slack. Awright, it was better than nothing... Before Mac realized what the scheme was, Brian manuvered himself lower on his back, drawing his legs up and bucking his way down the center of the bed, gaining more slack in the chain the closer he got to the footrail. With a desperate, kicking lunge, he hurled himself over the footrail, having enough slack to now stand upright, though he remained effectively chained to the bed. But so what. With a vicious kick of one black boot, Brian sent the cell phone flying from Mac's hand. A second kick to Mac's knee sent the man to the floor... ...though this was temporary and probably futile, and Brian knew it. He lunged forward, pulling hard against the chain, like a draft horse against an impossible weight, hoping for the preverbial weak link to break in the chain...and give him a slight chance at escape.

"MMMRPGH!!@#%&*..." Brian attempted to struggle, but the chemical vapor weaked him, sending him swiftly towards oblivion. The taunting voice in his ear was one he recognized. As conciousness faded, Brian felt a cold, numbing shock at the realization that MacGyver would go this far....

The sound of the explosion made Brian jump. He looked in the direction of the blast and saw a volcano of trash spew into the air, followed by a billow of smoke. "Sonofagun. Looks like MacGyver is puttin' a whole new twist on recyclin'! Maybe he's tryin' to impress Val with his enviro-mental side. Khee!" Shrugging to himself, Brian resumed his walk to across town. He went into the Hazzard Dry Cleaners, phase one of his plan about to take place. He cleared his throat for the clerk's attention. "Scuze me, ma'am. I'm here to pick up the Hazzard County Sheriff's Department uniforms." "Do you have a ticket?" The woman behind the counter asked. "Sure do! Several of 'em. Speedin', illegal parkin'....." "No, I mean for the dry cleaning." Brian rummaged around in his jacket pockets, pretending to look for the dry cleaning ticket. "Uh...hell, I must have lost it! Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane gave me the money, tho'. See?" *flashes a couple of twenty dollar bills* "Ol' Rosco is gonna be mighty sore at me if I don't get those uniforms to him!" "I suppose it's no crime to lose a dry cleaning ticket. Let's keep the Sheriff happy," the woman said. She handed over three uniforms on hangers covered in clear plastic, and accepted the money from Brian. "Thank ya, ma'am!" This much accomplished, Brian hustled from the dry cleaners. He paused to take off his black jacket and hang it over the top of the uniforms. No one would be the wiser; the uniform pants were black, after all, and with his jacket hiding the blue shirts, he appeared to be carrying his own laundry to Diablo's trunk. Reaching the black Chevy, Brian tossed two of the uniforms into the trunk and kept the third one out for immediate use. It appeared to belong to Enos by the looks of the shirt size. "Heh. I'm about to be an instant dipstick." Brian kept his jacket over the uniform and scuttled to an alley to change clothes. The uniform wasn't a perfect fit; it was a little tight but close enough. By leaving the shirt collar open, Brian found the outfit serviceable. It felt odd, though, to see his arms covered in blue material instead of the familiar black sleeves of his jacket. He had just finished tucking in the shirt when a hiss greeted him from the end of the alley. He turned to find one of Hilary's cats eyeing him with an evil stare. It fuzzed up and began to pad towards him. "Gah…nice kitty…go find Val! She's got mice!" The cat ignored Brian's suggestion and broke into a run, zeroing in on the Hazzard police uniform. "Oh no ya don't. You're not getting cat hair all over this uniform - I've only had it on for two minutes! How do you varmints sense clean clothes like this?" Brian scooped up his discarded black clothes and ran to the opposite end of the alley. He didn't see Hilery's other cat until the ornery beast darted out in front of his feet and he tripped over it, performing an unintended flying somersault into a few trash cans, scattering them loudly with his full-body impact. The noise sent the cats skittering away, their mission accomplished. Slowly, Brian got up, kicked the tipped-over garbage cans aside, and took a deep breath. "@#%&! This is gonna be a rough gig. No wonder Rosco n' MaryAnne are constantly goin' through uniforms…" Fortunately, his borrowed uniform wasn't in too bad of shape. Brian brushed the dirt off of it, re-gathered his own clothing, and walked back to Diablo. He put his clothes in the car, and strolled over to the bulletin board. He frowned at MacGyver's note, knowing that sooner or later the town wouldn't be big enough for the both of them. Meanwhile, there was this stranger, offering to help pull off the hell-raising. It could be a trap…but the help was welcome. Brian left a reply: C, I could use fashion accessories, if you dig. I got the main threads but need the jewelry, the belt, and the squawk box. Could obtain on my own but would risk getting skinned alive. You got an easier option? Thanks, man. B. Brian then scanned the notes from Essy, Val, and Hilery. He left a note for the three of them. Hey y'all - If any of you can get your hands on a clunker Plymouth Fury, let me know. A white one would be a plus. Thank ya, Brian Finally, his eyes caught the warning posted by MaryAnne. Grinning, Brian scratched out a few of the words and changed the meaning, effectively making the note read: To the town of Hazzard - Rosco and I remind you that there is disobedience and criminal mischief. -MaryAnne "KHEEHAHA!!" Grinning, Brian left the bulletin board to take another stroll around town. It was time to get a taste of life in uniform.

(After reading the last message from Mac, a reply is left as follows....) Mac, give it up, man. You're not in my league. If you think I'm gonna quiety step aside so you can mosey in and take squatter's rights, yer mistaken. Better ( and worse) people than you have gone up against me and lost. It'll take more than your tricks with duct tape and tinfoil to remove one Brian Coltrane! (the note is riddled with knife holes, which were stabbed liberally throughout for emphasis. ) "There. Dig THAT, Mac." (leaves knife imbedded at top of note.) (Walks back to Diablo, and finds Hilery's note. Removes note from under wiper blade, reads suggestions...one of which are catching on...) "Say now....impersonatin' a cop...." (folds note shut, thinks about it) "Impersonatin' a cop has probably been done in Hazzard before...but hell, it ain't never been done by ME! And I happen to know somethin' about cops. KHEE! I think we may be on to somethin' here! Just imagine the possibilities!" (checks own reflection in Diablo's side mirror - speaks to self in encouragement) "I'd look good in uniform, I think. Yes indeed!" (straightens up, and looks around town) "Now I just gotta get my hands on a uniform. And I know one place I'm NOT gonna get it from. But there's no need to raid Rosco's closet, when folks in this town are so dang trustin'..." (whistling happily, walks down the street, a plan already forming within the mischievous mind.)

(after reading Mac's response on the bulliten board, this reply is left, stuck into the board with a small knife. ka-THUNK!) Mac, maybe YOU are lookin' to be a stunt double on Hee Haw, but I'm not gonna be an extra in Green Acres anytime soon. Ya dig? As far as bein' a bad guy bein' boring....are you NUTS? I get chased by cops, rival criminals, good citizens, Feds, dogs, everything but the National Guard. (And it's early in the game yet.) Hell, I been shot, stabbed, beat up, nearly lynched, and I've been kicked, bit and mauled. Hmm. I'm startin' to wonder WHY I ain't reformed altogher yet. But how could I leave all this behind? KHEE! Now if ya really wanna impress me, you'd come up with some scheme I could pull off. Otherwise I'll be left to my own dee-vices. And the rest of ya'll in Hazzard, don't tell me nobody has any other ideas! Don't tell me y'all are afraid of the law r' somethin'! I don't think MaryAnne even reads this board anymore. So c'mon, show your criminal ingenuity. Brian

(After strolling around the town square and studying the prospects for excitement - and not finding any - the black-clad figure walks back towards the bulliten board. En route, the note is found under Diablo's wiper blade.) Hey, what's this? Looks like I got a re-ply to my post. Khee! Lessee heah. *reads note about tow-truck suggestion* Hmmm, that's somethin' fresh! Grand Theft Tow Truck. Heh heh. I'll keep that one on mind. *puts note inside of jacket pocket* *leaves Diablo to walk up to bulliten board* Ah, hell. Can ya believe that? Some rotten hoodlum stole my notice off the board! *takes another copy of notice from pocket, pins it up* I tell ya. People will take anythin' that ain't nailed down. *looks over the board, finds a response posted* There's only one person I know who would use duct tape to post somethin' on a bulliten board. Must be from ol' MacGyver. *reads post, snorts at the content, and then writes a reply* "To Fleetwood MacGyver: I haven't 'done' the bad guy thing. I AM a bad guy. Try and remember that, you toolshed tinker. What are you doing in Hazzard? Did you get fired from the Foundation for Law and Government? Whups, I forgot. They refused to hire ya! KHEEHAHAHA!!!" Brian Coltrane

( A black-clad figure walks up to the town bulliten board and posts a notification that reads...) If you're the Hazzard County law, don't read this. The rest of y'all, go ahead. Local criminal seeks hell to raise. Looking for new heists that haven't been done. As I understand it, the Hazzard Bank has been robbed at least a dozen times already. The General Lee has been stolen before. Armored cars have been knocked over right and left. It's all been done! Other than making off with the entire contents of the Hazzard County Sheriff's Department booking room, I can't think of a @#%& thing. (Besides, carrying a desk out by yerself tends to slow down an escape.) Listen ya'll, it's so quiet around here, I'm ready to resort to complete and total reform because there's nothin' left to do. GAH!!! If you have ideas, go ahead and leave 'em here for me to ponder. Disclaimer: In case you were the Hazzard County law and read this anyway....this is all purely hypothetical. Ya got nothin' on me. KHEE! Sincerely, Brian Coltrane