Friday Morning Breakfast

“No matter how hard you try, you cannot fix stupid,” I thought and to claim responsibility for that was as stupid as one can get.On Wednesday the Saudi Air Force flew 500 bombing runs against ISIS and promised even more on Thursday.Wednesday Jamie sent me a text wanting me to stop by the armory on the way home from KCC. I helped her carry in the 9mm pistols and all the collected ammunition. UPS had delivered two thousand clips to make belts today. It was her cover story to grill me about the drones.We had a long conversation about them and that one day I would demonstrate them for her and Kevin at the same time. I also informed her that I had items in one of the gun safes and that I had changed the combination.I was just leaving when Marcy called to tell me that I had VIP visitors waiting for me in the refreshment lounge.I was not surprised to see Frank, Eric and Marty but I was surprised to see Smith, Phillips and Roberts - the wimpy triplets, as I thought of them - from NSA.I. Sprinting, I managed to get through, only being hit twice. As it closed behind me I heard more boots thudding into it followed by howls of laughter.I must have been a fine sight, riding through Bristol on my yellow, ancient 49cc Puch moped wearing filthy rugby kit. Shivers ran through me, but I resisted the temptation to stop and get my coat out of the kitbag. It would only end up filthy. The traffic late on this Saturday afternoon was light; only idiots would go out in this weather. Luckily, it was only a couple of miles to Ruths.I was just 18 and Ruth was my first regular girlfriend. We had been going out for around eight weeks but had not gone beyond snogging and fumbling. Work commitments and the fact that we lived on opposite sides of the city made things difficult. She was 19, small, two inches short of five feet but beautiful with a pixie face, little upturned nose, very long wavy brown hair with a fringe and a figure honed from gymnastics. I had not met her mother but knew.
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