CURRENT ISSUE 01/28/03 Front Page Weekly Features Advice from Strangers Ain't That America? To-Do List Musing With Mitch NEW FEATURE! Riding Shotgun With Adventure Moth's Diary News from Travistan Movie Corner Info Archives Crap Shop Who's at Fault? Contact Us! Aye, mateys! Get you some Daily Probe booty!	Riding Shotgun   With Adventure   by Ron Langston   Part 8 - The Mightiest Wood Kings have commissioned great armies to search for it. Karaoke was invented so the common man could sing about it. In its long history it had been stolen, revered, moved, hidden, forgotten, worshipped, forgotten again and many years later found by Maoists rebels, who, unable to completely destroy it, chopped it up and fashioned it into a barstool. And now it was found, sitting unceremoniously in the dank Galway, Ireland pub of Whiskey O'Connors. Despite the fact it was disguised in mundane three legged form, covered by the disturbingly spreading bottom of Chase Leary, we could feel the power emanating from what was once in its original configuration -- the Diaper Bin of Jesus! As I looked around at the establishment's chalk pasty characters, I found it hard to believe the power of the stool went unnoticed and we were the first to know its nature. "Surely some one must wonder why this pub's kegs never empty and the peanut bowls never require a refill?" "Never mind that. Those are equal to the cheap tricks of edgy street magician David Blaine in comparison to its true power," my guide whispered to me fighting to be heard over the frog drowning rain roaring outside like NASCAR engines on a high idle, "If so many centuries ago, as we suspect, the Chosen One's bodily fluids soaked into the wood, the man who wields this bar stool as a weapon will be able to bring the globe's mightiest armies to its knees with but a single hand." But this also complicated knocking the seated Leary from this stool like weapon to seize it and flee. With the very power of God pulsing from the holes of his underwear through to his egg and sausage breakfast narrowed arteries -- this would be a Herculean task at best, no matter how deep he was into the cups. But my guide had a cleverness borne from years of dangerously selling black market Members Only jackets in the former Soviet Union. He nodded discreetly to the yawning gap between Leary's shirt bottom and the top of his belt, exposing a well carved channel created from a near infinite amount of Guinness. I suddenly realized what the bag of greased mice were for. Next time - Part 9: That Definitely Won't Wash Out
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