-Caveat Lector-

More!!! Was THIS suppressed????
Or is it parody???
Hmmm...



 Wrigley Field Surrounded by UN Forces!
Reported July 5, 1998
Chicago, Illinois USA


Wrigley Field - Home of America's Team, the Chicago Cubs.

I just moved to Chicago, Illinois from East Dubuque, Illinois to be closer to
my favorite place in the world, Wrigley Field. I managed to find an apartment
just two blocks away, so I'm able to watch the Chicago Cubs as much as I want
to.

Over the 4th of July weekend, some friends came to visit from out of town. We
decided to catch a Cubs game on Saturday. It was a beautiful day out, so we
headed to the bars early in the morning to get the day started off right. I
like to follow a balanced diet and so the first drinks we ordered were bloody
marys with some veggies in them. Then I started in on the vodka sours.

After a couple hours of social drinking, we headed across the street to the
stadium to try to scalp some tickets for the outfield bleachers. I wore my
shades and let my cigarette dangle casually over my bottom lip. I walked to
the first scalper we saw and told him that we needed some tickets. He said
that it was going to cost us $20 each. I told him that I had $15 for each of
them. He could tell right away that I was all about business. He gave me the
tickets for my price without even trying to counter offer.

We got real ripped at Wrigley Stadium as we watched the Chicago Cubs beat the
Pittsburgh Pirates. They have these frozen type drinks there made with
everyone's favorite hard liquors. I liked the vodka lemonades the best, but
they also had margaritas and daiquiris. Those cold drinks sure were
refreshing while we sat in the warm sun. After the game was over I asked one
of my buddies if the Cubs had won and then we headed over to Murph's
Bleachers for some post game beers.


I really enjoyed the cold, refreshing drinks while we sat underneath the warm
sun in the bleachers.

After a few beers at Murph's, we realized that it was getting a little late.
We decided we better hit some more different bars since they were only open
until 4AM. One of the places we went to had a couple of bowling lanes in it
and they had these high school kids working as "pin monkeys". When the ball
would knock down the pins, they would set them up again for you. It was
pretty damn fun to try to hit those little guys with your bowling ball while
they were working. The vodka sours tasted very nice throughout the rest of
the night.

I was getting a little hungry so I left the bar without telling my buds and
headed to the closest convenience store. I purchased a bag of chips and
started back to the bar eating the chips as I walked. Somehow I must have
gotten lost, because the buildings started to look unfamiliar.

I spotted several guys hanging out on a corner and so I approached them and
asked them for directions. They told me that I looked like I was in the wrong
area. When I asked why, they told me that I was in a "pink zone" and I didn't
look like I belonged there. They laughed when I asked what a pink zone was.
Their accents were unusual and they sounded a little like those Euro-type
boys. They proceeded to tell me that there were other districts like that one
in Dallas, Minneapolis, and even Columbus.

After they spilled their guts, I began to survey the scene. I noticed that
rainbow colored flags hung above the doors to the bars in the zone. The men
standing in line waiting to get into the bars seemed to be wearing similar
uniforms which consisted of tight jeans and white, tank-top shirts. They all
looked like they were in their twenties and in excellent physical condition.
There didn't seem to be any women present. Some of them were standing very
closely together in pairs as if they were worried that someone would overhear
their conversations.

At that moment, a black Hum-Vee with tinted windows drove by at a high rate
of speed and then the situation clearly came into focus for me. It was as if
a fog of lies had just been lifted from my brain. I remembered the
conversation I had with a guy at a bar a few nights before. He told me how
the UN had troops in America and controlled a lot of our national parks. They
were planning to use them as staging areas for the invasion of America. The
truth hit me like an elevated train -- the region that I had casually
wandered into was UN occupied!

I immediately walked towards the nearest bar. I moved towards the line
waiting to get in and then snuck behind the guys taking cards at the door. I
jumped up and ripped down the flag above the door and sprinted down the
closest alley. When I looked over my shoulder I saw that three guys were in
close pursuit. They must have been Foreign Legion/Commando types, because
they weighed at least 300 pounds and they were still able to run extremely
fast (they even kept up with me). I noticed that they were yelling commands
into elaborate, mobile communications equipment. They must have been radioing
back to their headquarters, so I made sure to scan the skies for incoming
helicopter gunships.


French Foreign Legion soldier with standard equipment.

They finally caught up to me after one of my shoelaces got extremely loose,
which caused me to lose some speed. One of the guys dove for my legs, wrapped
them up, and I fell to the pavement. I got to my feet very quickly and
countered a volley of their punches and kicks with well-placed blocks. I had
taken a half credit Karate lab in a college personal wellness class and it
paid off big time in that alley.

I could tell that these guys were having second thoughts about mixing it up
with me, so they sprayed me in the face with heavy-duty mace. I fell to the
ground ad they started kicking me with their big, military boots for about an
hour until I had to release my grip on the flag. They must have thought that
I was dead, because they headed back to the bar. I was a long ways from being
dead and, truth be told, I've had a lot worse than that! I had managed to
build up a tolerance to mace years before at riots I had participated in
during our college homecomings. Also, I have been savagely beaten before in
outnumbered situations. One time, the defensive line of the football team
ganged up on me just because I accidentally hit one of the guy's sisters with
a beer stein I threw.


Photo of the UN flag that I now display as a trophy above my TV.

The guys happened to leave the flag on the ground beside me, probably because
I had wrinkled it severely during our struggle. I immediately grabbed the
flag, jumped into a cab and told the driver to step on it and get me out of
this district. To my horror, I looked at his ID badge and noticed that his
name was "Ahmad" which I knew was no American name! Before he could drive me
back to a UN interrogation center, I dove out of the cab. Luckily, he was
only going about 45 or so and I managed to land on top of a big plastic
trashcan. I made it back to my apartment safely by utilizing natural and
manmade cover and walking in a stealthy manner.

I woke up physically and emotionally scarred from my brush with UN forces.
Beware the rainbow flag, America!

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