The Car

    "Hey Riley, check it out!"  The call startled Riley, who was in the middle of walking Scotty along the sidewalk outside of his apartment complex.  He turned to identify the source of the statement, and in doing so also found himself checking "it" out.

    "It" was what appeared to be an old, vaguely box-shaped hatchback car.  There, however, the similarities ran out, as this particular car was painted in intricate camouflage patterns and appeared to have a hatch on the top of it.  After taking all this in, it occurred to Riley that he'd best find out just who was driving the car, as he needed to know whether to take cover or not. He stared hard at the windshield, and saw a tall, lanky, scruffy looking blond.

    "Grant?  Holy crap man, when did you get a car?"  Riley jogged towards the door, Scotty following excitedly along behind him.  They arrived at about the same time as Grant hit the brakes to avoid running over the two of them.  In their excitement over an oddly militaristic vehicle, the two had neglected to remember the first rule of examining a new car, namely to never run in front of it while it's moving, no matter how interesting it might be.  In any case, the brakes worked fine on this particular vehicle, and so any crisis involving Riley pancakes with a side of Scotty patties was avoided.

    "Just got it today," Josh replied, grinning enthusiastically.  "Isn't it cool?"

    "What's with the paint job?" Riley wanted to know, running his hand along the boxy curves of the frame.  Scotty, meanwhile, was busy dancing up and down, as he had to relieve himself at the moment and had been trained to only do that on the grass.  However, after a few moment's deliberation, he decided that the car was green enough, and added a bit of his own camouflage to it.

    "Oh, yeah... that."  Grant looked a little embarrassed by the question.  "I uh... well, I don't think I'm actually supposed to get this car."  To emphasize this point, he pushed a button on the dashboard.  A large mounted gun popped through the hatch on the roof.

    Riley's eyes bugged.  "Whoa."  He looked from the gun, to Josh, back to the gun, and finally (after a good minute or so of this back and forth nonsense) settled on looking at the gun.  "You certainly won't have to worry about traffic jams," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to Grant.  "So if you're not supposed to have this, who is?"

    Josh raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think, Rob?  General Grant."

    Riley was dumbfounded.  "How did they confuse you for an actual general?  I mean, it's just a nickname, right?"

    "Nicknames," Josh slowly said, "seem to carry a lot of weight with the military."

    "I suppose so," Riley allowed.  "So when do you think the military's going to figure out this little mistake?"

    Grant shrugged.  "Not for a while, I suspect.  Bureaucracy has never been known to be swift."  A sly grin appeared on his face.  "Especially not when General Grant sent an acknowledgment of receiving this souped-up hatchback."

    Robert nodded, but then looked confused.  "But why a hatchback?"
    
    "I dunno," Grant replied.  "Maybe they're low on funding or something."

    "So let me get this straight:  You've got a car with a big gun and camouflage, and the military won't figure out it was delivered to the wrong General Grant, at least not for a very long time?"  Riley asked.

    "Yeah, that's pretty much it," responded Josh.  Riley stroked his scruffy goatee contemplatively.

    "Cool," he said.  "Wanna go on a beer run?"

    "Sure, why not?"  Grant reached over and opened the passenger door.  As Riley and Scotty got into the car, Riley stopped.
    
    "Hey Josh."
    
    "Yeah?"

    "You might want to put the gun away first," Riley suggested. Grant blinked, having forgotten all about the gun on top of his car.

    "Oh yeah."  He flipped the switch, and the gun retracted. The three (the dog counts, after all) drove off down the street, and Grant demonstrated the power of a military-grade sound system by cracking the glass of a newspaper dispenser.

********

    In a shadowy corner of a shadowy alleyway, a shadowy figure watched as the military hatchback drove down the street.  A shadowy smile appeared on the shadowy face of the figure.  So, the two had the car, just as they should have.  The shadowy facets of the shadowy plan were falling (in shadows, of course) into place.  The figure withdrew a cell phone from his shadowy coat, and placed a call.  "Yes sir, everything is going as planned."

    Drama!  Intrigue!  Dogs with bladder problems!  Who is this shadowy figure?  Who is his shadowy employer?  What shadowy plans are our heroes caught up in now?  Will I ever stop saying "shadowy?"  Tune in next time, when I'm sure you'll forget all about this shadow business as I artfully throw continuity to the four winds!