Post by Brandon Cole on Jul 2, 2017 23:16:36 GMT -5
--There must be some kind of way outta here
Said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief...
Business men, they drink my wine
Plowman dig my earth
None were level on the mind
Nobody up at his word...
Hey, hey
No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us stop talkin' falsely now
The hour's getting late, hey.. -- All Along The Watchtower, Jimi Hendrix
After making sure everyone who he and his Scout team had accompanied back to San Simeon through Medical and everything, Brandon headed up to the Top Floor of San Simeon's Main Castle and went up to the watchtower cupola, taking over for the guard already on-duty up there; with him were his radio and his pistol (his AR-15 was in one of the Toyota Tundras' down in the parking area below). Having watched a couple of aircraft taking off from the grass airfield - why in the holy fuck would someone take off in this weather? he wondered, a couple of loud thunder boomers seemingly answering his question for him - Brandon sat, watching the area around San Simeon for as far as he could see, a set of high-grade binoculars' sitting nearby.
Taking out a pack of hand-rolled cigarillos, Brandon lit one and sat back, drawing in a long breath of smoke and exhaling it out, watching it drift and float around in the air like a psychic's seance smoke....and for a few moments, he tried to read the smoke for any signs of what the future held for everyone at San Simeon. After several moments of trying, he sat back up in his watch chair and continued watching the area, pausing to take a drag off the cigarillo as he sat there, half-lost in his own thoughts....
Said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief...
Business men, they drink my wine
Plowman dig my earth
None were level on the mind
Nobody up at his word...
Hey, hey
No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us stop talkin' falsely now
The hour's getting late, hey.. -- All Along The Watchtower, Jimi Hendrix
After making sure everyone who he and his Scout team had accompanied back to San Simeon through Medical and everything, Brandon headed up to the Top Floor of San Simeon's Main Castle and went up to the watchtower cupola, taking over for the guard already on-duty up there; with him were his radio and his pistol (his AR-15 was in one of the Toyota Tundras' down in the parking area below). Having watched a couple of aircraft taking off from the grass airfield - why in the holy fuck would someone take off in this weather? he wondered, a couple of loud thunder boomers seemingly answering his question for him - Brandon sat, watching the area around San Simeon for as far as he could see, a set of high-grade binoculars' sitting nearby.
Taking out a pack of hand-rolled cigarillos, Brandon lit one and sat back, drawing in a long breath of smoke and exhaling it out, watching it drift and float around in the air like a psychic's seance smoke....and for a few moments, he tried to read the smoke for any signs of what the future held for everyone at San Simeon. After several moments of trying, he sat back up in his watch chair and continued watching the area, pausing to take a drag off the cigarillo as he sat there, half-lost in his own thoughts....