Confessions From The Recession

Confessions From the Recession

Season 1 Episode 6

“Booty The Barn Owl On Border Patrol”

Having a prefix for a first name really defined the blonde-haired cover model who stayed away from long nights swinging on stage with a pole and made a respectable financial living going across the symbolic Canadian/American border. Slowing down to a complete stop Tran was able to see “old Glory” in the distance. Realizing home was only a couple of miles away she perked up and grabbed the zip lock bag containing all the proper documents prepared by the corporate office.

Finding any lane to proceed the working car pulling a boat designed for recreational crew training came to a halt underneath the overhang and Tran saw a cute bird sitting patiently in the glass enclosed vestibule.

“Ma’am,” a uniformed gentleman sporting the stars and stripes patch approached her, “can I see your civilian citizen papers?”

“Sure can,” Tran agreed without a concern.

“I will be right back,”

“You should have a bald eagle statue,” Tran innocently giggled.

“That is not a bald eagle, ma’am,” the border agent corrected projecting a stern look, “that is my wildlife associate Booty the Barn Owl, and he is not a statue he is real.”

A few seconds later the federal employee returned, “Ma’am where are you headed?”

“To the United States to complete a delivery for Mr. Oxford,” Tran stated, “the blue boat behind me is his and I need to take it to a place called ‘The Barn’ a few miles from here.”

“I see,” the agent mentioned, “I hate to tell you but there is a slight problem, and you are going to have to park over there and go into the bigger offices where we have a better computer system.”

“And your name is?” Tran felt a little insecure, “in case they ask.”

“Oh, it will be just me,” the friendly image responded, “but my name is Border Agent Sam Chapman.”

“Okay Border Agent Sam Chapman, just give me a second.”

Not even five minutes passed, and Tran was in her successful mode dressed like a New York City workday professional marching into the detention center masquerading around as a business. Electronic doors quickly gave entry revealing the receptionist, “Good afternoon,” Tran greeted, “where is Border Agent Sam Chapman’s office?”

Without the secretary letting the Sicilian pizza lunch go the designated gatekeeper pointed, and Tran followed her direction. Sitting down peering outside for a few seconds admiring the view which suddenly was interrupted by Booty the Barn Owl finding his local pet store bought felted resting spot that was paid for using tax-payers money.

“Well, Miss Reed, I am sorry to delay your travel, but I need to check some inaccuracies in our computer,” Border Agent Chapman explained, “just give me a second,”

“Such a picturesque postcard you have here,”

“Yes,” Border Agent Chapman told her, “But just like good looks, what appears beautiful could end up dangerously deceiving.”

Laughing Tran started to drop her guard, “well, I did some local advertising spots in my younger days and that is how I met Mr. Oxford, it was either the executive suits or my single birthday one appropriate for the clubs.”

While stroking the keyboard Border Agent Chapman discovered the mistake, “apparently when you were going into Canada for the pick-up some hoser keyed in the wrong character and labeled you an Ex-convict.”

After making the correction Tran Reed went from guilty to innocent, “I am truly sorry for this,” Border Agent Chapman apologized.

“That is all right I assumed it was a misreading,” Tran started to stand up noticing Booty the Barn Owl never took his eyes off the suspect, “just do not do it again.”

Walking out Tran engaged the wintry chill invading her bones as the sunsetting light turned dark. Only a half hour later everything was pitch black and headlights illuminated an important sign, “The Barn.”

“Oh, good almost there,” Tran mumbled to herself turning onto the unpaved driveway. Slowly the automobile and what was behind it arrived at the path’s end.

After activating the emergency brake Tran slipped off her driving high heels for preppie stable dock attire before stretching the athletic legs she spent a lifetime perfecting,

“Mr. Oxford, are you here?”

Taking a few steps, she noticed the water garage nicknamed ‘The Barn’ was visible and it seemed someone was down there ready to take over the operation. Without any incidents Tran arrived on the dock and peeked inside the boat house, “Excuse me, anybody here, I have this beautiful rowboat wanting its slip,”

When silence responded Tran stepped inside the marine storage area, “Mr. Oxford,” she called out before her golden hair interacted with a string, “oh I guess this will help,” and she grabbed the simple mechanism.

Suddenly the whole setting was bright as day and the spotlights disrupted a resident creature peacefully fast asleep. Not realizing the error Tran only saw one last thing and that was a pair of angry blood shot red eyes intent on finishing the job she started in another country.

Patiently waiting beside the public owned jeep Ranger Sam Chapman heard the shriek and saw his nocturnal flyer colleague airborne until landing on the hood only a few inches away. Holding wet napkins from the barbeque pit Sam wiped the blood off the claws, then taking the cell phone out dialed a number, “This is federal employee Border Agent and Ranger Sam Chapman calling to tell you American Miss Tran Reed has been eliminated.” Hearing the recording tape finish, he hung up.

Sometime later the former rural mall mannequin model unlatched the wooden door and Booty the Barn Owl left his shoulder for a cozy place inside the ‘Ranger Station’ cabin. After tending to the furnace Ranger Chapman sat down and checked the daily paperwork making sure the data did not encounter any typographical issues.