Yesterday in a daring daylight holdup, an armed robber hit a local biscuit house demanding (the dough).
Fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving a trail of Bojangles’ biscuits in his wake he headed into the woods adjacent to the RV Park where we are staying.
Soon we were surrounded by a dozen city police, state troopers, assault weapon carrying county sheriffs and two Poochie Police Patrol units taking up position on the edge of the woods
The offender’s description? Male about 6 foot and 210 lbs. (a regular diner perhaps?). He also had a tattoo on his stomach. (Huh? How did a witness happen to see that?) Could it have been an indiscreet moment while displaying the weapon or perhaps while ingesting or stowing one of the ill-gotten globs of lard fried dough?
Hours of surveillance proved fruitless. No suspect was captured. No money was recovered. But, as the incident ended and one of the Poochie Police units rolled away with the back window open, I swear I heard a little canine burp and caught a whiff of sausage biscuit.
Portions of this story have been fabricated in order to…well… make it funnier.