This 'lil tale is for all our 'Elks, wherever you may be...
    Last night, about 3:00 in the morning, I thought I heard a noise. I sat up in bed, listening and sure enough, there was some rustling sounds coming out of the office downstairs, so I quickly slipped something on, grabbed my trusty Smith & Wesson .38 and headed for the stairs. I crept quietly down and towards the office doors when suddenly, two figures flew past me like a flash- it scared me so bad, I started shootin' holes in the ceiling and yelling for my wife to call 911. After a couple of minutes, things got quiet again (the dog finally stopped barking and my wife stopped dodging bullets coming through the floor) so I eased into our office and cut on the lights. Papers were strewn everywhere and my KISS toothbrush was laying in the floor, broken into pieces. This guitar was laying in its open case and the accessories compartment was open. I walked over to look and it was at the moment when Douglasville's finest broke into the room yelling as loudly as they could. "Freeze you scumbag and drop that pistol NOW". I turned around to tell them that I lived there and was the victim of this mess when three guys that could have played offensive linemen for the Dallas Cowboys heaped on top of me, bending limbs into positions that they weren't meant to go and basically flattening me out. "I live here, you idiots" I yelled and it was at that moment a 350 pound gorilla walked across the room, picked me up by the nuts and the neck, carried me around the house to the front driveway and threw me (not gently) into the back of a squad car. Now the whole trip up to the Police station, I'm yellin' and kicking the doors and seat back, trying to state both my innocence and the injustice of the way I was being treated. Heck, I pay taxes, for crying out loud and was under the assumption that I was innocent until proven guilty. I might as well been performing Hindu chants at a whisper level, because the driver said nothing until we drove into the reception bay at the station where five sweating behemoths were anxiously awaiting my arrival. Without a word, these apes dragged my behind out of the back of that car, down a long hallway and into a dark room. I was handcuffed to a straight- backed chair and then, BLAMMO- a white light was shining in my face and Ladies and Gentlemen, I had to pee. Right then. The following is my hazy recollection of what happened:
 Cop #1: " Just who the heck do you think you are shooting at us? Do you have a death wish, boy"?
 Me: "Do What"?
 Wham! I took a shot to the jaw that felt like nothing less than a Peterbuilt at 60 mph.
 #2: "He asked you a question, you poor excuse for an oompah loompah. What were you doing in that ladies house, shootin' off a gun like you're at a Fourth of July party"?
 Me: I told you I live there. Somebody was breaking into my house and they ran by me when I got down to the office. That's my house you morons"!
 Slam! Both me and the chair were knocked off its legs by a direct shot to the right eye with an ESPN- approved, 6 pound, single sided, American Standard Lumberjack Special axe. The pack of goons sat me back up and here comes another crack to the tater- Kaslammo! I'm blubbering at this point when one of the cops starts yelling at me so red faced, I thought he was going to stroke out right in front of me.
 #3: "Where is the COA and case candy for the Les Paul that was in your floor? You know, the Iced Tea Burst? What did you do with it, you instant felon"?
 Me: I don't know what in the heck you are talking abo- Cram! Another blow to the noggin came out of nowhere and at this point, my head is rolling around like an Evander Holyfield bobblehead doll. Believe me, there is zero control of the cabbage that is attached to my shoulders. Then, a short, skinny, bald headed cop with a Fu Manchu mustache eases up really close to me. He smelled like really cheap cigars and had two beady eyes, just like a stinky rat.
 #4: "We know you took that case candy outta that Les Paul case and we're all going to stay here playing home- run derby with your hat rack until you fess up on where it is you put it. Now git ta tawkin, Buddy..."
 Me: (laughing and crying at the same time) I didn't do anything with that stuff. I swear on General Robert E. Lee's grave I ain't touched nothing". Then, I saw them: two long cables attached to what looked like a huge Marine battery and they made sparks fly all over the room when touched together. One of the big, escaped gorilla cops had them and was walking my way. In my complete disorientation, I glanced down at the fat cops pants and saw what looked like something hanging out of his front pocket. What later turned out to be an Asp baton looked just like a fried chicken leg and for reasons I cannot explain to this day, I started laughing uncontrollably.
 Me: "You know, Skinny, Vince Neil had one of those in his hand when he fell his fattass off of the stage at the last Motley Crue concert". Whaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhh- I couldn't control myself.
  Shouldn't have done that. Those fellas hooked me up to that battery and lit me up like a Cher concert (flames were everywhere). The fillings in my teeth were glowing red and hair started growing on my back. This is when I broke and muttered through what was left of my lips and teeth, "Alright, I'll confess".
 Skinny Cop: "Hush boys, he's a gonna tawk".
 Me. "Just stop. I'll tell you everything. The reason....the reason the COA and case candy aren't in the case is........is.......is.....
  The place was as quiet as a church- nobody moved a muscle and nobody said a word. You could literally hear the sweat droplets hit the floor from the five country fried steak- infused gentlemen gathered around me.
 Me: "The reason is......THEY WEREN'T IN THE CASE WHEN WE BOUGHT THE GUITAR. THE GUY WE GOT THE GUITAR FROM DIDN'T HAVE ANY OF THAT STUFF" and now I was speaking in tongues with both of my eyes bulging out of my head, telling the boys to hit me again, I liked it.
  They waited a minute and then #1 said, "Oh, we didn't know that. Why didn't you just say so? Hell Charlie, you and Mack get him out of those cuffs. Skinny, go get me a couple of wet towels and a cup of hot coffee for our friend here. Say fella, we sure are sorry we roughed you up a bit- you know how the boys get a little excited when we see a guitar with the case candy missing and when we saw that the COA was MIA? Well, it's like trying to hold back a bunch of coyotes looking a rabbit with chocolate sauce down his back. Here, let me help you up".
  I stumbled up to the front waiting area, praying to sweet Mother Mary that a heated car would pull up and give me a ride home. I thought I kept stepping on Chiclets in the hallway, but those were actually my teeth falling out of my face. All of a sudden, the rat- looking, skinny cop walks up to the tubby #1 and whispers something in his ear. All I could make out was something about me having a "Jimmy Page Les Paul with the plastic overlay missing" and the next thing I know, I'm standing in front of the Police station in 34 degree weather, in my Aqua-man underoos and a pair of unmatched socks. My wife later told me that she found me wandering the isles of our local Piggly Wiggly, saying that I wanted my Mama...
  Simply put, this chambered R8 is in exceptionally clean condition, weighs 7 lbs, 12 oz, has a killer top, sounds like a ton of bricks and comes with your usual Elk guarantee. Oh, you get a story too...