"I don't care what you say, that woman's gravy should be a food group. I'm telling you, you could put that shit on anything and I'd eat it."
A roll of smoke came up from a half burned out cigar and there was no respond from the steely eyed man who sat in the helicopter seat next to the portly pilot sitting next to him. Yet from the back, resting an arm on the large weapon welded to the frame and another holding a straw made cowboy hat to his head, a middle aged man let out a broad smile and laughed. "Fuck you'd eat anything anyways. With or without her gravy. Shit I've seen you do it. Anyone else remember the wiper blade?" he asked through crooked grin.
"I was drunk and it was a dare!" the pilot retorted, turning slightly in his chair to look back at the man on the gun. He felt a large hand on his cheek and he was snapped back looking forward. His lips tightened and he nodded slightly to the physical correction.
"And the jelly fish?"
"Oh suck my dick Panama!"
"Have to find it first Shamu!"
"Enough you two," the elder of the group finally said in a calm but firm voice.
"Sorry Double O," came in unison.
The two men went silent and stopped their poking at one another but Panama kept a cheeky grin on his face as he went back to looking out over the trees that covered the ground. A woman looked over the rim of her purple tinted glasses and chuckled a bit. "Y'all keep it up and that cigar of his is gonna wind up in your ass," she said with a smirk.
"Wouldn't waste the cigar," the man finally said and smirked. Leaning out of the open door slightly, the woman held tight and took a glance around. "What is it?"
"Twelve O'Clock, we got one," she said and pointed down the road.
"You sure that ain't a Rambler?" Panama asked as he leaned over and looked.
"Bitch please, who has the eyes here?" she snapped.
"Hey, I ain't the one with glasses," he quickly snapped back and then grinned and slipped back to his position as she gave him the look.
"Alright, bring us down Dusty. High alert everyone, you know the drill," the man in charge said as he leaned back in his seat. The helicopter came over heard and swooped around, taking a long and leisurely circle around the small area before it started to set down at the corner of 22 and 71 (D7). The winds the blades caused kicking up everything around it. The blades slowed as the man in the cowboy hat pointed the large gun at the kid in the street.
The passenger side door and the more elderly of men among the group climbed out, armed and with a cigar clenched between his teeth. "Nice dog," he said as he struck a match and relit the dead ember at the end of the thick cigar. "Gotta name?"