The UNCLE Wives Club

not your usual fanfiction

The Peruvian Snow Affair

In the still darkness of night, hot and sticky in the jungles of Peru, a single gunshot rang out that broke the eerie stillness and a shadowy figure ran out of a thatched roof house, a large bag in his hands.  He quietly but quickly hopped into a jeep.  From the bushes emerged a group of hostile-looking natives, armed with rifles, firing at the jeep as the motor started and it sped away.


About ten miles away, the jeep came to a screeching halt at a crudely built dirt airstrip, where an ancient B-52 was waiting, the engines running quite noisily.  He jumped out of the vehicle and ducked as he saw a couple of trucks approaching, with approximately half a dozen armed men on each, firing at him.  He pulled the rifle off his shoulder and commenced firing. He had help, for from inside the craft, three burly-looking fellows came off, rifles blazing furiously, killing a couple from the opposing side and wounding several others.  In a few short minutes, the ruckus was over and the guy grabbed the bag off the jeep and high-tailed it onto the plane behind his cronies.  “Let’s go!” he ordered as the door shut.


Once inside, he took a seat as two of them took positions behind the wheel.  “You’ve arranged for the pickup in Miami?” he asked one of the men.


“Relax, Harry,” the pilot replied.  “Everything’s taken care of.”  The plane started rolling down the makeshift runway and he was, along with the other pilot, trying to lift the bird up into the black sky.  “The coordinates are set.  All we have to do is to dump it at the exact second.  It’ll get to your destination.”


A few hours later, out in the middle of the vast section of swampland and foliage known as the Florida Everglades, two men in a hovercraft waited by a clump of bushes and saw through night-vision binoculars a parachute falling from the sky.  As one continued to track the path of the parachute, the other started the craft and headed in the direction of their prey.


They reached it a few minutes later and drug it out of the swampy marsh and into the craft.  One of the guys opened it to discover the duffel bag packed to the brim with bags of white powder.  They quickly headed back in the direction from which they came.


They reached it a few minutes later and drug it out of the swampy marsh and into the craft.  One of the guys opened it to discover the duffel bag packed to the brim with bags of white powder.  They quickly headed back in the direction from which they came.


Once on solid land, the pair quickly loaded up the goods into the trunk of a sedan waiting by the side of the road.  “We held up our end,” one of them said to a figure waiting in the front passenger’s seat.  “Now for your end.”


Without a word, a gun barrel appeared from the open window and fired, killing both men instantly.  The driver, a big, burly black fellow, dragged both bodies and put them into the hovercraft.  He then started the motor and sent the vehicle out toward the swamp.  He then pulled out what looked like a rocket launcher from the trunk and sent an arrow out toward the hovercraft.  It hit inside the blades in the back and within a couple of seconds, the entire vehicle was engulfed in flames.  The driver calmly put the apparatus into the trunk before closing the lid and he got into the car.  “Where to, Mr. DeBeauharnais?” he asked as he started the ignition.


“To the hotel, please,” he answered, sounding tired.  “I need a good night’s sleep before I complete my journey,” he explained as the car drove away.

The next morning was the first day of classes at the prestigious L’Academie de Lafayette in Westchester County.  It was more or less a pre-semester Orientation Week, as classes didn’t officially start back until the day after Labor Day.  It was Monday, August 29, 1983.

The sun was shining with just a few fluffy cumulus clouds in the sky.  The neatly manicured lawn in front of the campus looked like a putting green, lush and full.  The trees were shading the front Administration Building quite nicely, but nothing was idyllic here.

The trees in front of the building had been decorated with streams of toilet paper, in shades of white, peach and blue.  That was only the tip of the iceberg, though.  There were also a herd of approximately one hundred head of Longhorn cattle grazing on the luxurious lawn.  The sign at the street, an imposing black marble sign that read “L’Academie de Lafayette” and underneath “established in 1964” had another sign underneath it.  The sign, made of white poster board and written in black block lettering read :  May It Rest In Pieces.