Scene: The Saskachewan Institute for the Criminally Kilted

The day had come. The Doctors had all concurred and the proper documents were signed. The blonde Englishman’s restraints were removed and he was led from his padded cell. He gratefully thanked the staff at the institute for his recovery and assured them that he would remember their dedication in restoring his shattered sanity. It was a cold Fall afternoon in Saskatchewan as the rehabilitated patient walked out of the Mental institution a free man. The leaves crunched beneath his boots and his kilt flared up slightly in the wind as he walked down the road amidst a swirl of dancing brown and yellow leaves.

His face was thoughtful, and he seemed almost unmindful of the car that pulled up next to him. A very large figure with a sporran stretched over the top of his head for some inexplicable reason emerged holding a gleaming Ice Blue Halliburton case. The blond man stopped and regarded the figure with the barest nod. Without word took the case and set it on the hood of the vehicle. He produced a key from his pocket and opened the gleaming case. Grant grinned as he reached inside and removed the rubber chicken.

He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh…