It’s been said, that on cold windy nights when the moon is partially obscured by orange-ish clouds, that there are strange “goings on” down at the training center.  There are rumors of voices emanating from the bowels of the storage rooms.  Some say they have heard what sounds like poker chips being tossed into a big money pot.  And then there is the snap of bottle caps being released from carbonated beverages.   There is a tale of loud laughter and snippets of odd conversations.     It was relayed to me by a “reliable source” that the hoarse voices murmur cryptic dialogue, “Those “fleshies” ought to wipe their sweaty palms now and again before crushing my chest.”  “Yea, you think the “blowers of air” could occasionally spring for a tic tac or some Listerine.  I thought I was going to gag this afternoon.”  Loud guffaws and the clinking of bottles followed.

Is it an urban legend, or a compilation of several spooky stories synthesized into one wacky myth?  Let Victor provide you with his own confounding theories.

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