the smuggler’s bible

Thirteen hundred fifty-six

You wake up early and put on your chainmail.

Wait, I mean your T-shirt.

Work is tough. Sometime after 10 a.m., you realize you are fighting the battle of Poitiers. You are Edward the Black Prince and, admittedly, you have been burning peasants. Life puts King John II in your way with eleven thousand hard-eyed Frenchmen.

That is way too many.

But you stick to the hedge when you have to. You duck. You weave. You strike the flanks.

And suddenly it hits you. “Oh my god,” you think, “what am I supposed to do if I win this thing?”