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Wherever these guys had gone, they'd taken their stuff. No sign of foul play. The only entrance was on the house-side of the garage, and that covered by a screendoor. When he finally got to his row, the look on his seatmate's face flickered between envious lust and uncomfortable fear. Murdock," the Sheriff said, opening the screen door and tossing Murdock into the garage, "not just construction-crew yokels with no ambition beyond their own sexual satisfaction.

It looks like plant pollen -- we're analyzing it now.

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The flight attendants ran to him, even with the difficult slope of the floor during takeoff. My man My Love Just then a guy came around the corner and we made eye contact. He backed away from the plant quickly, actually frightened. He pocketed his cell-phone, leaving the room -- leaving the plant and the pollen sample behind -- and got directions to the Sheriff's house from the man at the front desk. If not, it didn't matter. They'd wave back -- remembering that the Sheriff was a big man, but not realizing quite HOW big.

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His pants fared better -- but only a bit. In the tradition of television shows based on movies -- i. Robbie Ray weighed a buck-fifty if he was lucky. Not that looks had mattered to Sheriff Lane, or to the Symbiotes themselves -- they required their Protectors to be heavily-muscled warriors, not handsome ones -- but, as they said in cartoons, "it didn't HOIT. Murdock couldn't imagine how the Sheriff dressed the way he did -- swear to God, it looked like his uniform was shrinking as time went by -- and it left nothing to the imagination!