Some are so grand you cease to think of them as statues. They grow to be called 'monuments', or 'landmarks', or 'tourist attractions'.

They are the ones you have to watch out for.

Or so the bigwigs think, anyway. They're convinced Colossus is going to come to life and go on some sort of rampage. The chances of this happening are pretty slim, but they nonetheless insist on having the world's largest statues on surveillance 24/7/365.

What I did do draw the surveillance shift is beyond me. Usually they give it to the screwups, and let the ones who do a good job sit around and play cards. If you want to know which group I normally fit into, try to beat me at five card stud. If you want to know which group I normally don't fit into, ask me how many times I've been on surveillance.

But here I was anyway, lying on my belly on a dingy roof in the city with a pair of binoculars, a water bottle and packed lunch, a radio, and an umbrella. The weather was beautiful, but one of the boys back home had warned me to bring it anyway, and set it up over my head. And, as a pigeon flew overheard and christened the formerly immaculate umbrella with yesterday's lunch, I was grateful that I had listened.

Tearing my attention from the busy streets below my , picked up my binoculars and set my sights on the subject of all this fuss.

The Statue of Liberty.

The End

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