“In the battle, we're tried and true…”
By David Benjamin
“Governor [Mike] Pence
believes in the right to keep and bear arms, and that this… law…
accomplishes the goal of keeping parents and law-abiding citizens from
being charged with a felony when they pick their kids up at school or go
to cheer on the local basketball team.” — Kara Brooks, spokeswoman
HOOSIER
HOLLOW, Ind. — A sheriff’s deputy, responding to a call from the
principal of Hoosier Hollow Grammar School, encounters, at the far edge
of the school parking lot, a weird sight. A ‘97 Dodge Ram, painted in
jungle camouflage. Something large in the truck-bed is shrouded under a
matching heavy-canvas camo-print tarpaulin. The Ram is surrounded by
sandbags. Deputy Fife approaches hesitantly and knocks on the tailgate. A
head pops out. Fu-Manchu mustache, bandanna do-rag, long, greasy hair
tied back in a ponytail. Big yellow smile.
The face says, “Hey there, pardner!”
“Um,” says Deputy Fife, “Who — ”
A
heavy-set figure steps out from under the tarp, revealing camouflage
fatigues, body armor and criss-cross ammo-belts strung with huge,
evil-looking cartridges. He says, “Oh, hell, pardner. You can just call
me Gunner.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Gunner? Well, OK. So, Gunner… what is all this?”
GUNNER: “I’m just settin’ up a machine-gun nest here. I’d show you the gun — it’s a beauty! — but that would be against the law.”
DEPUTY
FIFE: “Sir… er, Gunner. Offhand, I’d say that if you’re mounting an
automatic weapon within range of an elementary school, well… Chances are
you’re already breaking the law.”
GUNNER: “Oh no, deputy. Not
any more. According to the law just signed by Gov. Pence, bless his
heart, I’m cool here — as long as my Dodge is locked — I even put a
padlock on the tailgate — y’see there? — and I keep the gun out of
sight. And I tell ya, dude, this here baby is totally outasight! We’re talkin’ a bolt-release .50-caliber Browning
M2, air-cooled and belt-fed, sittin’ on an M3 tripod, puttin’ out
armor-piercing SLAP ammo with a 2,000-meter range. I mean, talk about
turnin’ your target into a puddle of Jell-O!”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Wait a minute, Gunner! That’s a lot of firepower. What’s it for?”
GUNNER:
“What’s it for? C’mon, deputy. Whaddya think it’s for? I’m gonna start
shootin’ little boys and girls! And teachers. Maybe even you! Which, by
the way, IS against the law. But you can’t touch me ‘til I squeeze that
trigger.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Shooting?! But what could possibly motivate — ”
GUNNER:
“Motivate?! Looky over yonder, deputy. Second floor of the school, fifth
window over? Y’see there? That’s Miss Brackley’s classroom. That woman
made third grade absolute hell for me. Ruined my life. I would’ve never
touched crystal meth if not for that evil bitch. I probably never
would’ve raped my little sister Doreen, or killed all those puppies, or
set fire to Fluffy.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Fluffy?”
GUNNER: “She’s
up there right now, destroying the lives of more little kids. They’re
already ruined. I have to stop them before they all turn out like me,
deputy. ‘Cause I’m rotten, man! Rotten to the core! ROTTEN, I tell ya!”
DEPUTY FIFE: (Placatingly) “Oh, I don’t know, Gunner. You don’t seem so bad.”
GUNNER: “Oh
yeah? You think so? OK, go over to my parents’ house. Look in the
bedroom. And the kitchen. And the root cellar. And the recycling bin.
And the hot tub. See if you can piece their bodies back together. But be
careful you don’t trip over their intestines. And watch out for
booby-traps.”
DEPUTY FIFE: (Shuddering) “All right, Gunner. I believe you. You’re rotten.”
GUNNER: “Thanks, bro. But up ‘til third grade, honest to God, I was OK.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “I see, but… Gunner, you look to be, like 25 years old now —”
GUNNER: “Twenty-eight, actually. But I moisturize.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Oh! Really? Y’know, I should, too. But then, I get busy. Or I’m late for work…”
GUNNER:
“This is what I’m talkin’ about, man. I mean, Miss Brackley, right?
Beautiful skin. Like silk! But in a whole year of third grade, does she
say one word about razor burn, crow’s feet, xeroderma? Does she even mention shea butter? Or shark’s liver? Or even Oil of Olay, for Pete’s sake!”
DEPUTY
FIFE: “Yeah, Gunner, I see. She was a monster, but… third grade? That’s
a long time ago. Why didn’t come back to kill Miss Brackley when she
was still fresh in your mind? You could have spared so many
third-graders from dry skin. And incest. And crime. Not to mention all
those dead puppies.”
GUNNER: “Hey,
don’t rub it in, pardner. This is my greatest regret. I think of all the
good I could’ve done for mankind, if only I hadn’t put it off, and put
it off. But that’s part of my rottenness, man. Plus, I only just got out
of prison a month ago. And it took a while to get delivery on this
beauty of a gun.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Wish I could see it. Where’d you find it?”
GUNNER: “On
the Web. You can get any gun on the Web. There was a couple of guided
missiles that were really primo. But they were out of my price range.”
DEPUTY FIFE: “Too bad, Gunner. But I’m still wondering — ”
GUNNER: “I
know, bro. You wanna know how I finally got up the nerve. Well, I tell
ya, I wouldn’t be here today living my dream, except that Rep. Jim Lucas
and the Indiana legislature pretty much up and said to me, personally:
‘Yo, Gunner! Go ahead and grease the bitch. We’ll make it easy.’ If not
for a bunch of elected gun nuts allowing me to buy a whole lot of
high-quality ordnance, and then inviting me to this parking lot, where I
couldn’t miss even if I tried? I mean, without all that help, man,
what’re the odds for a screw-up like me?”
DEPUTY FIFE: “I see your point, Gunner. Well, God bless democracy.”
GUNNER: “ You
got that right, pal. Now, you better stand back and tweet the National
Guard. I’m gonna start shootin’ and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Saturday, April 5, 2014
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