“In the battle, we're tried and true…”

SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 2014
The Weekly Screed (#670)

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’s 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.”