Oh, Shoot!
"Settle down, everybody, settle down," said the FDR's Prime Minister, Mr. President. "I know you're all upset, but let's have cooler heads prevail and all that."
"Cooler heads!" snapped Citizen George. "Easy for you to talk about cooler heads! None of your close friends or relatives are lying dead in a public building, now are they?"
"Hey," Mr. President protested, "I lost plenty of re-election votes in those men."
"Oh, did you?" said Citizen George. "Well, you can take my vote and shove -"
"Please!" shouted Will through a megaphone, loudly enough to shut everyone up. "Allow Mr. President to make a speech and attempt to console your losses. It's the least he can do." The crowd grudgingly remained silent, glowering at the Prime Minister.
"Yes, thank you, Will," said Mr. President. "Look, folks, I don't blame you for being angry. I know I look calm and disaffected to you, but inside I myself am incensed that I'll have to re-evaluate my whole campaign strategy. And I'm sure your losses go even beyond that."
"Just a bit," someone groused.
"It is a tragedy, to be sure, a sheer tragedy," continued Mr. President, "whenever anyone is taken from us early - for, as we all know, there is nowhere for them to go and we will never see them again. But, for what it is worth, my heart reaches out to you. Together we will remain strong, and somehow heal, and come through this ordeal with more resolve than ever before. Thank you."
The crowd hooted and cheered. Tears of distress that had graced their eyes moments before were replaced by tears of hope.
"Wait, wait, wait," said Citizen George. "That's all wonderful, of course, but there ought to be a way to ensure this never happens again." The crowd murmured their agreement.
"Oh, indeed," said Mr. President. "An excellent proposition. Well, let's examine the facts of the matter. What, ah, were the victims shot with?"
"A gun," said Vice Prime Minister William.
"Oh, makes sense. I must have missed that part of the news release. Well, what about the fellow with the gun? What was his deal?"
"He's an aggressive, belligerent nut case," said Citizen George. "I'd seen him around town a couple times before, but I never expected him to snap like this."
"Had a history of aggression, you say?" said Mr. President. "Well, then, it seems to me we ought to enact some sort of legislation to keep guns away from those people."
"No," said Citizen George, "that won't be nearly enough. Who isn't a little angry these days? What I'm thinking is that this never would have happened if we didn't have guns. No guns, no shooting, no death. See where I'm going with this?"
"A good point," murmured Vice Prime Minister William. "It is awfully hard to shoot someone without a gun."
"Then we'll ban guns," said Mr. President. "Solves that problem. Why didn't we think of this before?"
"What about the police and the military?" someone demanded.
"What about them? Oh, yes. I suppose they ought to have guns still. Those are rather essential to their line of work."
"And they can be trusted, of course," said Vice Prime Minister William.
"That is true," said Mr. President. "All right then, just the military and police shall have guns, and no one else. All in favor?"
It was unanimous.
***
Citizen Bob had just settled down for a relaxing night's sleep when he heard a thump in the kitchen. Dreading the worst, he jumped out of bed, stubbed his toes on something, and groped for a flashlight. Then he remembered that he wasn't in the habit of leaving a flashlight by his bed, so he decided to chance the dark.
When he reached the kitchen he saw the silhouette of a man, hunched over and carrying something that looked suspiciously like the silhouette of his television. The silhouette was headed for the window but had suddenly stopped. Citizen Bob held his breath. Then he remembered that no one had guns anymore, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
The silhouette turned and saw him.
"Hi," said Citizen Bob.
"Hi," said the silhouette.
Citizen Bob found a light and switched it on. He was confronted by a dingy, unshaven man about ten years his senior, who was indeed carrying his television. "Excuse me sir," he said to the man, "but, you see, that's mine. And I..."
The man set the television on the ground and pulled a crowbar out of his pocket. "Not anymore," he said.
Citizen Bob frowned. "Are you from the bank? It's in the mail, I swear."
The man stepped closer and grinned a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol. "I ain't from no bank," he said, "but I'll take a deposit anyway."
Citizen Bob laughed. "Nice try, but no thanks."
"That wasn't a suggestion," said the man. "It was a thinly veiled threat." He peered into the next room. "Say, you got a wife or daughter around here?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Dang. Well, just the money then. Fork over everything you got and we'll forget we ever had this little encounter. Otherwise..." he eyed his crowbar. "You know," he remarked, "I liked it better when I could just wave a gun around. But that's illegal now. So unless you cooperate I'll have to bash your head in with this."
Citizen Bob thought fast. Was there any way out of this? He couldn't think of any - of course! That was it! "All right," he said, "but that TV there is actually busted. I was going to have a guy here tomorrow to fix it up."
The man snorted. "How stupid do you think I am? All right, if it's busted, show me."
Citizen Bob knelt down to the TV and pushed the "on" button. It did not turn on.
"All right, I give," said the man. "Well, what now?"
"You can't call the repairman to your hideout, and if you take the TV in yourself it could be traced back to me - "
"Wait, how?"
"Because I carved my name into the back of it. But if you'll wait just a minute, I'll call the guy and say he needs to get over here right now or you'll bash my head in. He's a good friend of mine and that should motivate him."
"Do it," said the man.
Citizen Bob pulled out his phone. "I have to go to the other end of the house to get reception," he said, and the man grunted his permission. He ran back to his bedroom, shut the door, and quickly dialed 911. The phone rang once... twice... thrice... a few more times... and a sleepy voice said, "H'llo?"
"Hello, get me the police," said Citizen Bob. "I've got a guy in my house here who's going to kill me with a crowbar if I don't give him all my money." He gave his address.
"We'll be right there," the voice promised.
Citizen Bob returned to the kitchen. "He's on his way, Mr. - uh, what's your name?"
"Tookie," said the man.
"Nice to meet you, Tookie. Can I get you something while we wait?"
"Coffee, if it's not too much trouble. I'm exhausted."
Citizen Bob hurried about getting the coffee ready, hoping Tookie couldn't hear his heart pounding. He decided to continue idle conversation. "So, how'd you get into this line of work?"
Tookie stretched his legs as he settled into a chair. "Oh, I dunno," he said. "I used to work in an aluminum factory, but I got sick of losing half my paycheck to the Feds. So I figured, hey, why don't I operate under the radar and actually keep my earnings?"
"You want cream, sugar, anything?"
"Nah, plain black is fine. I am robbing you, after all."
"Thanks." Citizen Bob glanced at the warming coffeepot, then at the clock. It had only been two minutes since he called. Easy, he told himself, no need to get anxious. "How'd you end up here?" he asked.
"People started recognizing me back on the mainland, so I got in touch with some connections, and they got me sent here. I've already robbed three people tonight, and they barely had anything. What's the matter with you people? You think having money is a crime?"
Citizen Bob self-righteously threw out his chest, his fear forgotten. "As long as there are others who don't, yes," he said. "And I'm proud to say you won't get much from me either."
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Why don't you give me your wallet now." Tookie patted the crowbar, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Citizen Bob already had his wallet out.
"It's actually an economy billfold," he said as he gave his money to Tookie, who grunted his thanks. Citizen Bob glanced at the crowbar, then at the clock again - it had been four minutes. "Those other people you robbed, did you - ah - ?"
"Bash their brains out? Nah, they all slept through it. Lucky for them. You know, I don't want to have to kill you, cause you seem like a nice guy and all. But it's part of the job if I want to stay in business. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever. We all have to do difficult things sometimes." Ding! "Oh, your coffee's ready. Sure you don't want anything in it?"
"I'm good." Tookie stood up and got the coffee himself. He sipped it ecstatically, his eyes closing with pleasure. "Mmm. Tastes like dishwater. Thanks a bunch."
"Anytime."
"Look, as long as we're here waiting, why don't we do something fun? There's no reason to act like we're at a funeral just because I'm going to kill you."
"Great idea!" said Citizen Bob. So they danced the Macarena twice and got into a heated game of Spoons. Just as Tookie was gloating over his victory, several squad cars pulled up outside and policemen charged up to the door.
"Criminal!" one shouted through a bullhorn. "Come out with your hands high above your head and the crowbar in plain sight!"
Tookie gaped at Citizen Bob, looking wounded at the betrayal, then regained his composure and reached for the blunt object. But Citizen Bob held out his hands. "Wait, wait," he said. "Don't worry. I'll fix this." He went to the front door and opened it, beaming broadly. "Hey, guys," he said. "Thanks for showing up, but I'm afraid there's been some sort of a mistake. There's no criminal here, just my good friend Tookie."
The lead policeman scowled. "Oh, that's just bleeping terrific," he said. "You got us all the way out here for nothing."
"Oh, but I'll make it worth your while," said Citizen Bob. "I have donuts inside."
The other policemen looked up as one from whatever they had been doing. "Donuts?" they chorused.
Citizen Bob laughed, and called over his shoulder. "Warm up some more coffee, Tookie!" he said. "We're going to have a party!"
***
In a secret military base behind the swings in the park, General Stoar threw away his third bottle of whiskey and pulled at his whiskers. "I'm bored, Lieutenant," he said. "B - O - uh... well, you know, restless."
"Me too, general," said Lieutenant Snark. His eyes fell on his boss's sidearm. "Sir, I just had an idea," he said. "What say we give the civilians a little scare?"
Next: Epilogue
"Cooler heads!" snapped Citizen George. "Easy for you to talk about cooler heads! None of your close friends or relatives are lying dead in a public building, now are they?"
"Hey," Mr. President protested, "I lost plenty of re-election votes in those men."
"Oh, did you?" said Citizen George. "Well, you can take my vote and shove -"
"Please!" shouted Will through a megaphone, loudly enough to shut everyone up. "Allow Mr. President to make a speech and attempt to console your losses. It's the least he can do." The crowd grudgingly remained silent, glowering at the Prime Minister.
"Yes, thank you, Will," said Mr. President. "Look, folks, I don't blame you for being angry. I know I look calm and disaffected to you, but inside I myself am incensed that I'll have to re-evaluate my whole campaign strategy. And I'm sure your losses go even beyond that."
"Just a bit," someone groused.
"It is a tragedy, to be sure, a sheer tragedy," continued Mr. President, "whenever anyone is taken from us early - for, as we all know, there is nowhere for them to go and we will never see them again. But, for what it is worth, my heart reaches out to you. Together we will remain strong, and somehow heal, and come through this ordeal with more resolve than ever before. Thank you."
The crowd hooted and cheered. Tears of distress that had graced their eyes moments before were replaced by tears of hope.
"Wait, wait, wait," said Citizen George. "That's all wonderful, of course, but there ought to be a way to ensure this never happens again." The crowd murmured their agreement.
"Oh, indeed," said Mr. President. "An excellent proposition. Well, let's examine the facts of the matter. What, ah, were the victims shot with?"
"A gun," said Vice Prime Minister William.
"Oh, makes sense. I must have missed that part of the news release. Well, what about the fellow with the gun? What was his deal?"
"He's an aggressive, belligerent nut case," said Citizen George. "I'd seen him around town a couple times before, but I never expected him to snap like this."
"Had a history of aggression, you say?" said Mr. President. "Well, then, it seems to me we ought to enact some sort of legislation to keep guns away from those people."
"No," said Citizen George, "that won't be nearly enough. Who isn't a little angry these days? What I'm thinking is that this never would have happened if we didn't have guns. No guns, no shooting, no death. See where I'm going with this?"
"A good point," murmured Vice Prime Minister William. "It is awfully hard to shoot someone without a gun."
"Then we'll ban guns," said Mr. President. "Solves that problem. Why didn't we think of this before?"
"What about the police and the military?" someone demanded.
"What about them? Oh, yes. I suppose they ought to have guns still. Those are rather essential to their line of work."
"And they can be trusted, of course," said Vice Prime Minister William.
"That is true," said Mr. President. "All right then, just the military and police shall have guns, and no one else. All in favor?"
It was unanimous.
***
Citizen Bob had just settled down for a relaxing night's sleep when he heard a thump in the kitchen. Dreading the worst, he jumped out of bed, stubbed his toes on something, and groped for a flashlight. Then he remembered that he wasn't in the habit of leaving a flashlight by his bed, so he decided to chance the dark.
When he reached the kitchen he saw the silhouette of a man, hunched over and carrying something that looked suspiciously like the silhouette of his television. The silhouette was headed for the window but had suddenly stopped. Citizen Bob held his breath. Then he remembered that no one had guns anymore, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
The silhouette turned and saw him.
"Hi," said Citizen Bob.
"Hi," said the silhouette.
Citizen Bob found a light and switched it on. He was confronted by a dingy, unshaven man about ten years his senior, who was indeed carrying his television. "Excuse me sir," he said to the man, "but, you see, that's mine. And I..."
The man set the television on the ground and pulled a crowbar out of his pocket. "Not anymore," he said.
Citizen Bob frowned. "Are you from the bank? It's in the mail, I swear."
The man stepped closer and grinned a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol. "I ain't from no bank," he said, "but I'll take a deposit anyway."
Citizen Bob laughed. "Nice try, but no thanks."
"That wasn't a suggestion," said the man. "It was a thinly veiled threat." He peered into the next room. "Say, you got a wife or daughter around here?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Dang. Well, just the money then. Fork over everything you got and we'll forget we ever had this little encounter. Otherwise..." he eyed his crowbar. "You know," he remarked, "I liked it better when I could just wave a gun around. But that's illegal now. So unless you cooperate I'll have to bash your head in with this."
Citizen Bob thought fast. Was there any way out of this? He couldn't think of any - of course! That was it! "All right," he said, "but that TV there is actually busted. I was going to have a guy here tomorrow to fix it up."
The man snorted. "How stupid do you think I am? All right, if it's busted, show me."
Citizen Bob knelt down to the TV and pushed the "on" button. It did not turn on.
"All right, I give," said the man. "Well, what now?"
"You can't call the repairman to your hideout, and if you take the TV in yourself it could be traced back to me - "
"Wait, how?"
"Because I carved my name into the back of it. But if you'll wait just a minute, I'll call the guy and say he needs to get over here right now or you'll bash my head in. He's a good friend of mine and that should motivate him."
"Do it," said the man.
Citizen Bob pulled out his phone. "I have to go to the other end of the house to get reception," he said, and the man grunted his permission. He ran back to his bedroom, shut the door, and quickly dialed 911. The phone rang once... twice... thrice... a few more times... and a sleepy voice said, "H'llo?"
"Hello, get me the police," said Citizen Bob. "I've got a guy in my house here who's going to kill me with a crowbar if I don't give him all my money." He gave his address.
"We'll be right there," the voice promised.
Citizen Bob returned to the kitchen. "He's on his way, Mr. - uh, what's your name?"
"Tookie," said the man.
"Nice to meet you, Tookie. Can I get you something while we wait?"
"Coffee, if it's not too much trouble. I'm exhausted."
Citizen Bob hurried about getting the coffee ready, hoping Tookie couldn't hear his heart pounding. He decided to continue idle conversation. "So, how'd you get into this line of work?"
Tookie stretched his legs as he settled into a chair. "Oh, I dunno," he said. "I used to work in an aluminum factory, but I got sick of losing half my paycheck to the Feds. So I figured, hey, why don't I operate under the radar and actually keep my earnings?"
"You want cream, sugar, anything?"
"Nah, plain black is fine. I am robbing you, after all."
"Thanks." Citizen Bob glanced at the warming coffeepot, then at the clock. It had only been two minutes since he called. Easy, he told himself, no need to get anxious. "How'd you end up here?" he asked.
"People started recognizing me back on the mainland, so I got in touch with some connections, and they got me sent here. I've already robbed three people tonight, and they barely had anything. What's the matter with you people? You think having money is a crime?"
Citizen Bob self-righteously threw out his chest, his fear forgotten. "As long as there are others who don't, yes," he said. "And I'm proud to say you won't get much from me either."
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Why don't you give me your wallet now." Tookie patted the crowbar, but it was an unnecessary gesture. Citizen Bob already had his wallet out.
"It's actually an economy billfold," he said as he gave his money to Tookie, who grunted his thanks. Citizen Bob glanced at the crowbar, then at the clock again - it had been four minutes. "Those other people you robbed, did you - ah - ?"
"Bash their brains out? Nah, they all slept through it. Lucky for them. You know, I don't want to have to kill you, cause you seem like a nice guy and all. But it's part of the job if I want to stay in business. No hard feelings?"
"None whatsoever. We all have to do difficult things sometimes." Ding! "Oh, your coffee's ready. Sure you don't want anything in it?"
"I'm good." Tookie stood up and got the coffee himself. He sipped it ecstatically, his eyes closing with pleasure. "Mmm. Tastes like dishwater. Thanks a bunch."
"Anytime."
"Look, as long as we're here waiting, why don't we do something fun? There's no reason to act like we're at a funeral just because I'm going to kill you."
"Great idea!" said Citizen Bob. So they danced the Macarena twice and got into a heated game of Spoons. Just as Tookie was gloating over his victory, several squad cars pulled up outside and policemen charged up to the door.
"Criminal!" one shouted through a bullhorn. "Come out with your hands high above your head and the crowbar in plain sight!"
Tookie gaped at Citizen Bob, looking wounded at the betrayal, then regained his composure and reached for the blunt object. But Citizen Bob held out his hands. "Wait, wait," he said. "Don't worry. I'll fix this." He went to the front door and opened it, beaming broadly. "Hey, guys," he said. "Thanks for showing up, but I'm afraid there's been some sort of a mistake. There's no criminal here, just my good friend Tookie."
The lead policeman scowled. "Oh, that's just bleeping terrific," he said. "You got us all the way out here for nothing."
"Oh, but I'll make it worth your while," said Citizen Bob. "I have donuts inside."
The other policemen looked up as one from whatever they had been doing. "Donuts?" they chorused.
Citizen Bob laughed, and called over his shoulder. "Warm up some more coffee, Tookie!" he said. "We're going to have a party!"
***
In a secret military base behind the swings in the park, General Stoar threw away his third bottle of whiskey and pulled at his whiskers. "I'm bored, Lieutenant," he said. "B - O - uh... well, you know, restless."
"Me too, general," said Lieutenant Snark. His eyes fell on his boss's sidearm. "Sir, I just had an idea," he said. "What say we give the civilians a little scare?"
Next: Epilogue
