Breakfast Vigilantes
Walter was recruiting down at the South End Diner this morning, looking for a ‘few good men’ to help him stand guard over the Army recruiting office in downtown Stanwoodopolis. The real recruiters were unarmed, he warned. “They’re completely at the mercy of any *%#@?!! jihadists! They can’t carry weapons and the *%#@#?! Government doesn’t give a damn!”
Anita, the current owner and security guard for the Diner, stepped from around the register and held up a hand in warning. “Clean up your mouth, Walter. And settle down. I don’t need a riot here this early in the morning.”
Ralph, our local wiseguy, was sitting at my table with me and Two Toke and I groaned when he turned with a smirk from his biscuits and gravy toward Walter, two tables over. “How many guns you think we’ll need, Walter? And how long will have to keep at this? I mean, the War on Terror’s nearly 15 years now. You gonna stick out out 15 years?”
It was Anita’s turn to groan. “Thanks, Ralph,” she muttered and went back to the register, thought better of it and headed for the kitchen to confer with Big Larry on the grill, her own brand of recruitment.
“Gonna take as long as it takes, Ralph. Gonna take ALL of us to protect the Homeland, that’s what it takes. Who’s in?” he asked us assembled freedom-loving breakfasteers. “Jimmy, how ‘bout it? Fred? You in?” Jimmy and Fred studied their coffee mugs with an intensity usually reserved for roadside wrecks.
“Apathy!” Walter shouted, his face red. “Apathy’s what kills!” Ralph chuckled. “I thought it was guns, Walter. You know what they say, when apathy’s outlawed, only ….”
Ralph sensed Big Larry’s shadow suddenly looming over our table and shut up mid-sentence. “Walter,” Big Larry growled, ignoring Ralph who was hunching himself into a small inconspicuous persona non gratis, “we ALL need protecting. We just don’t need yours. You vigilantes want to start a war, take it somewhere else. Don’t be messin’ around here.”
Walter stared into the greasy spatula Larry pointed at him, started to speak, then thought better of it. “Okay, Larry, okay.” I think we all knew, even Walter, the Diner wouldn’t be needing outside protection and God help any jihadists who ran into Big Larry.
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