An Army of One
The bloody ATF agents bumped me around in their paddywagon for a while and then stopped by some federal installation and threw me into a holding cell. I collapsed like the 2007 Mets and fell to the ground. I started wining like a little baby, and then one of the interrogators came in- he looked liked like a young version of David Caruso.
"I loved you in Blue." I said.
"Fuck your mother!" yelled the Caruso lookalike, as he slapped me across the face.
Then he threw me up against a wall and strapped me into some sort of electric chair. "I hope you like pain, McStallen. Because you are going to be in a world of pain, McStallen, a world of pain." he said laughing gleefully as he walked out.
Well I was in a bit of a tight spot- trapped in a remote, heavily guarded federal compound in America's Pacific Northwest- strapped into some torture chair, waiting for some flunkee interrogator to return- but I hung in there- because that's what you have to do when you find yourself caught in the middle of a vicious cockfight.
Sometime later a young man came down with some food for me. He was visibly retarded, so I started laughing at him. He didn't get the joke. It was only moderate retardation, but it was still pretty damn funny.
"Here's your food, McStallen." he said.
This was my lucky break- the government, showing a sign of weakness, had foolishly employed a stupid retard and charged him with the simple task of bringing food to inmates.
The retard was ripe to be taken advantage of, as are all retards. And blind people too- I'm not sure if they count as retards- but you can take advantage of them, just the same. Hide stuff from them- rearrange the room- leave buckets of paint on the tops of doors and that way when they open the door the paint comes down on them- that sort of thing. Real funny. But anyway, like I was saying, this was my lucky break...
"What- am I on your pay no mind list, kid?" I asked the retard.
"Huh?" responded the retard.
"Where's my machine gun?" I asked the retard.
"Oh you wanted a machine gun- I thought you said you were all right." responded the retard.
"I am all right you mumblin' studderin' prick- but you ain't all right- now get me the damn machine gun!" I commanded the retard.
I was going to ask the retard to get me a shot of my favorite drink- Cosmonaut Vodka- really the only Vodka I've been able to handle since that IRA bomb took out half my colon- but I didn't want to complicate things.
So the retard stepped out for a minute and came back with an M-60 machine gun and several belts of ammunition. He undid my shackles and handed me the machine gun.
Even with the M-60, I didn't have the firepower to take on the whole compound. I figured my best course of action was to duck out the back and then return some time later with superior fire power and have it out with the confounded government. So I opened the side door and began to leave.
"Where are you going?" asked the retard.
"Shopping." I said, as I walked out the door.