The boys finally showed up four days later. Rob’s pickup, followed by a big glossy Mercedes SUV pulled into the meadow. By that time, left to stew in my own juices... suffice it to say I was hopping mad about my stolen merchandise. 2 men piled out. They announced their presence by hollering and calling my name. Suzy barked up a storm and went out to see them, and was overjoyed to find Billy. I racked the slide on my 45, put the safety on and tucked it under my jacket. Billy had sinned against me. In this business, people who steal from you HAVE to be dealt with. If you let them get away with it today, they’d eventually try and kill you tomorrow. The betrayal in it was what broke my heart. I’d known Billy since he was a kid. I loved his dad as my own. I pushed down the cold fury, and fought to control myself. Emotions can kill you at times like this. I pasted a friendly smile on my face as I poked my head out the door and hollered for them to c’mon on in.
“You guys look like shit,” I said when they’d taken off their boots and sat themselves down. Billy had bags under his eyes and looked like he was ready to fall over. Rob Bennet hadn’t shaved in days. He had a comical plastic Deputy badge pinned to his vest. The plastic Star looked like it had come from a cowboys and indians play set. Both men were strapped. “That’s exactly where Rob got it,” Billy explained. “Assuming we don’t get shot in the next couple days, we are going to have to get real badges made, and uniforms, and service letterhead for paperwork, new logos for the squad cars, etc. etc. ad nauseum. Our law enforcement is something we need to burn to the ground, and rebuild from the ground up. Just like everything else, really. There’s a half a million things that have to be done when you tear apart your country’s institutions, and then try and put them together so that they’ll work for everyone. For now, we have to be creative just to get by. When’s the last time you took a bath, Deputy Bennet? You smell like Deputy Festus…”
Rob piped up. “That could eat all your time by itself. But the country is falling apart, and everyone is losing their minds and we have our hands full just trying to keep the ordinarily law abiding people from killing each other - never mind the regular criminal element.” The men were running on fumes, sleeping in the squad cars and grabbing cat naps whenever possible. Apparently the county Reeve and the councillors were having non-stop emergency meetings and slept at their offices too. Their jobs were now essential and critical, and not just a profitable ceremonial grift. They had their own difficult internal meetings, and raucous ones on Zoom with the surrounding townships when the internet worked. The provincial govt was wondering what to do with itself after being told to FOAD by half the municipalities, and the feds hid and looked scarce, not wanting to show their faces at all in the current political climate.
I set out mugs of coffee while Jimmy ranted and blew off steam. Awhile later Rob had crossed his arms, and was snoring softly with his chin on his chest. I sat there, making the right noises as Billy talked, seemingly all ears as I sipped my coffee. Very slowly, under the table, I carefully eased my 45 out and levelled it at Billy. He continued to prattle, unaware of his impending demise. Perhaps it was better that way? He was bitching about idiot politicians and their ridiculous demands on the new police department. I was wondering how I was going to dig two graves with one arm. I didn’t want to do this, but business was business. The safety came off almost without a sound under the table. Business was business, I told myself harshly. It HAD to be done. What about the vehicles, a tiny voice inside my head asked. I’d figure it out! For fuck sakes, I raged at myself - just do it! I began my trigger squeeze… and stopped.
“Billy? Could I interrupt for a second? When the girls came out - they said you’d had to impound my merchandise and shipments…? I didn’t want to say anything… but… hell’s bells guys. I took a friggin blood bath on that. I gotta ask… what am I gonna do now?” I wanted Jimmy in the right frame of mind before I sent him to hell.
***
“Good grief, Jimmy! I nearly forgot! The friggin guns! Of course, we are gonna pay for them! I’m so sorry, I’m so far behind, I think I’m in front! Rob! Wake up, you buggardly slacker! Stay with us, here! I nearly forgot why we came out here!” Rob blearily got to his feet. “Gah! Me too… hang on Jim… I forgot it in the truck. It’s a good thing God put my balls in a bag or I’d forget them too…! I’ll be right back, guys…”
I was flustered. Carefully I let the hammer down on the pistol and slid it back into my jacket. “Those MAC-10s are great for show, Jimmy. The sight of them makes people really think twice about starting something with the folks that have them. Did you hear? We had some fuggin indians off the rez pop in on a council meeting last week - with a duffel full of guns. They were drunk or higher than kites, but they still could have done some real damage. But Ol’ Willy the security guard nearly cut one in half and put 5 in the chest of the other! He just hosed them with the little sub gun and they were done like dinner! And then he was out of ammo! Those little guns chew through their ammo way too fast…”
“Put them on semi auto, you putz,” I said. My mind was in turmoil. I thought these guys were going to hose me on my business dealings.
“Wait. What? Those things fire on semi auto? How?” I got up, went over to my desk and hauled mine out. I paused… and deliberately pulled the 45 pistol out, and firmly set it on the desk. This wasn’t business. These were my friends, maybe even my family. They weren’t businessmen, some of ‘em weren’t even cops… and everyone was in over their heads. I cleared the sub machine gun and took it over to Billy and showed him the three position selector safety.
“Well I’ll be gawddamed,” Billy marvelled, “Hey Rob! C’mere! You gotta see this!” Rob came over, threw a heavy sack on the table. “There’s your fee, Jim.” Then he and Billy played with the sub gun while I dismally regarded the sack. “What’s this, you clowns? Pennies? Nickels and dimes? I’d shoot you, but your generosity overwhelms me…” Maybe there was enough in there for a sack of dog kibble, I thought. It is what it is. “What’d you mutts do? Knock off a bubblegum machine?”
“How about krugerrands, maple leafs, and gold eagles, dipshit?” Jimmy replied. I reached out and peered into the sack.
Gold.
“Good heavens, Mr. Bennet.” I gasped. “There has to be over a half million dollars here…”. In gold… I’d never seen that much in one place. “What was it Rob? $615k and change American as of yesterdays spot price…? Who knows? With the Canadian dollar collapsing and gold prices going through the roof, who knows what it is today? Be happy, Jimmy - you’re a wealthy man, provided you don’t get stupid…” Rob smirked. “Don’t count it here, Jimmy - and for gawdsakes don’t flash it around…” he said, doing a horrible imitation of me. They both hooted in laughter, impressed with Rob’s wit.
After they settled, Billy says, “Are you going to tell him, or am I?” I looked at the two comedians. I knew it! It was too good to be true! There’s always a catch with good fortune. Always! “Don’t just sit there you cretins! Out with it! What aren’t you telling me!?”
“Welll…Jimmy, don’t get mad…” I was livid already. “Out with it! Speak up, you fuggin-“ Rob found his courage first. “We sold your pot shipment to the First Nations for cost plus 5 percent!” I started to recalculate…that was going to put a dent in my small windfall. “They had a town hall, Jimmy,” Rob gobbled in dismay, “They made pot illegal again within county limits. And after Willy shot those two chugs, the ones on the rez were getting bent outta shape about it, so we made the deal to kinda pacify ‘em..”
“Where’s my gun?” I asked myself, in a dazed rage. “Billy? Cost plus five?”I went on as if I were talking to an idiot (which I was), “Do you even know what my costs are? And what the margins are on weed?”
Rob threw the keys to the Benz on the table. “What’s a slightly used G Class worth? $120k U.S.? Tell you what, Jim, figure it out, and then we’ll work something out. But the Benz will cover some of it..” I did the face/palm thing. “Fuck it,” I sighed. This was business in New Canada. Suzy had her head in my lap, and I’d been absently petting her. She’d started to drool, and she soaked my lap. I looked like I’d pished myself.
“Where did you guys get the gold,” I asked, not really wanting to know. “Darren Greene at the bank helped us with that,” Rob said grimly. “He sends his regards.” Now it made sense. “Let me guess,” I said, “that’s his Benz? How is Mr. Greene these days!”
“Don’t ask” Billy replied. “This is the part where we all live happily ever after. You don’t want to spoil that, do ya Jim?”
***
I was alright, I suppose. In any deal, you always left a little money on the table. Or at least, I did. A crumb or a bone will do, it’s a gesture of good will to your client, and an invitation to do business again. I’ve seen great deals blown by millionaires fighting over nickels and dimes, and I wondered about that. Maybe they got to be millionaires by starting wars over pocket change? I was no millionaire; so whadda I know? I confiscated Suzy on top of the money and the Benz and called everything square.
But after all that, the boys read me the riot act. Long story short…I was done. Finished, retired. The township and county were hellbent in establishing and maintaining some kind of order. All crime, even petty crime - was drawing heavy punishments as examples were made. My options were either to get out of town, or run increasingly dire risks on my future, or hunker down until some kind of sanity was restored. On impulse I bought the parcel of land I was hiding out on. The sea can got insulated and some minor upgrades. The rustic life and quiet appealed to me and it was a great place for me to heal while my country tried to do the same. For a guy without a family, it made an excellent place to retire. I could live in my version of prosperity and opulence. On some level I knew I’d made a good deal - by my reckoning.
I suppose part of that was figuring out what exactly prosperity is? Is it driving around in a posh Mercedes? Or living in a sea can out in the woods without indoor plumbing? And what was that prosperity worth? What cost, what sacrifices? A lot of folks can’t answer questions like that - but I can, now.
Then I started thinking about that. Everything always makes perfect sense to the human animal, even when you’re trapped in an artificially inflated and warped bubble of stupidity like we had been for the last little while. It all made perfect sense for Turdo La Doo to essentially destroy his country’s prosperity with a fake pandemic. Each step was more ridiculous than the last, with obvious, painful consequences… but our leaders just kept going, trapped in a game nobody but them wanted to play. What was it the wanks used to say? ‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes?’ I wonder what was going through the man’s head now? He hadn’t been seen in weeks. If he ever turned up he was liable to get shot. There is no doubt in my mind that he fully deserved it. But… I had started playing the Fools Game too. When a legitimate career became too hard… I got into underground economies, black markets, and I partnered up with criminals that made Turdo look like a saint. The argument could be made that I was even worse than Justin was: I knew exactly what I was doing. I killed people in the course of my career, and it made the same perfect sense that Turdo’s power grabs did. They were trying to kill me, and I’m sure that killing me made perfect sense to them. I nearly killed two men today who essentially were the best friends you could ask for, one was almost a brother. It made perfect sense for Officer Friendly to snap my fingers and break my collar bone. It made perfect sense for Darren Greene to use his bank to impoverish others and enrich himself. His victimization of people was no different than mine. Unlike him, or Turdo, I had a chance now to get out of the fool’s game and live in prosperity. The only thing that made sense in the Fool’s Game was not to play, or get the hell out when the getting is good.
I came back to myself with a start. I’d flopped down in my easy chair to take a break and ended up wool gathering instead. Suzy had her head in my lap, a fatally chewed tennis ball in her mouth. Her eyes were closed as I absently petted her. My pants were covered in mucous and drool. I had gotten slimed again. I gently shook the dog’s head. “Wanna play ball and go for a quick walk, Suze?” Outside the fall sunshine and glorious coloured leaves beckoned.
Humans may not be able to play the Fool’s Game, but dogs could, and the could win every single time too. I pray my country can in time too.
***
GAH. Good lord, that sucked! And that ending… I don’t think that could be any lamer if I broke its legs with a sledge hammer! And - I’m sorry guys, but… no refunds! It’s all inspired by the idea of the Fool’s Game. To win, you have to realize you’re playing - and then you have to get out! To do that, you have to be able to pull your head out of your ass. Then you have to convince the other other human ostriches in the game to do the same. I can barely handle the first part. I look at our kids, and they can’t afford to buy homes and start families anymore. Their govt is flooding the country with human trash from the third world to replace them, and the kids have to support the “new Canadian families” that are replacing them. On top of that, they have to support the pish retirement of their elders. And the endless govt grifters at the trough. The welfare bums. It all adds up. And of course, It’s more important for our gubbimint to be vibrant and diverse and politically correct than it is to be successful and look after their people and customers. Doing that is racist. Disagreeing with them is racist. We are trapped in what the NRx guys call a purity spiral. We must all now be more devout and holy than the Pope - or we’ll be cancelled and ‘unpersoned’. When your “pope” is a moronic child like Justin Turdo, and your “clergy” is clogged with morons just like him… things can only end one way. I feel sorry for Justin, actually. He’s been pressed into a position to bear loads he was never fit to carry - put there by men that aren’t fit to shine shoes or clean spittoons in a cat house.
That karmic wheel goes round and round, and we delight when we see guys like Justin get crushed when the stuff they sent around comes around to squash them like bugs. But… we can get focused on that, and not see when that wheel comes bearing down on us. Yes, maybe I speak from experience on that one. Maybe it would be a good day to put something good on the wheel and send it round?
Sorry again about that stinker of a short story. As always, thanks for dropping in, and have yourselves a great Sunday.
Cheers!
Filthie
