Monday, June 11, 2007

Fixin' Things

The "terrorist" was plainly uncomfortable. Well, actually, "uncomfortable" was an understatement. The way I had him hog-tied would have challenged the comfort level of a spry young gymnast, much less this slightly pudgy forty-something asshole with a penchant for tossing garbage on my lawn.

While adjusting the gag I had on his mouth to better allow him to breath (I hadn't passed summary judgement on him yet, so it would be not be good form to have him suffocate on me before that happened), he screamed something about me "not having the right" to have him laying on my lawn trussed up like a pig, which annoyed me to no end. So, I encouraged him to get with a program of good order and discipline, much like that which they use on a regular basis at Gauntanamo, our luxury holding facility to the South. I kicked him in the ribs.

I got the gag back on him right and proper before he got loud enough to bother the neighbors. When one is enforcing actions necessary to defend one's way of life, which in my case included peace, quiet, and a litter-free lawn, one does not wish to upset the neighbors with the messy specifics of such enforcement, so I was pleased to be able to spare them the noise and quiet him down. Besides, you never know when it might turn out that one of your neighbors happens to be one of those namby-pamby, bleeding heart, squeamish people of the liberal persuasion who just can't help but to butt in and lend aid and comfort to one's enemies.

Earlier this day I had decided enough was enough and that I was not going to put up with this kind of crap anymore, nosirree! So having witnessed Bubba toss another one of his pearl beer cans over the fence onto my lawn, I went outside and invited him over to my side of the fence for another brew. Nothing works better to get an unsuspecting "terrorist" into your sights than false pretenses that include an alcoholic beverage on a hot, humid day, let me tell ya. So, Bubba, he walks around the fence, all prepared to reach out for a neighborly brewski, and that's when I nail him across the side of the head with the six pack; the six pack of Miller Light, that is, not that cheap redneck shit he likes to drink.

He went down like the proper overweight, out of shape terrorist he was, much akin to the landing of a ton of bricks. Having caught him by surprise, off guard, and unprepared for flight or fight should he catch on to the truth of the invitation, I whipped out the plastic zip ties I usually used to attach things around the house and bound him up nice and helpless like, before he could come back to his lack of senses. The fear and fury in his eyes was something to behold as I kneeled down and read him the charges, as I made them up on the spot, of course.

"Asshole, you are hereby declared, having been judged quite able to take a swing at me had I given you the chance, to be an "illegal combatant", that being because I do NOT consider it legal for you of all people to lay a fucking finger on me when it was YOU, Asshole, who has been littering MY lawn with your fucking beer cans! Therefore, deciding that people like YOU make life for people like ME to damn miserable for people like ME to afford dickweeds like YOU the opportunity to defend yourself, perhaps weaseling out of trouble with the assistance of some ambulance chaser and a liberal, bleeding heart judge, I hereby circumvent all that bothersome bullshit and pronounce you guilty of being a fucking ASSHOLE, a crime for which the punishment is me kicking your ass all over this nice lawn of mine, and then taking your bruised and purple carcass out to the dump and leaving it there where it belongs! Do you want to bother to plead, because, honestly, I don't GIVE a rat's ass what you have to say concerning your guilt, your innocence, or how sorry your SORRY FUCKING ASS is about littering my lawn!"

Man, did that feel GOOD! I have seen many the Rambo movie and let me tell ya, my fellow Americans, none of those scenes of commies getting mowed down by the hundreds came close to the exhilaration I felt taking the law into my hands the way our President did in order to take the war to those scum terrorists! Nothing pisses off a patriotic American more than having the Supreme Court and it's criminal comforting pack of pussies muzzle our fighting men when all they want to do is keep America safe for Mom's apple pie and the Beaver! We simply cannot have all this jurist prudence getting in the way when we have terrorists blowing up planes with bottles of Listerene, of all things!

So, following the example set by our great President, I wrapped Bubba up in an old tarp I kept the lawn mower covered up with, and hauled him off to the dump as promised, before the wife got home. You see, the wife has this delicate disposition, and gets kind of upset when she sees ME get upset and do what has to be done, like the time I knocked that paperboy off his bike for breaking my window with the newspaper, making me think the terrorists where driving down my street shooting up the neighborhood. Having to deal with the kid's father was distasteful, to say the least, especially since he was of the insane opinion that I had responded in a manner excessive to the crime and threatened to sue me for my public service. So, I try and do what one must do when the wife is not around, as not to upset her, much like the CIA does with it's extra-ordinary rendition at it's secret prisons. I tend to be considerate that way; not that I have to be.

If Bubba ever extricates himself from his unpleasant situation before getting buried in garbage, I hope he learned his lesson and repents his behavior, coming to God and thus becoming a much better citizen. As for me, I'm sitting here on my front porch, reading the paper, and fuming at all these defeats the administration is suffering at the hands of the federal and supreme courts when it comes to it's war on terror and the methods it must turn to to keep us all free and our gas tanks full. I have my blood pressure medicine, so I should be OK. After all, I still have, what, a year and a half of safety, being protected from arabs and liberals by our great leader and good Christian patriot, George DUBYA Bush. After that I guess I'll just go back on the prozak.*






Folks, the what you just read was nothing more than parody, and I hope to Bob you would not think for one minute that THE Michael would behave in such an unsophisticated and primitive manner.




Or would he............?




Naw!



Grin..........

3 comments:

Buffalo said...

I wouldn't take book on it.

I_Wonder said...

"Jurist prudence" got me to thinking about the "prudence" in "jurisprudence" which led me to a dictionary. That's what we missing -- prudence:

1 : the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason
2 : sagacity or shrewdness in the management of affairs
3 : skill and good judgment in the use of resources

That being said, I'm glad you had the prudence to state that it was all a parody. I wouldn't want the less prudent to think it was a confession.

Steve said...

love ya !