(This is part of a
short story. It is written as a script in case I talk someone into making this
into a TV special.)
To catch up click here or here
or here
or
here…or maybe here…OR...you can go to the page which has the whole story in one place. ..and
now on with the show:
By SJ Otto
It was a few days after my date with Hilda that I got a
real surprise. I was walking down the street from my house on my way to my car
when two men walked up from behind me. They walked up to my side. The two men
were wearing suits and ties, not much different from the grey and dreary suits
of the 20th and 21st centuries. They both had thin black
ties and grey shirts. They were both tall. One had a slight beard the other was
clean shaven. Both had very short hair. Suddenly when there was one on each
side, one pulled a gun out and aimed it at my gut. The other man grabbed my
arm. Then one of them flipped out his wallet.
OFFICER
REEDNICK: We’re police! Keep moving. (We
all walked to an unmarked hoover car.) Get in!
He pointed to the door. I opened it and I got in. A few
minutes later and about two miles down the road I was being whisked to an
office down a set of steps, in an old ornate municipal building. They dragged
me down some steps. Next they dragged me
into an office. There were three blue-plastic chairs, a large plastic desk and
we seemed to be in a sound proof room, painted all yellow inside.
OFFICER
REEDNICK: I’m Officer Reednick. (We all
sit down.) Let’s talk about your girl-friend Hilda. (He moved in close to me. The other man took my hand and slammed it on
the desk as hard as he could. I felt some serious pain.)
HARLEY:
OW! What is the deal here? So I went out a few times with a chicken? So what? (The two cops pulled me up, one on each side,
and walked me to the wall. Then one grabbed my head and one arm. The other
grabbed my other arm. My head was slammed against the wall, with my face being
slammed flat. They did this twice until blood was streaming from my face. Then
they took me back to the chair and sat me down.)
OFFICER
REEDNICK: We take your relationship with her very seriously. You took her to a
metal bar. We don’t like it when people like you do things like that.
HARLEY:
Are you charging me with something?
OFFICER
REEDNICK: This is an office of the secret police. We don’t charge anyone with
anything. We just take action.
HARLEY:
What laws have I broken?
OFFICER
REEDNICK: None.
HARLEY:
Then what am I doing here?
OFFICER
REEDNICK: Every once in a while we have to straighten a few of you metal
fuckers out. You think you can do anything you want. So you date a chicken.
You’re messing with our meet supply you idiot!
HARLEY: I
demand a lawyer!
OFFICER
REEDNICK: (He looked at the other man.) He wants a lawyer, Hasbrow! He thinks
he is in a regular police station. (They
both smile and start to chuckle. Hasbrow punches me in the stomach while
Officer Reednick smacks me across the face.) I don’t know if you realize
it, but if you murdered your wife, sister, girl-friend, you would get a lawyer
and a fair trial. That’s because no one really cares if you kill a relative,
except a few friends and relatives. Most of our society really don’t care if
you kill a close relative or friend. But you are messing with our meat supply.
THAT...AIN'T...GOOD! People in all walks of life depend on our supply of meat.
When chickens and metal people start hanging out together bad things can
happen. Metals start to feel sorry for chickens. They try and help the chickens
get out of their intended destiny. You get what I’m saying?!
HARLEY:
Waite a minute. Chickens never escape. Metal people never help them escape.
OFFICER
REEDNICK: And that is because of people like us.
HARLEY:
I'm beginning to understand why Hilda likes those Marxist books so well.
OFFICER
REEDNICK: Those stupid books Hilda has….
HARLEY:
But they are about revolution. There hasn’t been a revolution in over 300
years.
OFFICER REEDNICK:
And that is because people like us work day and night to make sure such things
never happen. Someday Hilda will die or grow tired of those books she has. No
matter what happens to her, we will be waiting to make sure no chicken outside
of her family ever sees those books. No one will ever see them. And no one
thinks of rebelling against the system. We make sure of that. (Officer Reednick smacks Harley again across
the face and Hasbrow smacks him again, the same way, almost simultaneous.)
There is no privacy anymore. You may think when you go in your home and
close all the windows and draw all the drapes that you are along...you're not.
Not EVER!!! We know all about you and that girl. We know everything you do.
There is no part of your affair we don’t know about. You need to think
carefully about this.
HASBROW:
We are trained to inflict severe pain without leaving any visible traces. We
can beat you senseless and the next day there are no marks. You need to break
this thing with Hilda off and soon.
When I looked into Hasbrow's eyes it looked like the dead
sea. He resembled an attack animal that had no feelings or remorse about
anything he had done nor would ever do.
OFFICER
REEDNICK: So after we are done taking you will go back to your car. You will
say nothing to no one about our little talk.
HASBROW: I inflict real pain. REAL
PAIN! Remember that!
OFFICER
REEDNICK: And that is because people like us work day and night to make sure
bad things never happen. Someday Hilda will die or grow tired of those books
she has. No matter what happens to her, we will be waiting to make sure a
chicken inside nor outside of her family never sees those books. No one will
ever see them. And no one thinks of rebelling against the system. We make sure
of that. (Officer Reednick smacks Harley
again across the face and Hasbrow smacks him again, almost simultaneous.)
We know all about you and that girl. We know everything you do. There is
no part of your affair we don’t know about. You need to think carefully about
this.
HASBROW: You
need to break this thing with Hilda off and soon.
I drove immediately over to Hilda's house. I walked up and
knocked on the door. Hilda answered.
HILDA: Come in. We are drinking grand drivers.
HARLEY: OK.
I walked in. When I
got to the table, I noticed something odd. There was already a bottle of Vodka.
There was also some Fissy Foam. Fissy Foam is a main ingredient to a grand
driver.
HARLEY: You already have a
bottle of Vodka.
HILDA: So.
HARLEY: Usually you have me
get you some.
HILDA: I have other sources than you.
(she said almost
defensively. I also noticed there was more than one glass on the table.)
HARLEY: Did you have some
friends over. I see more than one glass.
HILDA: Yes. I had a little party earlier. You need a drink. (She fixed me a drink and then handed it to
me. I took several big gulps of the drink.)
HARLEY: You'll never guess
where I was a few minutes ago.
HILDA: Where were you?
HARLEY: The police station. (She didn't seem as surprised as I thought
she would.)
HILDA: Oh.
HARLEY: They were
interested in our relationship.
HILDA: Really?! What did they say?
HARLEY: They said they know
everything. They said they don't allow relationships as ours.
HILDA: Did you believe them? (I suddenly got very drunk and very sleepy.)
HARLEY: Why would I not
believe them? (And that is the last thing
I remember at all.)
So a few minutes later
I wake up. I was drugged. I was out for I don't know how long. But my wallet was
missing. Many of my rings and metal parts were missing. I got up and looked
around. A lot of Hilda's things were gone. Not everything. But a lot of things
were gone. I looked by the door and her books were gone.
What had happened? On
the table I saw a note. It read:
Dear
Harley,
I'm sorry
to rob you like this, but it was the only way I could get an ID card and some
of the other things I will need to establish a new identity. I have a friend
who has the equipment to alter ID cards. So with that fake ID, the arm rings
you gave me and the fresh illegal tattoos I just got from an underground artist
I can leave and pass myself off as a metal woman in anther state.
With all
of this I can pass by my execution date which is scheduled some time in my late
30s. I think I have what it takes to set myself up as a real metal women,
complete with a phony past. You do realize the police still do that for people
who want to rat out organized criminals.
I wish I
could take you with me. I really enjoyed our time together. But that just won't
work. You would be an accessory to the
crime and they could punish you with death.
Anyway
this was not really about robbery. I left you your money. And if you see Reednick and Hasbrow again say goodbye for me.
love
Hilda.
PS- I changed my mind about
your money. I'm going to need all the cash I can get.
And that was it. That
was the last I ever heard from her. I didn't get mad. I was glad she got away.
I was going to miss her. But she deserved to live past 40. She was right about
the ID card. I could easily replace it. Although the government keeps coming up
with new ways to prevent IDs from being tampered with, criminals keep finding
new technology to tamper with them anyway.
That was years ago. I
have never heard from her again. I hope she got away. Sometimes I still dream
of making love to her.
The one thing she did
leave me was one of her Marxist books. I knew she liked me because she would
rather die than part with just one of those books. I found it next to her
letter. Strangely enough it was her book on Pol Pot.
So the only thing left
I have to remember her by is the book and the letter. And that was it.
The End
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