Two narrowed eyes peeked out of the slats over the window that were already narrow enough by themselves. They gazed imperturbably at the scores of police and FBI agents that surrounded the NRA ranch estate in North Carolina. Those eyes belong to Wayne LaPierre, the once clean cut, All American holy saint of the National Rifle Association — now disheveled, grizzled, crazed and no longer mincing words.
“Damn goose-stepping thugs! I always knew whose side they would be on when the end came!” he spat. As almost an afterthought, he muttered, “And those guns they are using are the Borazzy N380 Assault Rifles that we did a special on in the last magazine. How ironic.”
“What do you expect, you Nazi?” hissed his hostage, America. Dressed in her traditional robes but minus her torch and book, as depicted by the Statue of Liberty, she none the less had managed to keep her crown on her head. “You took me — the symbol of Freedom in the world — hostage, and expect them to do nothing?”
His face contorted with anger, LaPierre pushed her rudely against the wall and put the Stanzer Midnight Special up to her temple where all 12 bullets in the chamber could make a permanent impression on her consciousness in less than 24 seconds.
“I expect you to do whatever I tell you to, missy! I am the boss here. You will do as I say…” his eyes took on a demoniacal, demented look, “or else!” He corkscrewed the barrel against her temple to enhance his words.
Lady Liberty was made of tougher stuff. “You’ve already ravished me politically and sought to control the entire nation through your rhetoric, your tricks and your guns. What more do you want?”
LaPierre shot her a dead level glare. “I want to be Emperor!”
“We don’t have Emperors in this country!” she cried.
“Now there will be!” sneered LaPierre. “The time for this pretense of ‘Democracy’ is over! We need a powerful hand to run the country and to tell people what they are supposed to think and believe! Chairman Mao once said ‘Government comes out of the barrel of a gun.’ How right he was!”
A shocked America hissed “You are a Fascist!”
“Of course, baby! What did you think? We wrapped ourselves in the red, white and blue flag to get people behind us. It looks like it worked! Now we are so far ahead we don’t need them or the flag anymore!”
Miss America still had a hardness and rebellion in her face and voice. “They will not let you get away with this you know! America is owned by the common people. Even now law enforcement agencies are circling the place waiting for you!”
“Hah! We have so brainwashed the American people that we have them believing that we are bigger and more righteous than the government. Why do do think we spent so much money on psychological techniques and advertising to get them to think that we are more American than the U.S. government and that everyone right down to two year olds should have a gun? And convinced them that no matter how many bodies lie splattered in shopping malls, grade schools and colleges across the country that it is vital that anybody should be able to buy a gun any time or place he wants in any lethal capacity that he so desires? That took a lot of work, honey, and I ain’t about to give it up for a bitch like you!” He slapped her with his open palm.
Her brave front cracked. The great symbol of a great nation buried her face in her tied hands. “You used me!” she sobbed.
“That is right, baby!” sneered LaPierre maliciously. He put his hands on her shoulders sensuously, provocatively. “You were real good for us in the beginning, honey. So many people believed in you when we started — that you were righteous and great, an independent beacon of hope and freedom in a dark world. You were the ideal for a nation on a planet where the norm for most countries was poverty, despair and war. Yeah, you were just too tempting to resist.”
He puts his lips close to hers. She freezes up. “We just couldn’t let you go by.” His lips part slightly and gets closer to hers. America’s whole body stiffens up in revulsion. “Yeah, you were just too hot to let slip, baby. We needed you to make us look good.” Just as his lips are about to touch hers, he stops. The insinuating tone in his voice changes. “But we don’t need you anymore now!” He laughs cruelly and pushes her to the floor. She starts to cry.
“You were fun for a while honey, but now you are old fish bait. We don’t need you any more. We’ve got better games to play!” He laughs maniacally as she sobs. “You are washed up. We are now the King of the Hill!”
“LaPierre! Give yourself up! We have you surrounded!” sounded a bullhorned voice from outside.
LaPierre shatters a corner of a window and shoots off 30 rounds in only 3.42 seconds. “Never coppers! You’ll have to pry this Kalashnikov out of my cold dead hands!” He then fires off another 40 rounds in 4.1 seconds.
“Remember who supplies you your weapons, you jack booted fascists! The gun manufactures we represent! Do you think they didn’t see this day coming? Who do you think they supplied with guns that won’t malfunction and bullets that won’t veer the wrong way? Me or you?”
Demonic laughter could be heard coming from the building he was holed up in as he pumped round after round out at the officers surrounding him.
“I’m goin’ down in a blaze of glory, pigs, and I’m taking America with me!” shrieked Pierre before a blistering hail of bullets overpowered his voice.
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