There's an evil in the Forest. Nameless and dark, no one speaks of it openly but rather in whispers with tentative looks over the shoulder. It's as if to admit it exists is to admit one's own doom. Yes, deep within the gloomy, towering trees beats a heart of death, hungry for the souls of men...
Do you ever practice maneuvers in your home? You should. Using complete tactical precision, I slide from wall to wall, tumbling across the living room from behind the couch to the easy chair station, awaiting the movements of potential enemies. When - not if - they come, I'll be ready. Close quarters fighting, diversionary devices, cleverly concealed booby traps - I pity the storm troopers who storm me!
My TV plays an endless loop of film clips designed to keep my mind razor sharp at all times, rotating between Rambo, The Professional, Scarface, Enemy of the State and The Princess Bride. It goes something like this: "I always thought the mind was the greatest weapon"..."Is life always this bad or does it get better when you get older?" "Always this bad"..."Say hello to my little friend!"..."But if this is somebody's unilateral wet dream, that somebody is going to jail!"..."Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." "Stop saying that!"
I guess you could say being a hero just comes natural to me.
***
The Forest hides its evil well. Only the purest of hearts can pass through alive - and all must pass through. Like a spider's web, no movement is undetected, deception can lie only from within. The story is the branches grow so thick, so intermingled, sunlight never reaches the shrouded ground and in this unholy union festers a will to bend human souls...
I fasten the tripwire across the front door. If opened, the pin is pulled from a fuse-shortened grenade giving any intruders an education they'll learn only too late. On my wall a samurai sword, a 32 inch razor to slice through the foolish impudence of any adversaries. On top of the fridge - behind my oh so innocent Igloo cooler - lies my Glock, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. But the pantry holds the greatest surprise of all: an Uzi in my Cocoa Puffs. No need to add milk.
Like the world, I keep my power hidden, putting on a hypocritical display for the mindless masses. The truth suits them like a pungee stick to the eye, but a lie? The fear-filled fools will stand in line just to swallow a glimpse of paradise lost. That's my real protection; their own self-delusions keep me safe. I can hide where they dare not look in themselves. I imagine shooting the sheep with my spiritual shotgun. They never duck!
***
Ancient is the Forest, since long before man put air into his lusty lungs. Unconquerable are these musty woods for they are also the wellspring of life. "Do you have something to hide?" query the timbering giants, luring you into the "safety" of their lightless environs. My opponents reside there, planning my demise with impunity. No, the Forest cannot be beaten, only resisted.
A white car. I see it through the blinds this colorless, generic beast. Government cars aren't allowed to have personality. Two men, in suits - that's part of the act - looking official, intimidating the little people. They don't get out right away, talking to one another, making preparations, doubtless spitting on photos of me when I know they are the true traitors. What's that? An ear piece! A tactical unit must be close by! This means war!
I'm surprisingly calm - it's a relief to face the final showdown. But I'm not the willing sheep they hope I am! I institute emergency order 12, connecting my doorbell to a directional charge of C4. Yes, killing my truth will be harder than you think you moronic minions! Kiss my oppressed ass! Feel the love! Maybe next time you'll think about giving peace a chance! Die fuckers, die! Here they come to lose the day!
The takedown went something like this
***
The firefight was glorious! I made it out alive - which really pissed them off. Yeah well, fuck 'em. I made bail. But I bet they won't be sending any more census takers to my door!
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