"The American Revolution - Redux" Chapter 11 - The Townhall Meeting

Chapter 11

March 5th, 2009
Harrisonburg, Virginia

     Johnnie couldn’t sleep at all that long and lonely night. He endlessly tossed and turned, anxious and troubled by what he now knew - the clear as a diamond truth. The Government, our Government had induced the financial crisis and did plan to nationalize the economy.
     He needed to do something to protect himself, he realized, terrified. He knew he could no longer trust anyone, especially the Government, as his paranoia steadily grew, like a cancer, gnawing away at his intestines. Finally dragging his tired body from his sweat-soaked bed, he stumbled to his computer and quickly and thoroughly documented everything he could remember, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
     When he was finished, he re-read what he’d written then saved this Word-formatted document onto two thumb drives, hoping, praying that soon he might be able to leave these with two trusted friends, friends who could handle the truth and know what to do with it, should anything happen to him. But who, he wondered.
     Finally, he stumbled to bed, after peering outside, scanning the darkened street for unseen spies, just in case, and managed to sleep for a few troubled hours.
     The next morning, as usual his radio clicked on at seven AM. But Johnnie was already awake, staring once again at the spinning ceiling fan, hoping the rotating blades might somehow sync his mind to a solution, any solution. But none came.
     He tried as best he could to keep it together. He went through his normal routine and while trying to browse through the day’s paper, constantly peering through his front window every time a car passed, read where there was going to be one of those town hall meetings that afternoon. He decided to attend, hoping to possibly meet someone whom he could share his terrible secret with.
     Around noon, Johnnie hopped into his Jeep, after his paranoia forced him to check beneath it, looking for a blinking tracking device or bomb he knew had been secretly planted there. Finding no such device, he made the short drive into Harrisonburg.
     Soon he was parked outside the meeting hall and this time wasn’t surprised to see the large gathering of supporters and opponents, some already beginning to argue with each other.
     He stepped down and walked inside, nervously swiveling his head from side to side, scanning for any dark sun-glass wearing men in black, the two thumb drives safely hidden away in his pants pocket.
     As he walked in he gratefully saw Pat and Sarah Henry sitting in the back, amongst a large crowd of people. Johnnie let out a deep sigh of relief, walked over and was recognized immediately by a smiling Pat.
     “Johnnie! It’s good to see you! I’m glad you could make it,” Pat said, as Johnnie immediately noticed a shabbily-dressed African-American man sitting in a wheel chair, wearing a dingy-green Army jacket, parked next to Sarah.
     “Oh Johnnie,” Pat said, seeing Johnnie notice the old wheel chair-bound vet, “this is Natty Hale.”
     “Hi Natty, you’re a veteran huh? Vietnam?” Johnnie guessed, seeing Natty’s gray electrified-looking hair and old Airborne patch sewn onto the shoulder of his weathered jacket.
     “That’s right,” Natty replied. “I’m here to protest this damned healthcare thing, damned administration.”
     “How’s that?” Johnnie asked, beginning to feel better, being among friends.
     “Shit, man look at me, all agent-oranged out, stuck in this damn wheel chair. Shit, I ain’t good for nothing no moe, living on disability. Shit, this healthcare thing’s going to kill me.”
     “What?” Johnnie exclaimed, again taking a quick look around, just in case.
     “Sho ‘nough! Government’s going to let me die, no moe treatment cause I ain’t no good no moe, can’t pay taxes see. Government’s going to let me die, moe cost effective, shit!” Natty spat out.
     “Hey Johnnie,” Pat interrupted, gesturing to another man to join them. “There’s someone here I want you to meet!”
     “Sure,” Johnnie replied, watching as the slender, bald stranger acknowledged Pat’s wave and began approaching.
     “Johnnie, I’d like you to meet Jim Madison. He’s a good friend and someone I think you should get to know.”
     “Hi Jim,” Johnnie said, extending his hand in greeting.
     “Hello Johnnie,” Jim replied, shaking Johnnie’s hand.
     “So,” Jim began, “Pat here tells me that you’re not yet convinced that the Government’s trying to take over the economy. And that their healthcare initiative is just the next step. Is that true?”
     Johnnie paused for a moment, knowing what he now knew and then said, “I’ve had a change of heart,” immediately feeling better after saying that then adding, “I thought about everything Pat told me and did some research on my own. I now believe what Pat said is true,” Johnnie replied, knowing he’d just stepped into uncharted waters, feeling very scared, yet somehow secure with these Americans.
     “Good!” Pat replied.
     “Yes, very good,” Jim also said. “Cause we’re going to need every American we can to get this thing turned around.”
     “How can we do that?” Johnnie asked.
     “We’re going to start our own political party,” Pat proudly exclaimed.
     “That’s right,” Jim concurred, running his hand over his smooth pink scalp. “We sure as hell can’t trust the Democrats anymore and the Republicans aren’t any better, what with all their sex scandals, bribes and lies.”
     “Here, here,” Pat agreed. “In fact we were just talking about that with all our friends when you arrived.”
     “That’s right,” Jim added, “the way we see it, we, the hardworking, tax paying folks of this country have no real representation, even though we’re the majority of voters.”
     “How’s that?” Johnnie asked, now sitting next to Pat and Sarah.
     “We’re mostly Independents, not registered with either party. We’re the middle majority,” Jim said.
     “Ah huh,” Pat continued. “Oh sure, when an election comes around, both parties convince us that they have our best interests at heart. But once we vote them in, they always return to their extreme bases, liberal on the left and conservative on the right; can’t trust any of them.”
     “Yeah,” Jim began, “see Johnnie, we’re the middle class, economically and politically. We’re not part of the political independent class, you know the wealthy, who don’t need anything from the Government and instead donate their money, seeking political influence and playing their little social engineering games. Hell, what’ve they got to worry about?”
     “And the dependent class?” Johnnie asked.
     “We’re not part of them either. You know, those folks who depend on all the Government programs…”
     “And becoming lazy, losing all their initiative in the process,” Pat interrupted.
     “And the size of Government too,” Sarah, tugging on Pat’s arm, added.
     Pat quickly turned and smiled at his wife and said, “That’s right honey.” Then turning back to Johnnie and continuing, “We’re also against the growing size of Government. Why just tell me one Government program they’ve run successfully, just one. And now they want to control one-sixth of the American economy? I don’t think so.”
     “And the debt man, who’s going to pay for that! Not me, and my kids ain’t either,” Natty added.
     “Sounds to me like those are all Republican values,” Johnnie commented.
     “Hell no!” Pat replied. “Those are American values. I’ve seen too many election cycles where each party promises everything, only to do nothing, no representation for us. The Republicans gave up those principles when they expanded the size of Government and increased the debt during the last administration,” Pat said, acknowledging Natty’s comment.
     “Okay, I’ll agree with that,” Johnnie said. “So what’re you going to call yourselves?”
     “We’re going to call our party the Shoehorn party, cause we’re shoehorned in the middle,” Jim explained. “You like it?”
     “Yeah, it fits,” Johnny replied, beginning to realize that these were the people he could share his secret with. “How many people have signed up so far?”
     “About a thousand,” Pat answered. “But word’s spreading quickly. We’ve got a web site and more Americans are signing up every hour! This thing’s really struck a nerve!”
     “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the loud speaker suddenly blared, “If you’d please take your seats, we’ll get started.”
     “Good, here we go with more bull shit, another lecture, like we’re children or something!” Jim leaned over to Johnnie and whispered, the harsh light reflecting off his shiny head.
     As Jim leaned back, Johnnie impulsively reached into his pocket, retrieved the two thumb drives and quickly hot-potatoed them into Jim’s open hand.
     Jim looked back at Johnnie as Johnnie looked around, leaned in and whispered, “Read what’s on those, a document I wrote. It’ll help you Showhorners,” and then turned to face the announcer, feeling as if a large weight had been suddenly lifted from his shoulders.
     Jim looked down at the two drives then looked up, seeing that Johnnie was already facing forward. Jim then pushed the two memory devices into his pocket and also returned his attention to the front of the room, a quick curious look on his face.
     Everyone watched as the announcer handed the microphone to the guest speaker as the audience began to settle down, sensing the tension already beginning to invade the overcrowded meeting hall.
     The guest speaker now stood in the middle of the room and raised the silver microphone to his face.
     Tap. Tap. Tap. “Good afternoon ladies and gentleman,” the speaker began, “I’m your Democratic representative…”
     “Boo! Nazi…”
     “… Ben Arnold…”
     “Boo! He’s a traitor!” roared from the audience, before a background of clapping hands.
     “Now people, we want a civilized discussion here today,”
     “Yeah! Go get’em Slappy!” someone yelled, knowing his nickname.
     “Today, I’m here to explain the President’s healthcare plan…”
     “Hang him!”
     “Recently there’s been a lot of misinformation offered by my Republican counterparts…”
     “Yeah! Nazi bastards!”
     “…and I’m here to set the record straight,” Representative Arnold continued, raising his voice, trying to cut through all the heckling.
     “Hi,” Johnnie suddenly heard and looking up, saw a beautiful African-American woman.
     “Ah, hi,” he replied, sitting up.
     “I’m Benjamina Church. We met at the Tea Party,” she said, dropping a shoulder and making eye contact.
     “Yes, yes, how are you?” he stammered, suddenly tuning out all the catcalls, mesmerized by the stunningly-sexy woman standing in front of him.
     “May I sit down?”
     “Of course, be my guest,” he replied, already subconsciously undressing her; feeling slightly guilty.
     “You’re Johnnie Dough right? I’d never forget you,” Benjamina said, sitting, accidentally brushing her shoulder against his upper arm. “So, what’s happening here? Anyone get thrown out yet?”
     “No,” Johnnie replied, smiling, still mentally undressing her, “not yet, but it’s still early.”
     Benjamina lyrically laughed and settled back to listen, her shoulder slightly touching his.
     “…and I can assure you there are no so-called death panels. All we’re talking about is end-of-life counseling…”
     “Communist!”
     “So you can save money by pulling the plug on grandma?”
     “Shut up you pig!” a sweet old blue-haired lady screamed, the plastic flowers in her hat, violently vibrating back and forth as if caught in a gust of wind.
     “Jeez, what do you think of this?” Benjamina leaned against Johnnie and asked.
     “I think I’d rather be down the street, drinking a beer,” he offered, now trying to imagine her in a teddy.
     “We should do that,” Benjamina replied, reaching out and resting her hand lightly on Johnnie’s forearm, pretending to look around.
     “… and I assure you, this is not a Government takeover…”
     “You’re a fascist!” cried a young man wearing a tee-shirt displaying a picture of the President with a Hitler-like mustache.
     “And you’re a Nazi!” the same blue-haired lady yelled back, her flowered hat sliding down to one side.
     “Fight! Fight! Fight!” someone suddenly yelled.
     Instantly everyone stood to see what was happening including Johnnie and Benjamina. But they couldn’t see anything behind the quickly sprouted forest of heads, all straining and staring in the same direction.
     “Johnnie, I’m beginning to get scared. I don’t like violence,” Benjamina now whispered, pushing her body against his.
     “Ah, don’t worry. Everything’ll be fine,” he boasted, imagining her slowly dropping one of the straps from her smooth chocolate shoulder.
     “People, people please settle down!” the congressman pleaded, as the sound of chairs crashing and bodies thumping could be heard.
     Suddenly the row of people in front of Johnnie fell backwards, as if a bulldozer had plowed its way through a rotting wooden fence, smashing everything to bits.
     Two old men, clenched in a pathetic death struggle tumbled over him, Benjamina and the others, like a bowling ball knocking down all the pins. Strike!
     Johnnie tried pushing the two drooling, sweaty, wrinkled men off him as they grabbed each other’s hair, pulling it out in gray and Grecian Formula’ed tufts.
     “Johnnie!” Benjamina screamed, trying to help him up!
     “Aaaa-Oooo!” Johnnie cried, “Damn-it, who bit my finger!”
     “Johnnie, you’re bleeding!” Benjamina yelled, seeing a bloody stump at the end of Johnnie’s hand, “Oh my God!”
     “Shit! Where’s my fucking finger!” Johnnie blasted, adrenalin pumping through his body, masking the pain.
     “He’s got it!” Pat yelled, pointing to one of the quickly-balding, scratched and bleeding old men.
     “Ee-you! It’s in his mouth!” someone else screamed and pointed.
     “Thervs youb-ite, youb Nasi,” the old man said, Johnnie’s index finger wedged between his plastic-looking teeth.
     “Give it back, you bastard!” Johnnie roared into the old man’s blood-covered face.
     Puft!
     Johnnie watched as his finger rocketed out of the old man’s mouth, propelled by the old man’s dentured-smelling breath.
     “Hey, that’s my finger!” Johnnie yelled, watching his bloody digit gracefully arch and tumble through the air, as if in slow motion, before diving onto the floor, trying to retrieve it, hearing someone yell “Fumble!” as he did.
     Quickly Johnnie grabbed his finger off the dirty floor, his hand having to quickly dart between frantic dancing feet, as the riot continued.
     Benjamina now stood over him screaming, “Get back! Get back! Can’t you see he’s hurt?”
     Then Johnnie looked up and saw Natty through a quickly closing gap in the manic crowd. Natty stared back, a look of determination in his blood-shot eyes.
     Johnnie watched as Natty leaned forward in his wheel chair and began to pump the wheels piston-like, with his glove-covered hands, picking up speed, heading straight into the melee.
     “I regret that I have only one life to give to my country!” Natty Hale screamed, barreling into the mob scene, knocking all the onlookers aside, some flying into the air only to quickly and painfully tumble back to earth, in a heap.
     Seeing their chance, Pat, Jim and the other Shoehorners immediately filled the void, making a wall around Johnnie, protecting him from the rest of the raucous crowd.
     “Benjamina,” Johnnie looked up and cried, holding a bloody stump of a finger in his hands, “get me to a hospital!”
     “Yeah baby, right away, don’t worry” she replied, looking into his eyes, as he now imagined the other strap dropping from her incredibly sexy shoulder.

* * *

     I must’ve passed out, Johnnie thought, slowly opening his eyes and realizing he was in a speeding ambulance, its siren cutting through the air. “Benjamina,” he said, looking up and seeing her beautiful brown caring eyes gazing down at him. Angelic eyes, he thought.
     “Yeah baby, I’m here,” she answered, tenderly holding his good hand. “We’re on our way to the hospital. How do you feel baby?”
     “Dizzy…”
     “Oh, that’s because they gave you a pain killer. How’s the finger?”
     “Don’t feel a thing,” Johnnie replied, beginning to giggle.
     “That’s good baby,” Benjamina warmly said, smiling her beautiful white smile.
     “Hey,” Johnnie began, feeling the buzz, “you’re one beautiful woman!”
     “Thanks baby. I think you’re a very handsome man.”
     “Hey, I want to have your baby,” Johnnie giggled.
     “But you can’t have babies,” Benjamina tenderly said.
     “Oh, oh yeah then I want you to have my baby,” Johnnie giggled again, “They’d be beautiful. What’d ya say?”
     “Let’s get you fixed up first.”
     “Hey, want to know a secret? Come here and I’ll whisper it to you,” Johnnie, raising his good hand, indicating her to come closer, asked.
     Benjamina leaned down to his face.
     Suddenly Johnnie lifted his head and kissed her full lips!
     “Johnnie!” Benjamina, pulling back, blushed.
     “Been wanting to do that for a long time,” Johnnie bragged, closing his eyes, resting his head and smiling.
     “Baby, tell me your secret,” Benjamina coaxed, regaining her composure, smelling her quarry. “Then we’ll see about babies.”
     “Sure gorgeous, come here,” Johnnie murmured, eyes still closed.
     Benjamina leaned closer yet again. “Tell me you’re little secret baby.”
     Johnnie opened his eyes, lifted his head and whispered, “I know how this thing all started. The Government planted a virus and wants to take over the economy. And I can prove it too, beautiful.”
     “That’s nice. You lay back and rest now. I’ll take care of everything,” she reassured him, smiling, knowing she’d just completed her mission.