Another Telling

To properly understand the gravity of the situation that Billy Jean had just undergone, it is imperative to understand one simple thing. First, let us repeat a paragraph from the last bit.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was large enough to hide even two grown men. He was thinking it was an oak but in all honesty he wouldn’t be able to tell a palm tree from pine tree. He was a red-blooded American through and through. That was his main problem.

He had many secondary problems as well. He had a family history of Diabetes and as a child he was never allowed to touch sugary food. He would lust for chocolate but it was never given to him. This made him a bitter child and somebody you'd hate to meet the day after Halloween. A more plot-relevant problem was that he had the most fantastic delusions.

A long history of sugar deprivation, child abuse, and depression had led him to severe psychological disorders. It would take quite a while to explain the inner workings, so let's cut to the chase. The man, Billy Jean, currently, thought he was a Cowboy from the 1880's on a vendetta for his deceased family. He based this all on old Western films that he saw as a child.

It would be best to start the story from the beginning then.

“Injuns.”

A ragged voice whispered under his breath. His face was sweating and greasy. Nothing in the world could tear his gaze away from the sight he was beholding.

“Them dirty injuns. Thinkin’ they can outsmart me… I’m gon’ show them rascals.”

The man stroked his gun. It was a beautiful .45 Colt Peacemaker and virtually his only source of joy. He stroked it like a lover, gentle yet firm. He held it close to him like he was a child, helpless if it weren’t for his parent. Most of all though, he was loading it like a gun, ready for the kill.

“I’m gon’ show them what for. They can’t fool me. I’m educated. They can’t fool an American,” he assured himself as he spotted a 6 year old boy wearing a smartly worn grey shirt. He shooed him quickly away. The boy ran over to his mother who was chatting away on a park bench 20 seconds away.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. It was, in fact, an oak tree. What's more, it was growing in the front yard of a prominent young businessman who was busy washing his car. A lovely red Accord that complimented his smile and stature near-perfectly.

The suburban street was filled with a tangy air of barbecue. There was a small party several houses away. Billy Jean spotted a few lawn gnomes. He eyed them shortly in awe as he mistook them for tumbleweeds. He kissed his gun's barrel while the businessman vacuumed up the trunk of his car.

The businessman's home was a nice two story home, newly built, and without blemish. Billy Jean was watching his movement's closely. He liked the horse he saw. It was still a car though but that didn't bother him a bit as he plotted how he'd snatch it from his enemy's hold.

He aimed his revolver with a steady hand and shot. A deafening crack rang out and as did a scream. The bullet hit the businessman’s shoulder and he was writhing with pain on the dusty ground. The gunshot rang throughout the block. A man from the barbecue ran out to see what was going on and just as quickly called the police on his phone. The women and children at the park were running to their own homes in fear.

“Dirty Redskin! That’ll learn ya to mess with Buckin’ Billy Jean!” said the man in triumph. He was running towards the downed man ready for the kill. He aimed his gun again but at point black range. He slowly put it down after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m better ‘n you. I won’t kill ya and dirty my bullets.” Buckin’ Billy Jean thought this was a rather noble line as he mounted his new found horse. “I’m a good soul and may God in heav’n have mercy on yer soul.”

The key was in the man's pocket and Billy Jean grabbed a hold of them. It's quite amazing that his body didn't follow his mind completely, otherwise he'd be whipping a car to go. What was even more amazing was that he got this far without being too closely noticed by any bystanders. Most likely they thought he was a bum and should be left alone.

The sound of several sirens filled the air as two patrol cars rushed down the street towards Billy Jean. He was already speeding down the suburbs at freeway speeds.

“Dirty cheats.” He whispered to himself as he looked towards the patrol cars and suddenly spun out as he hit a spiked strip of road.

He jumped out of the car. He was surrounded by 4 policemen. They approached him carefully, calling him to assume the position and surrender. Billy Jean heard gibberish. He was waving his revolver around and the officers knew they couldn't risk any civilian injury. One lunged at him from the side and fired off a taser. A quick buzz ran through Billy Jean.

“YA DIRTY REDSKINS WILL NEVER BREAK OLE BUCKIN’ BILLY JEAN!” screamed the psychotic man as the officers shot off another taser to subdue the criminal.

It wasn't exactly great but I think it was an alright job. I have another post after this for some thoughts running in my head. Most likely.