By Bob Senitram
Thinking up the nonsense…I think…
In a peaceful Tennessee home sits 90 year old man, drinking a nice cup of caffeine free tea while flipping thru his high school year book from 19-somthing-or-another.
He comes to the picture of one of his friends who has long since passed.
“Look at that, dead for 30 years. Heart attack, damn.”
He reads the writing beneath the picture.
“To my pal Jack, a fellow always willing to lend a helping HAND! Ha-ha!”
He stares at it.
“Asshole.”
He slams the yearbook shut.
BOOM!
The front door explodes inward.
Before Jack can react, a SWAT officer crashes through the living-room window, rolls across the carpet, comes to his feet and points his rifle directly at Jack’s head.
Jack slowly rises from his chair.
“What the…”
He clutches his chest and collapses.
The Warden enters surrounded by SWAT officers. He walks over to Jack and gives him a gentle kick in the head.
“Get up, Hopalong. You’re not fooling anybody.”
One of the officers kneels beside Jack and checks his pulse.
“I don’t think this is Hopalong, sir. He’s dead.”
The Warden sighs.
“Well, that complicates things.”
Meanwhile, back at Hopalong’s House, Bob drives up, gets out of his car only to see Jennifer outside playing with Hopalong’s dog.
He pulls out his gun and approaches slowly just like in the movies.
“Hey you!”
Jennifer looks up.
“This is Special Field Agent Senitram. Are you…?”
“Yup. Jennifer. Are you with the police?
“FBI.” Bob lowers the gun.
“Oh, good.”
Bob holsters his weapon.
“You okay?’
“Sure, I’m fine! Never been better…”
“Hector said Hopalong would try to cure your…misso-misso…”
“Misophonia?”
“Yeah, that.”
“No problem with that anymore, who’s Hopalong?”
“The guy who’s held you captive.”
“Oh, you mean Stephen.” Jennifer goes back to playing with the dog.
“So the misso-flobia-itis is fine?”
“Yeah.” Jennifer throws a ball for the dog to fetch.
“And you’re no longer being held against your will? Is he, like, your boyfriend now?”
“Eww, gross! No way. But yes, I was held captive. Once I was cured I just stuck around.
“So where’s Hopalong, I mean Stephen?”
“Oh, he’s inside with some guy.” Jennifer answered.
Bob pulled out his gun again, “Stay back, Hopalong is dangerous.”
Jennifer takes the ball from the dogs mouth and throws it again and the dog takes off. “Oh, he’s not so bad anymore. Yeah, he seemed pretty creepy at first. But after he was visited by The Spamrider he seemed almost normal. I don’t think you really need a gun.”
Bob holsters it again, “happiness only comes from a warm gun anyways.”
He pauses.
“Wait, Spamrider?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And this… Spamrider did what?”
“Watched a hambone video. They laughed and lauged. Stephen was different after that. He’s from outer-space, ya know. Well, I think he is.”
“Stephen’s from outer space?” Bob asked.
“No, Spamrider.”
“So Stephen’s inside with the Spamrider?”
“No, Spamrider left. He just…vanished.”
The front door of the house burst open.
Jennifer turned her head in surprise, “What the…?”
Bob turned, “What the..?”
The dog turned his head, “What-wha…?”
Bob looks at the dog. “Did that dog just say something?”
Jennifer gets defensive. “No.”
The dog stares at Bob.
“Spamrider’s work?” Bob asks.
Jennifer shrugs
“Yeah.”
AND NOW YOU KNOW!!!
Because everything has to come to an end…
Song in my head:
COMING NEXT: Just who is with Stephen?
Crap Considered is posted each Friday.
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