An Entrepreneur's Guide to Social Activism
I ain't a political man, but I voted last election time, and I got to say now I wonder what the hell for. I voted for Mr. bush but for all he's done for me, I might as well have voted for the other one, the Democrat. Somebody was lyin' about what that Mr. Bush was all about. I saw Rosie on that daytime TV show she used to do, and she was SURE Bush was going to put a stop to abortion. Oh well, maybe somebody was lyin' to her too. The point is, I can't just sit around and wait for the world to come right, I got to be a man and take things into my own hands.
When I realized action was required I said to myself, "don't be rash now, there's a right way and a wrong way to do a thing." I ain't stupid, and I ain't looking to get executed like that fool that shot the doctor down in Florida. I got my own business and some big plans, and I'm not gonna just throw it all away. My brother, Bill, says the day is coming when the people will see that we don't need no Federal government tellin' us what to do, and that the true Americans are the ones followin' in the footsteps of the foundin' fathers and armin' themselves against all tyrants. Now he's right about the foundin' fathers and tyrants and such, but his brand of patriotism involves campin' out with hillbilly biker boys, gettin' drunk and shootin' guns in the woods. That's not my style.
Forget the guns for a second. Look at the Unabomber. That guy sent bombs through the US mail! I say that's gettin' your dollar's worth out of those damn postage rates! They didn't catch him for years, and they probably never would have if the dummy had quit while he was ahead. Anthrax is a risky deal, and you wouldn't catch me within 50 feet of the stuff, but you got to give credit to that antrhax guy. He had the brains to lay low, and he's walkin' around a free man today because of it.
Yeah, anthrax ain't an option, but I got some experience with explosives. I've made a potato gun or two in my time, not to mention setting off a few good firework shows with Bill in the quarry. I never built a bomb, but remember those two kids in Colorado who shot up their high school? Back when that happened I heard on the news that those boys made bombs, and they learned how to do it on the internet. Now I don't think their bombs worked, but they were just kids, and I thought, "if I could learn how to make bombs, I bet they would work just fine." So I decided to get myself on the Internet.
Like I mentioned, I am a small business owner, and times are tough for small business owners. There's not enough cash left over to get that satellite dish that I want, let alone a computer. But we have a fine library down on 1st street, and they got three computers. Mrs. Engels, the one that used to be the teacher at the high school, I guess she works at the library now. She was old when I had her for English, but she's a regular hag now.
"My, my" she said when she saw me, "if it isn't Mr. Silas Miller," like I was some dummy who didn't belong in her library.
"Yes, ma'am. How are you, ma'am?"
"Oh," she smiled as if I couldn't see right through her, "I am always happy to see one of my students, Silas."
She wasn't happy to see me the day I pointed out to the whole class that the dead cat on her head was a wig. And she ain't my teacher anymore.
"I'm wonderin' if you can help me, Mrs Engels. As you might have heard, I am now the proud owner of my own business. I'm working on a strategy to improve my bottom line, and I need you to set me up in the Internet."
"Of course, Silas. I hope you find what you're looking for," she said. And I did.
I ain't gonna tell you what I learned 'cause knowledge can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, but I learned what I needed and the very next day I got to work buildin' myself a mail bomb. It was no over-night deal, and it wasn't too cheap either. Between buyin' the supplies when I had the cash to, and spendin' my off time buildin' the thing, it took me two weeks. I was pretty much holed up in my apartment that whole time. I thought about tellin' Bill what I was doin' 'cause he'd love it and I could get him to help pay for it, but Billy drinks like a fish, and I can't afford to have him spillin' his guts to that trailer trash he hangs out with.
I only needed to make one bomb, as this is a small town, and the one clinic is the only place that'll do it. I didn't even know you could get an abortion around here, seein' as I got no reason to seek that particular service, until I picked up a flyer in the men's room at the Wal-Mart a couple of years back. Somebody had left a bunch on top of the hand dryer and I picked one up, thinkin' it might be a coupon for a Wakeville Whackers ballgame. Instead of baseball I got a blurry black and white photo of what looked like baby parts lyin' next to a dumpster, and a bunch of numbers. Did you know they do 1.6 million abortions in this country a year? Well I didn't know and I'll tell you, I wasn't happy to hear it. According to that flyer, that's one out of every three kids. The back of the flyer said something about a protest planned outside of the clinic here in town.
I didn't make it to the protest because when you run your own business time is money and besides, what good has standin' around with a sign ever done anybody? But I kept that flyer, and so once I got my mail bomb ready I knew what address to mail it to. The time had finally come. I didn't go to the post office myself 'cause my Aunt Lucille works there, but in my line of work I know a lot of kids. I picked Joey.
"Joey," I said, "you look like an enterprisin' young man. How would you like to make a little cash?" Now Joey, to tell you the truth, looks about as enterprisin' as a slug, but he's got one of those faces so regular you could forget it in a second. Plus, he dont' strike me as much of a talker.
"Yes sir, sure."
"Then take this package to the Post Office today. It's an anonymous donation to a charitable cause. Do you know what that means? That means that I'm doin' soemthin' good for somebody, but it would ruin it if they knew who it was from, so you can't go tellin' anybody who you got this from, you understand?"
"Yes sir, sure."
"I knew you were the right man for the job, Joey. Now here's $20. Whatever is left after you ship this you can keep for yourself. Just make sure to get a receipt for me. I'll be out on my route until 5 tonight, but I'll try to stick around Baker's Park to make it easy for you. You understand?"
"Yes sir, sure."
An hour later Joey brought me my receipt. The bastards charged $7 to deliver that box to an address not a mile down the road, but I was feelin' good so I gave Joey a whole box of Drumsticks anyway.
Now that was yesterday, and ain't nothing happened yet, or I would have heard about it. If that package don't get delivered today I'll be tempted to go get my seven bucks back. What do those fools do all day?
But I didn't get this far being a rash man, and I'll wait as long as I have to. In fact, after the thing blows, it'll probably be a few years before I even see the results. Sure, there will be more babies bein' born right away, one more for every two if that flyer was right, but mamas don't let their babies eat ice cream, and it might be a couple of years before those kiddies start visiting my ice cream truck. I'll make it 'til then alright, and when they do start waddlin' over here with cash in their sticky, pudgy fingers it'll all be worth it. If I'm sellin' one more frozen desert product for every two that I'm sellin' now, that'll mean a 50% hike in sales, and no politician ever did that for anybody.
When I realized action was required I said to myself, "don't be rash now, there's a right way and a wrong way to do a thing." I ain't stupid, and I ain't looking to get executed like that fool that shot the doctor down in Florida. I got my own business and some big plans, and I'm not gonna just throw it all away. My brother, Bill, says the day is coming when the people will see that we don't need no Federal government tellin' us what to do, and that the true Americans are the ones followin' in the footsteps of the foundin' fathers and armin' themselves against all tyrants. Now he's right about the foundin' fathers and tyrants and such, but his brand of patriotism involves campin' out with hillbilly biker boys, gettin' drunk and shootin' guns in the woods. That's not my style.
Forget the guns for a second. Look at the Unabomber. That guy sent bombs through the US mail! I say that's gettin' your dollar's worth out of those damn postage rates! They didn't catch him for years, and they probably never would have if the dummy had quit while he was ahead. Anthrax is a risky deal, and you wouldn't catch me within 50 feet of the stuff, but you got to give credit to that antrhax guy. He had the brains to lay low, and he's walkin' around a free man today because of it.
Yeah, anthrax ain't an option, but I got some experience with explosives. I've made a potato gun or two in my time, not to mention setting off a few good firework shows with Bill in the quarry. I never built a bomb, but remember those two kids in Colorado who shot up their high school? Back when that happened I heard on the news that those boys made bombs, and they learned how to do it on the internet. Now I don't think their bombs worked, but they were just kids, and I thought, "if I could learn how to make bombs, I bet they would work just fine." So I decided to get myself on the Internet.
Like I mentioned, I am a small business owner, and times are tough for small business owners. There's not enough cash left over to get that satellite dish that I want, let alone a computer. But we have a fine library down on 1st street, and they got three computers. Mrs. Engels, the one that used to be the teacher at the high school, I guess she works at the library now. She was old when I had her for English, but she's a regular hag now.
"My, my" she said when she saw me, "if it isn't Mr. Silas Miller," like I was some dummy who didn't belong in her library.
"Yes, ma'am. How are you, ma'am?"
"Oh," she smiled as if I couldn't see right through her, "I am always happy to see one of my students, Silas."
She wasn't happy to see me the day I pointed out to the whole class that the dead cat on her head was a wig. And she ain't my teacher anymore.
"I'm wonderin' if you can help me, Mrs Engels. As you might have heard, I am now the proud owner of my own business. I'm working on a strategy to improve my bottom line, and I need you to set me up in the Internet."
"Of course, Silas. I hope you find what you're looking for," she said. And I did.
I ain't gonna tell you what I learned 'cause knowledge can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, but I learned what I needed and the very next day I got to work buildin' myself a mail bomb. It was no over-night deal, and it wasn't too cheap either. Between buyin' the supplies when I had the cash to, and spendin' my off time buildin' the thing, it took me two weeks. I was pretty much holed up in my apartment that whole time. I thought about tellin' Bill what I was doin' 'cause he'd love it and I could get him to help pay for it, but Billy drinks like a fish, and I can't afford to have him spillin' his guts to that trailer trash he hangs out with.
I only needed to make one bomb, as this is a small town, and the one clinic is the only place that'll do it. I didn't even know you could get an abortion around here, seein' as I got no reason to seek that particular service, until I picked up a flyer in the men's room at the Wal-Mart a couple of years back. Somebody had left a bunch on top of the hand dryer and I picked one up, thinkin' it might be a coupon for a Wakeville Whackers ballgame. Instead of baseball I got a blurry black and white photo of what looked like baby parts lyin' next to a dumpster, and a bunch of numbers. Did you know they do 1.6 million abortions in this country a year? Well I didn't know and I'll tell you, I wasn't happy to hear it. According to that flyer, that's one out of every three kids. The back of the flyer said something about a protest planned outside of the clinic here in town.
I didn't make it to the protest because when you run your own business time is money and besides, what good has standin' around with a sign ever done anybody? But I kept that flyer, and so once I got my mail bomb ready I knew what address to mail it to. The time had finally come. I didn't go to the post office myself 'cause my Aunt Lucille works there, but in my line of work I know a lot of kids. I picked Joey.
"Joey," I said, "you look like an enterprisin' young man. How would you like to make a little cash?" Now Joey, to tell you the truth, looks about as enterprisin' as a slug, but he's got one of those faces so regular you could forget it in a second. Plus, he dont' strike me as much of a talker.
"Yes sir, sure."
"Then take this package to the Post Office today. It's an anonymous donation to a charitable cause. Do you know what that means? That means that I'm doin' soemthin' good for somebody, but it would ruin it if they knew who it was from, so you can't go tellin' anybody who you got this from, you understand?"
"Yes sir, sure."
"I knew you were the right man for the job, Joey. Now here's $20. Whatever is left after you ship this you can keep for yourself. Just make sure to get a receipt for me. I'll be out on my route until 5 tonight, but I'll try to stick around Baker's Park to make it easy for you. You understand?"
"Yes sir, sure."
An hour later Joey brought me my receipt. The bastards charged $7 to deliver that box to an address not a mile down the road, but I was feelin' good so I gave Joey a whole box of Drumsticks anyway.
Now that was yesterday, and ain't nothing happened yet, or I would have heard about it. If that package don't get delivered today I'll be tempted to go get my seven bucks back. What do those fools do all day?
But I didn't get this far being a rash man, and I'll wait as long as I have to. In fact, after the thing blows, it'll probably be a few years before I even see the results. Sure, there will be more babies bein' born right away, one more for every two if that flyer was right, but mamas don't let their babies eat ice cream, and it might be a couple of years before those kiddies start visiting my ice cream truck. I'll make it 'til then alright, and when they do start waddlin' over here with cash in their sticky, pudgy fingers it'll all be worth it. If I'm sellin' one more frozen desert product for every two that I'm sellin' now, that'll mean a 50% hike in sales, and no politician ever did that for anybody.
posted by Kimberly Cangelosi | 2:15 PM
2 Comments:
This one was inspired by Steve Taylor's song, I Blew Up the Clinic Real Good.
The name of the narrator, Silas Miller, is a family name. I chose it because I liked the ironic similarity to the name Silas Marner, and not because this guy resembles Uncle Silas in any way.
This story was entertaining to me once I got through the offensiveness of it! I was really suprised when you wrote it for your creative writting class at ECC. I know how strongly you feel about abortion and found it interesting that you choose to write a story like this about a pro-lifer ( or what ever you would call him!) I think it is very comical and in your face! When you realize his motivation isn't driven by any morals but rather improving the bottom line! I also love the song!
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