Scouts Go Hunting
Everyone focused on the parking lot, eagerly anticipating a fun evening. Then… disaster! Six campus “Activists” started to form a random protest. Oh no!
University students are so well trained that protests spontaneously generate in their vicinity. On any given day, in any given place, there was a good chance you’d find a cluster of them marching around bitching. Unfortunately, a protest here and now would blow the whole thing! As they strutted and preened, surely scaring any drug dealers in sight, everyone was at a loss. What to do? One protester was black, two were gay, two were stoned, and the last was the Mayor’s daughter. The assembled forces, which the protesters hadn’t noticed, were sufficient to invade a small nation but if they busted the protest up, things would get worse. There’s nothing a college protester likes more than being oppressed. As sure as night follows day, one of the protesters would claim to have a hangnail due to police brutality, the press would fan the flames, and shit would go exponential. By midnight Portland would be aflame. If that happened, nobody would get to shoot the drug dealer!
The vacuum of leadership was about to bring the whole thing down when the Boy Scouts attacked. They swarmed like wolves taking out helpless deer stranded on an iced lake. The activists, weak underfed vegans with the muscle tone of tofu, were no match for boys (and 1/3 girls) who’d just been rejected by the opposite sex. The Scouts darted in silently, taking out protesters at the knees. It was a sight to behold. The Scouts were relentless, efficient, and fast. The confused activists, who’d trained up on fat disinterested inner city cops, never had a chance. As they pivoted their assailants, faster and smarter, were always behind them. Bam, bam, bam. In just a few minutes, all six protesters fell. They were dragged away into the brush with a speed that would make any predator grin.
Nobody knew what the Scouts did with them. For all anyone knew, they’d crammed the protesters in the crotch of a tree; like lions stashing a felled gazelle. Nobody was particularly worried, there were plenty of protester on campus. The Scouts wouldn’t deplete the supply. Some of the National Guard, proud of America’s youth, passed out military grade folding chairs to the scouts. The chairs cost $12 at WalMart or $273 through military procurement. The kids were beaming. What a great outing!
High above, an NSA drone hovered, recording the whole thing. The Analyst had declared the situation a complete goat rope but at the prompting of the Extreme Greeters he’d dispatched a drone for monitoring purposes. It was movie night and they agreed that there’s no show better than watching justice unfold! Like the kids at the Chemistry lab, they’d made popcorn. They settled in in comfy seats arranged around the control center’s largest computer monitor.
The Cigarette Smoking Man glided in silently and whispered in the analyst’s ear. “Recruit those Scouts.” Then, like mist in the dark, he was gone.
The campus police missed the whole thing. They were in the Arena getting ready to watch the big fight.
Weapons were loaded, ballistic plates were donned, and helmet straps cinched tight. Everyone was ready.
Off in the distance, the booming voice of the Arena’s PA system: “Ladies and gentlemen. Brought to you by a joint production of RedBull, Gold’s Gym, and your inflated student activities fees… Your University, the greatest institution of higher learning in a ten mile radius, brings to you ‘Slaughter at Sunset’!” The crowd in the auditorium went wild. Outside everyone beamed and rechecked the safeties on their rifle for the fifty third time. “Here’s the main event you’ve been waiting for…”
The rest was rendered inaudible by the roar of a ridiculously oversized truck on even more ridiculous tires driving overland; straight across the campus. Ed, the Department of Natural Resources’ greatest wizard of asset forfeiture, knew how to make an entrance. Plus, roads were for squares. In the cab with him, bouncing about like pebbles in a blender, was the staff of the Tri-county, Anti-drug, Community Interdiction, Special Programs, Environmental Task Force Team, Pilot Project. Ed wheeled the beast around in a pivot that practically crushed the overworked lifted suspension and screeched to a halt, trailer facing the Audi, just inches from the MRAP. The 4×4 guys cheered and started swarming all over the gaudy truck. Meanwhile, Ed and his two buddies were busily unwrapping the piece de resistance.