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Hostage

June 1, 2018

“I’ll do it, people. Don’t think I won’t do it.

“All I’m saying is, I want, somewhere in the chain, preferably handing it to me, a goddam human being! I want to see a face. Not a robot face or a picture of a face, but a real, live human face.”

He pointed it quickly in another direction, which caused a few gasps from the crowd.

“And I want my cheeseburger to taste good. Doesn’t always have to be perfect! That’s what makes a perfect one special.

“But paid human beings will by God hand it to me…or else.”

A Native American man in his 70s had watched the entire tirade and display seemingly dispassionately. He decided to speak when the madman took a break from ranting.

“You are aware that you are holding a banana, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes I am. And don’t think I won’t…”

He pulled from the bottom and stuffed two-thirds of it into his mouth.

“Doh thig I woan!” he blurted with a mouthful.

He crammed the last of the banana in his mouth, stared the Native Man in the eyes. He then held up the empty peel in the air between them. And he dropped it on the tile floor of the fast food restaurant.

“Doan twip!”

The Native man looked at him for a moment. Then he sighed and picked it up and placed it in the trash can. Then he returned to his seat as the crowd applauded and cheered.

“Sir. Your order is ready,” a pretty young woman said from behind the counter.

“Oh…thag yoo. Thag yoo vewy mush.”

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From → Gonzo, Short Story

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