The Feet of God

30 - YOU KNOW IT ENDS IN TEARS

Then up on the roof there arose a loud clattering noise.  It was Ma crawling out of a window onto the porch roof to get a better vantage point on the advancing citizen army.  I figured I’d best join her, although I have no reason why.

The parlor was abuzz with Reaper girls filling bottles.  The idea of the bottles being filled was unique in itself, but the smell of gasoline was unsettling and the speed with which they could complete a case of explosives was impressive.  It was almost like they had practiced this sort of thing before, and wasn’t just following instant instructions.

I grabbed a couple’a bottles and a nearby lighter and headed upstairs.  I bent in half to get through the open window and join Ma on the roof.

“Here, brought you some ammo,” I handed her a rag-stuffed bottle.

“Didn’t think to pick up one of the other kind, did you?” she raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Damn, I’m losing my mind.  I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t bother,” she tugged at the back of my shirt.  “I didn’t lose mine.  Here, have a sip.”  She pulled a bottle out of the case at her feet.  Then I noticed, the case on the left had rags stuffed in the tops, the case on the right had stoppers.  This old lady knew how to throw a range war.

I scanned the horizon as more Reaper chicks crawled out onto the roof with us.  “You got enough weapons?” I asked.

Ma glared at me.  “We’re a cult.  Of course we got weapons.  Don’t be such a newbie, you know it’s in the manual.”  She shouted into the opened window, “Keep pouring girls!”

The roar of the engines had gotten louder when, suddenly, above all else, the air was filled with the blare of trumpets.  All action froze as though everyone was caught in a trance by the approaching music.

It was Bob who broke the spell, “What’s that?”

No answer was necessary.  Humvees burst into view everywhere.  Moses’ convertible was leading the pack of vehicles as his brigade of civilian irregulars charged onto Ma’s property.  A half dozen other vehicles fanned out into a V-formation close behind.  Moses stood tall grasping onto the roll-bar like a modern-day Napoleon, equipped with speakers on either side blasting out marching songs.  The old star’s brass buttons had been shined to sparkle in the sun, and gusts of wind whipped his famous hair causing a sorta levitation effect as it parasailed above his scalp.  He rolled his Humvee to a halt in front of the house.  The engines grinded to a halt and the parade music was cut.

Moses puffed himself up with satisfaction and bellowed, “I have arrived.”

Ma looked down from her rooftop and shouted back, “Get off my land.”

“Your land?  I paid for all of this, many times over!”  He surveyed the grounds with a look of dissatisfaction.  “This all you got?”

“I said get out.”

Moses smiled that famous aw-shucks smile he’s used to great effect in countless roles, “You’ve come a long way, Matildaaaaa.”

“The name’s Boomrambis.  You can address me as Ms. Boomrambis.”

“I know who you are,” Moses shrugged off his military cape.

“What’s not to know?  I’m an open book.”

I could tell Ma and Moses was now engaged in a tense battle of wits.

“Not so open it had to take me this long to find you,” the old actor sneered.  ”But by the blessings of Providence, I stand here now.”

“And who brought you here, Mr. Remington?”

“My son.”

“The Loud Enlightened One warned about serpents in our midst.”

Moses spat, “Mermanism!”

“I wasn’t expecting much ecumenical grace from the likes of you, Mr. Remington, or any of your trespassing troops.”

“You Mermanists recruit our children and pollute their minds with crap, and seduce them to lives of begging for handouts and grimy penury.”  (As the battle of wits heated up I found myself needing a dictionary to keep up.)  “Your philosophy is for bloodsuckers who live off the carcass of taxpaying Americans, or even steal, like you stole from me.  You’re vermin feeding at a trough of wealth confiscated from honest, God-fearing people.”

“I presume these are tax dollars you and your affiliated groups manage to get out of paying?  And yet you have earned all the tax-favored benefits you receive?”

“Damn right.”

Ma cradled a pistol.  “I’ll say it one more time.  You and your vigilantes leave now, or I shall be forced to call the authorities.”

“I am the authority around here,” Moses barked.

A wind whirled around, and Ma’s shear garment began to rise and twist.  “Bite me,” she scorned back.

Rufus came rushing over to his father’s side after parking Bob’s truck by an outhouse.  “What my Dad is trying to say,” his voice cracked just a bit, “is that your time is over.  We can’t let you keep ripping off the system.  It’s time for the good people of America to stand up and fight.  It’s time to set our country right, like my father says.”

The old movie star placed an approving, gold-braided arm around his newly acknowledged son’s shoulder.  “Well said, lad, well said.  And we’ll get to that.  But first things first.”  He glared up at Ma still perched on her roof, “Where the hell’s my money?”

“Your money?”

“Goddamn it, yes.  My money, where is it?”

“You wanted it invested in deals your close friends tipped you about.  I can’t help it if you lost it all during market crashes, bubble bursts and corrupt business failures.  Shit happens.”

“Nonsense!  You ripped me off and ran away with that fraud Krishna Merman.  At my expense you have had a lifetime spreading an ideology full of vice and promoting Big Government’s socialist agenda.  You and your kind don’t deserve the freedom to scrounge crumbs off the country’s filthy kitchen floor.”

“It’s the rules of the game that creates the players.”

“It’s degenerate.”

“We don’t make the rules.”

“It’s just wrong.”

“So is an invasion of one’s property.”

“Bah!  What would you know about property rights?  You stole from me!”  Moses paused as if weighing his next words carefully.  “Now, there will be no armed aggression here.  We believe in the rule of law.”

“Would that be Mosaic law?”

“Witch, as far as I can see, everything here belongs to me.”

“May I remind you that possession is nine-tenths of the law?”

“I’m here for my nine-tenths!”

Suddenly, Bob tore out the front porch and down the steps screeching as she ran at Remington’s kid.

But before Rufus could say a word, some bedwetting Reaper up in the food barn’s hayloft fired his AK-47 into the air.

All hell broke loose.