Citizen Roy

I wrote this a few years ago during a government class, seemed appropriate to share now with the Fast & Furious thing. Probably needs to be polished up a bit as the stereotypes were purposely forced, but let me know what you think.

Citizen Roy

Under democracy one party always devotes its chief energies to trying to prove that the other party is unfit to rule - and both commonly succeed, and are right. -H.L. Mencken

“The [snip] done put a stop to the ammo.”

Roy Everett’s sunburned face contorted as he produced a load of saliva at the back of his hoarse throat. The fragile chair beneath him creaked in discomfort as he leaned forward, sloshing the yellow liquid against the walls of his cracked mouth. He hissed into the air; the saliva gushed outward and showered the wooden floor at his feet. Satisfied, he eased back into the chair and a crooked grin slithered along his jaw, revealing rows of sharp, fragmented teeth.

“I done lost about half my teef,” Roy snickered. “Reckon I outta pluck ‘em all out by now and get them fancy dentures y’all Yankees got up north.”

Lisa Edwards tried to hold back a disgusted expression as she uncomfortable leaned against a splintered porch column. She swatted flies that lingered around her hair and sweating forehead as she sighed. “Is Texas always this hot?”

“Gon’ get hotter tomorrah,” Roy chuckled. He slung back a palm full of sunflower seeds and cursed her under his breath. “Damn liberals complain too much.”

“Look, Mr. Everett–”

“I don’t got to hear it, Miss Edwards.” He patted the rusty, twelve-gauge shotgun resting in his lap as he spoke. “Alls I need is my gun here. Ever since ‘yer damn [snip] president took over, he done put a stop to the ammo. Can’t find no shotgun shells no more. And now you’re tellin’ me I can’t have my gun no more either? This is America! I have my right–”

“You have no rights to that firearm, Mr. Everett. Not anymore. Mr. Obama signed the bill overturning the second amendment last week. It was all over the news. As of now, you are illegally in possession of that weapon. I highly suggest you hand it over.”

After a moment of silence, Roy leaned forward in his croaking chair and furnished another charge of greasy, yellow saliva. His right index finger rested on the trigger of his shotgun, and his eyes gazed outward at the rural horizon. “I don’t read much news no more. Don’t got no television, either. I reckon, ‘Hell. What’s the point? Them damn liberals are taking over the country. Takin’ away my rights.’ This country used to have a lot more dignity than that.”

Slowly, he turned his head and looked up at her from beneath the brim of his muddy, trucker cap. “The [snip] liberals, the [snip] president; guess I figured I could just get away from it all. So I come out here, away from everybody. Hell, there ain’t a town around this house for miles.”

“I know,” Lisa replied monotonously. “I drove here.”

“Tell me, Miss Edwards: you some government agent or some sh*t?”

Her eyes glanced down at the shiny, bronze badge hanging from the side of her hip. She locked eyes with Roy again and nodded. “It’s my job to seize illegal firearms from the citizens. I suggest you hand it over, or I’ll have a police warrant out for your arrest.”

Roy ignored her. His charred hands grasped the gun tighter. “And you’re one of them [snip] liberals, ain’t ya?”

“I voted Democrat, yes.”

His eyes gazed at the horizon again and he cursed under his breath. “Goddamn hippie bastards.”

“Mr. Everett, I don’t have time for this. Give me your weapon. Now.”

Roy was silent. “Yeah, this country used to have a lot more dignity. My papi done built this house back in the Depression. Dusk ‘till dawn, every day, he worked this land. Now that’s what America used to be all about. Then some brown-nosed folks up in Washington came around to thinkin’ they know what’s best for the rest of us. Well I’ll tell you what, Miss. S’far as I sees it, the government ain’t helping me as long as they’re puttin’ them filthy greedy hands in my pockets.”

Lisa was beginning to lose her patience. “Mr. Everett–”

“Now I just may look like some old hick to you,” he interrupted her. “But I done my dues. I paid all my taxes, worked my ass off, and didn’t get nothin’ from nobody. Even after my wife passed, I worked the land, voted in all the elections, and–”

“And I don’t want to hear it, Mr. Everett.” Lisa stood upright. Her arms folded across her chest. “Politically, you and I are very different. Now you just may be an upstanding citizen, but the law is the law, and as a citizen of the United States, you are expected to follow it.”

Roy nodded silently. “I reckon you’re right. This country ain’t run by the citizens no more anyway. At least, it ain’t run by the good ones.”

Lisa outstretched her arms and held her breath. Her eyes focused on the loaded shotgun, resting peacefully in Roy’s lap. Slowly, he grasped the gun by the barrel and admired the beauty of the weapon one last time – caressing it as if it were his only child – and, in shame, surrendered it to the female officer before him.

“If that’s the way it has to be,” Roy calmly muttered. “Then that’s how it has to be.”

A sharp grin emerged from Lisa’s exhausted face. “Now, wasn’t that easy, Mr. Everett?” She held the twelve-gauge shotgun firmly, feeling empowered by the clutch of the weapon. Slowly, she raised the gun before her, positioned the barrel against Roy’s forehead, and pulled the trigger. Strands of crimson blood exploded from the shattered face, and his heavy brain gushed out in a liquid consistency. His decapitated body slouched foreword in the chair, defeated.

Lisa spit into the air, and forcefully raised a pair of dominant, crooked sunglasses to her face. “Damn racist conservatives.”