402. Serving

He was up to no good, that was for sure. He had o this white outfit and white hat and looked like every spoof of a pre-civil war southern plantation owner you’ve ever seen. Ridiculous? That’s not the word for it. He looked like Mark Twain on steroids.

“What the?”

“Come on in son,” he said. “I’ll let you in on the ground floor.”

I eased into the living room and found a chair. “Ground floor of what?”

“A fortune, my son, a lit’ral fortune.”

Every cell in my body leaped to attention. “What kind of literal fortune?”

“The best kind son, it’s the very best kind. Selling a service that’s going to be in hot demand. Hot demand I say.”

“What kind of service?”

“The best kind: freedom.”

“Freedom for whom?”

“Know that statue you love in the park downtown? The one of the woman leadin’ the young slave boy to freedom?”

“Harriet Tubman?”

“Herself. That’s what we are going to sell: freedom.”

“Uh, I hate to tell you, but our African-American brothers and sisters were freed a long time ago, partly anyhow.”

“Precisely. And before they were freed, how did they escape slavery?”

           

“Through something called The Underground Railroad led by people like Harriet Tubman.”

“There you go.”

“You’re going to have to explain this all to me.”

“Don’t you read the papers?”

“No, I get all my news from Facebook and Sean Hannity." We both laughed. "I’m kidding. Sure I read the newspapers, one in print and three or four on-line. So what?”

“Don’t you know that the folks runnin’ this country are itchin’ their britches off to hop into another war? Maybe two? Does the word 'draft' mean anything to you?”

“Sure, but it doesn’t concern me. I’m too old.”

He laughed. “Tell that to the last Germans that were drafted in 1945. Nicht zu jung. Nicht zu alt. Those were their standards for the draft.”

“It still wouldn’t concern me, as long as there is a Canada.”

“That’s my point son. I say that’s just my point.”

“I’m confused.”

“Stick with me boy. Stick with me. I’ve been talking with a member of my group of people who work together, usually in the same profession or occupation.”

“You mean you talked to one of your colleagues?”

“Ain’t that what I said. Now quit repeating me when I talk and listen. I talked to a buddy in Canada, and guess what?”

“What?”

“They’ve done figured it all out, those Canadians have.”

“Figured all of what out?”

“That your folks in Washington are a little on the crazy side right now, for one thing.”

“Okay.”

“They’s bustin’ a gut to invade some country or other, like I say: maybe two at once.”

“Okay.”

“They got the power to do it but they ain’t got the manpower to do it.”

“Okay.”

“The bottom of that barrel done been scraped smooth as a banker’s chin.”

“Okay.”

“Bingo! Get ready for the military draft.” He slapped a fist into a palm. “Hit’s comin’ sure as rain on a picnic.”

“I see. I don’t think it will work, though,” I said. “The people right now who would vote for crazy would never send their kids to war for crazy. Other folk's kids sure. Their kids? Never.”

“Exactly my point son. You ain’t as dense as Mizzes Big Dope says you are. So, we would expect this mass stampede north.”

“Okay.”

“There’s only one problem, though.”

“What?”

“Canada doesn’t want the children of crazy people. They run a nice ship up there. Can’t you hear them border gates slammin’ shut?”

“I do indeed. What happens to the draft dodgers now?”

“They’s gonna have to be snuck in. Sort of the exact opposite of the Underground Railroad. This time instead of sneaking folks out, we’ll be sneaking folks in, to Canada that is.”

“I need a minute to let this settle.”

Keep your eyes on that
Tee Tee, my son. - C.W.

“Take your time. We’re thinking of calling it, my pals and I, ‘The Trump Tunnel.’ We’ve even settled on a slogan, a brand so to speak.”

“What’s that?”

 “Our ads will picture some boys who resemble the president’s kids under the slogan, We love that Tee Tee.”

“Brilliant.”

“Oh, and there is one more difference.”

“And that is?”

“We are going make, I say make a killing on it. It’s going to cost them crazies out the old kazoo to get those brats snuck up there.”

“Oh my.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you are understanding America more with each passing day.”

See also:

Delta Dreaming

All Hat No Cattle

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