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 THE LIBERTARIAN ENTERPRISE Number 768, April 27, 2014 Get a rope.
Vaccinium corymbosum (blueberry) From Wikipedia A New Berry Bush for the Garden
Attribute to L. Neil Smith's The Libertarian Enterprise Someone was pounding on the door, making a terrible racket. Old Jack made haste to open it up. "I am here to inventory and collect your guns, according to the recent National Security Order 2015-142. Apparently you failed to take them down to a collection depot." The big, overweight stooge flipped a badge out and flipped it back in a bored manner, putting it into his pocket before Jack could get a look at it. He pushed his way into the house and Jack hurriedly got out of the way, protesting feebly. He followed the man into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Well, I used to have some guns but..." The agent interrupted him, "...but you lost them all in a boating accident. I've heard it before, many times. Do you realize that if we search the house and find one gun, catching you in a lie, you are already going to be serving time? At your age you may die in a cage. So don't even start with me. We don't know exactly what guns you have, but we know you have a fair number due to the NICS checks, and we have a fair guess what they are, unless you've been doing some trading. And no, we didn't erase that background check data as the law prescribed. Only a fool would believe such a thing. So start getting your guns out and piling them on the table." The agent started examining Jill's items on the coffee table. He looked up and said, "Well? Snap to it! And have your wife get me a fucking cup of coffee." Jack stopped for a minute; then he said, "Do you have a valid search warrant?" "Don't test my patience, idiot. That nonsense is all done for, for as long as the National Security emergency continues." The fat slob was clearly enjoying himself. Jack heard a noise behind him. "Stand aside, Jack," Jill calmly said. He hurriedly moved to the right just as he saw the agent's eyes grow round and shortly thereafter heard a "BOOM, BOOM" of her double-barrelled 20-guage. "Sorry, there is no coffee on the burner right now," she said. As the agent was expressing his death rattle, Jill cursed. "Damn, that is going to ruin my favorite couch. Quick, Jack go get that big piece of plastic out of the garage. Let's get him onto it and out of here before he makes too much of a mess." Jack, his ears ringing, hurried to comply. As he came back in he complained, "Now my tinnitus will get worse." She responded, "Be happy I didn't use the .308. Come on, let's get this pig off the couch." They rolled him off while wrinkling their noses at the quickly-worsening smell. "I'll go get the Lysol. Damn, I hope I don't lose my favorite couch. I guess the stray shot holes will make it look a bit more antique-like. Or maybe I can glue them," she fussed. Together they managed to slide the heavy agent on the plastic over the rug to the door, but once he was on the patio it got a lot more difficult. "Go find that Richards boy who's taken a liking to you; he's got some muscles now. Drag this pig over to the deepest hole you had dug with the rent-a-backhoe last week. I'll get a nice blueberry bush to put on top of him, and make you some pies when it starts producing." Jack hurried off with images of steaming pies in his head. Jill started cleaning the couch and grumbling over it. Jack came back with the Bob Richards, whose eyes grew round when he saw what was up. Jack mumbled that he was just a BATFE pig who had got in over his head, and that he needed help to bring the pig to his final resting place. "Shit, you guys are more serious than I guessed! Taking out one of these BAT-fuckers on your own, at your age too!" Bob, a teen, naturally thought of people in their sixties as ancient and fragile. "You watch your mouth, young man!" Bob cringed at getting caught by Jill just inside the living room. "Sorry, Ma'am!" Jack winked at him. "Let's see if we can get him on the garden cart." Over many minutes, they tried this and that, and eventually got Mr. Government Enforcer deposited at the bottom of the deepest hole. Bob enthusiastically started throwing dirt onto him while Jack staggered off holding his chest and collapsed on his lawn chair. Jill finally came out, finished with scrubbing the couch. "Bob, have you heard about any more lowlifes like this one working around here?" Bob nodded. "Some of the guys at school were following a couple of them around, jeering and cussing at them, until they pulled their pistols." Jack and Jill looked at each other, horrified, "Oh no! We buried his gun with him!" Jack noted, "Well if it was a Glock it should last pretty damn long down there, but it won't be much fun retrieving it, if we need it." He wrinkled his nose. Jill gave a small "urp" just at the thought, looking a little green about the gills. She said, "I am going for a walk. I'll see if any more of those bastards are hanging around the neighborhood." She seemed anxious to get away for a while. "Bring them back to look at my guns if you find any," Jack encouraged. "I'll be ready for him this time. Bob, you'd better get your butt out of here. I will wipe down any prints—although you did put on gloves right away, right?" Bob took off, with Jack's parting admonition in his ears, "Keep your trap shut, as we talked about earlier!" Some time later, Jack had napped and rested from his ordeal, and he heard Jill at the front door. He jumped up but she said, "Relax. I couldn't find any just now. We will just have to wait to increase our selection of government thugs." Jack commiserated with her. They both hoped to bag a few more before they ran out of them, as they expected to do shortly. However she was happy to display a small blueberry plant she had cadged from a gardening friend, for the new mound out back. The autumn of their lives had gotten a lot more exciting since the government had obligingly banned all firearms for some imagined emergency or other. They were so thankful to the current administration for this unexpected boon. They were up every night making new plans and working out ideas for the weeks to come. It didn't hurt that at their age, they didn't have much to fear, and didn't much give a shit.
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