The Call

Waco, Texas; Friday, November 2, 2012; 10:18 A.M.

“Ted!” the gangly man answered the phone. He had bushy sideburns and a distinctive one-inch-wide graying strip of beard that ran from his lip to his lower chin.

“Hey, it’s Derek! You hear about those fuckin’ pigs in Amarillo?” his closest friend asked.

“Yep, sure did,” Ted replied.

“Runnin’ through the streets, gorin’ people in the gut. We need to get up ‘ere ‘n hunt ‘em sum bitches down! That’s the type of crazy game I love. Can’t wait to blow their fuckin’ heads off!” exclaimed Derek.

“Damn straight!” Ted quickly replied before being cut off again.

“Let’s leave t’night! Haven’t shot a thing in a week! I’m gettin’ an itchy trigger-finger.”

“Pardner, love to, but can’t right now,” Ted explained, reluctant to pass up the opportunity to shoot or to blow things up, both activities he loved. “I have some shit to do this weekend. I’m tied up for nearly the next two weeks. I barely have time to hunt here at my own ranch. I might be able to go later that second week.”

“Fuck! Ya cain’t go any sooner?” Derek asked in desperation.

“Can’t, cowboy.”

Derek sighed on the other end of the line. “Damn! C’mon! Lock up a date, man! We need to rid the earth of those vermin just like that cockroach in the White House. His ass is out of there in just a few days. Clint’s already sent the chair for Romney to sit in,” the native Texan declared.

Ted, who lived on a sprawling ranch and hunted more than three hundred days a year, thought about it and suggested, “Shit, how ‘bout Thursday, the fifteenth? We’ll leave early, ‘bout five or so. We can be on the other side of Fort Worth before all those damn hippies and liberal fucks are awake, jammin’ the roads as they sip their fancy coffee bullshit, or whatever the hell they drink. Half-milk, half-brew, that revoltin’ mixed color. Should make it to Palo Duro b’fore noon.”

“I’m in. And fuck Obama! Already voted for Romney. Cain’t wait for that porch monkey to go back to Kenya,” Derek bitterly rambled.  

“I’ll pick yer ass up at five. We’re gonna bag us up the wildest of the wild boars, whole bunch of ‘em. I’ll bring a shitload of ammo,” Ted promised.

“Hell yeah! We’re gonna to put those pigs in their place. Damn vermin are just like the liberals, thinkin’ everyone’s equal,” said Derek before both men hung up.

Next Chapter: Duty