Saturday, October 13, 2007

More Trouble With Brackwater...

The scene: Once again a certain plush office in the Dream Zone, one of the few places in Bodybagh, the capital of Wudda-Wrek, where an free, Arrogant citizen can walk freely about and, for example, enjoy a McBarf burger without too much fear of a bullet or a piece of shrapnel flying through the lightly salted freedom-fries.

Once again, an aide rushes in:


Sir, we have a problem with Brackwater again!

Shit! Don't those cowboys know what a holster is for?

No sir, nobody's been shot.

What's the problem then?

Well, you know all those things Prime Miniter Malarkey was coming on with about throwing Brackwater out of the country or maybe even putting them on trial in a court here in Wudda-Wreck?

Sure, he's just grandstanding for his base so he won't look like the puppet he is, if he gets too uppity, we'll just pull his strings -- or find another dolly...

But sir, that's not the problem -- the natives got upset after what he said and the families of the 20 people who got killed when the Brackwater team emptied their magazines into the crowd families are demanding reimbursement, blood money you know --

How much?

Four million dollars for the lot of them.

What? That's ridiculous, we don't pay that kind of money! Why that's 200,000 dollars for a cold corpse. That will never do!

But sir --

No way, no way! Remember a while back? We set the precedent after that Brackwater guy was coming home blind drunk after a party and this damn fool to stop him. That's ridiculous, everybody knows Brackwater people always swagger with their piece locked and loaded with the safety off! Just because the nutter was a bodyguard for the vice-president of Wudda-Wreck his blood sucking family thought they could hit us up for a quarter million.

A quarter million?

Yeah, but that would never do, why if we started paying that kind of money, people would be jumping out in front of Brackwater people just to get plugged so their families could get rich.

There was silence for a moment as the man behind the desk take a puff on his cigar.

It would be immoral of us to hand out that kind of money and tempt people to get themselves killed! Anyway, don't I have enough problem getting these damn cowboys out of the country when they pull shit like this -- do you have any idea what that costs? And then, I have to find a placement for them in another mercenary outfit -- it ain't easy, or cheap!

But sir, what shall we do with their demands?

Ignore them -- they'll come back with lesser demands. When they come down to ten fifteen thousand a body then we can strike a deal. It's very important we get a deal -- we don't want to seem heartless and cruel.

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