The sign read in flashy neon wave ‘No Foreigners allowed. Will be shot dead on sight!’ to all from the across the border.

“Everyone one of them sunsuvabitches is a terrorist!!” Walter said, spitting to the ground. “Coming here to rape my daughters!!”

“Walter, you ain’t got a kid to your name, you too ugly to get a woman pregnant!” Johnny, the word of reason laughed back.

“I coulda got a woman!! I’m saving myself for marriage!!”



“Walter, you’re 54!! You’re pass the point of saving and now, just gonna die a virgin!!” Johnny laughed out.

Boonesville Debate Club was going through its usual fun days.

The August heat was a cooking eggs inside the fridge.

It was that hot.

“Lemonade boys” Sarah the waitress asked coming out from the rough wood building known as Marge’s diner.

Who was Marge?

She was a city woman who came down here in 1968 with a dream and fifteen hundred dollars to open a diner in some shit hole out beyond the backwaters.

Sarah, the current owner and main waitress, cook, and bus boy(her son Daniel the dishwasher), was Marge’s daughter by adopted birth.

Marge’s sister, a good girl who lost her way, as Marge would say, died in a horrible car accident right after Sarah was born. And Marge, being a good girl who also may have lost her way, took Sarah in as her own.

Nobody remembers exactly when and why this spot was chosen for the debate club but here they were, ten men, a few kids gathered around the steps, two old hound dogs, a cat nobody knew who belonged to and a rooster looking for worms in the grass.

Mayor Matt was rocking on rocking chair, smoking his pipe, like he did every night when a gun shot rang out, coming from the general store.

Then another.

A scream.

“Terrorists!!” Walter screech and hid behind his chair, shaking like nothing anyone had seen.

“What da…” they all said peering over towards the store.

“We could be witnesses to a murder!” someone said.

“I ain’t seeing nothing!!” Walter cried out. “I no see or heard a thing!! Firecrackers probably!!”

The sheriff, Andrew Dalton III, stood up from his spot.

“I guess I should go investigate!!” he crossed the street and peered into the large glass windows.

“See anything sheriff?” someone yelled slightly in a whisper but loud enough anyone in seven counties could hear.

“Too dark!” the sheriff whispered back. He started moving around to the back of the building when another shot rang out.

The sheriff dropped to the ground, dead.

“He….he…..” Walter whimpered.

“Yep, he be dead!!!” someone said.

“What we going to do??” Walter cried out. “Law done died!!!”

A few of the braver men sneaked over to the sheriff’s body and hoisted him onto their shoulders and made their way back to the diner.

Walter was on the phone with the police department. “Sheriff dead! Killed by terrorists!!” he was screaming.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire Boone County police department, fire department, county coroner and 4-H were on the scene.

“Shots fired from over there!!” Walter said, pointing towards the general store.

Deputy Canon went over quietly, tapping on the door.

Old man Mulligan who owned the shop came down from his apartment over the store.

A brief conversation ensued.

Few minutes later, the deputy approached the group.

“Mr. Mulligan apparently was watching a movie on his TV set. A movie based on a shoot out…”

The group looked puzzle.

“Apparently you all heard the gun shots from Channel Five’s Movie of the Week!”

“But the sheriff??” Walter stuttered out.

“I won’t know for a while but if I had to guess, a bad heart and too much excitement!!”

They all decided it was a good time to adjourn the meeting.

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