Posted by
Bull 67 on Thursday, September 24, 2009 1:24:20 AM
Welcome Home, G.I. Joe Part II.
Welcome Home, G.I. Joe Part III.
In the last installment, G.I. Joe sought help from the mainstream media to tell America its government no longer upholds the principles of the Constitution. He was rebuffed by a progressive reporter, a product of years of liberal indoctrination in America’s prestigious universities. Joe finds himself wandering the streets, not recognizing the nation he left for war years ago.
Joe passes store after store, most shuttered and closed. He stops in front of a GM dealer to see what this year’s new models look like. The showroom is empty. A faded sign out front says, “Cash for Clunkers...last week!” Joe looks across the street to see a Toyota dealer also shuttered and closed. Next to the closed Toyota dealer is an open gas station/convenience store where gas is $6.00 a gallon.
G.I. JOE:If no one is driving, why is gas so expensive?
He rummages through some change in his pocket, thinking a cold drink would be nice. He crosses the street and enters the store. A pudgy, bored looking white teenage clerk, covered with piercings and tattoos, sits behind the counter. Leaning back with his feet up on the counter he’s reading a porn magazine. He doesn’t look up as Joe enters he store. Next to him is an older man, possibly from India or Pakistan, ringing up purchases for the small line of customers.
On the way to the drink cooler Joe stops in his tracks. The price for the 20oz colas start at $6.99. A small bag potato chips goes for $7.99.Candy, and other snacks range from $8 to $15 per item. Mouth agape, he moves from aisle to aisle, stunned by prices.A pack of light bulbs is $49.99. Cigarettes are over $150 a pack (a sign next to the cigarette display states, “The Surgeon General warns smoking makes you a BAD person.”) The only item he can find which is even close to prices he recalls before he deployed is beer.
Joe is very thirsty, so he reluctantly grabs a small $5 dollar can of Pepsi and heads to the register. Joe stands behind an old woman in a shabby sun dress, a young black man dressed hip-hop, and a middle aged white man in blue mechanics coveralls. Aside from the mechanic, who had a six-pack of beer, Joe is the only with merchandise.
Joe looks outside at the empty gas pumps and wonders what everyone in line for. Joe reaches the front of the line...
INDIAN MAN: How many lottery tickets would you like?
Joe notices a tray in front of the register filled with a few crumpled dollar bills (which look slightly odd) with a sign ‘Need a dollar, take a dollar. Have a dollar, leave a dollar.”
G.I. JOE: No thank you, just the soda.
INDIAN MAN: (Raises his eyebrow in disbelief. He holds a ticket up with the words “SUPER GIGANTIC MEGADOLLAR EXPRESS) Are you sure? The drawing tonight is for $10 billion.
G.I. JOE: (Almost chokes) Whoa! No, I’m not one for playing lotteries. (looks around, no one is in line behind him). Just the Pepsi, please.
INDIAN MAN: (Shrugs and rings up the drink) Have it your way. That will be $7.68.
G.I. JOE: But it says ‘5 dollars’ on the sticker.
INDIAN MAN: (Irritated) Yes, it is. But I have to add tax.
G.I. JOE: That’s over 25% sales tax!
INDIAN MAN: No, sales tax is only 8%. Since it is officially designated a junk food, the Federal Obesity Tax is added on, too. Also, since it is considered a luxury the National Greenhouse Emissions Tax is added in as well. I do not write the laws; I am just a humble merchant. Lucky you are not getting gas, Cap and Trade has doubled the price even with so few people driving these days.
G.I. JOE: But why is this drink 5 bucks in the first place? When I left a 12 ounce can of soda like this cost 50 cents, maybe 75 cents tops. What happened?
INDIAN MAN: My tall, clean shaven customer, you are most confused on the ways of the world! See him? (points to the teenager still reading porn behind the counter). He is my only employee. I cannot afford any more because a few years ago I was forced to unionize under the new Card Check law. Clarence here had seniority, so my other employees had to go. Now I must pay him well above minimum wage, and provide him full “free” healthcare I must buy only from the government. He has paid vacations and...oh, I could go on and on. (the teenage clerk shoot the Indian man the middle finger without looking up. The Indian man rolls his eyes and goes on.) Since I’m considered management, I cannot work here alone or I will be fined for unfair labor practices. He cannot work here alone without supervision or I will be fined for unfair labor practices. So, my pool of employees shrank, my labor costs skyrocketed, I now work 18 hour days and I’m can no longer stay open 24 hours. Oh, and these costs are now passed on to you, my most valued customers. (sighs). I should have stayed in Bombay.
Joe hands over a $10 bill. The Indian man looks quizzically at money, and then shakes his head.
INDIAN MAN: I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot accept that money. Dollars are not legal tender anymore.
The teenage clerk looks up at Joe in mild interest, shakes his head and mutters, ‘tard’. Joe resists the urge to put a boot upside the punk’s head.
G.I. JOE: (irritated) What do you mean? This is legal U.S. script!
INDIAN MAN: Have you just arrived from Mars, young man? (points to the sign behind the counter: WE TAKE AMERODOLLARS ONLY! NO LEGACY BILLS ACCEPTED). All of our prices are in Amerodollars, not legacy dollars.
G.I. JOE: When did this happen?
INDIAN MAN: When inflation made the U.S. Dollar worthless.
Joe picks up a dollar from the tray and examines it closely. The color and general design are similar to the dollar he knows, but it is graced with the portrait of the current president, not George Washington. The flags of the U.S., Canada, and Mexico are printed on it.
G.I. JOE: (Shakes his head in stunned) You have to be kidding me. I’ve been out of the country for a long time. Maybe too long. Can I exchange my dollars for these...? (points at the new script).
INDIAN MAN: Ameros.
G.I. JOE: Ameros (the word feels dirty on his tongue. He tosses it back into the tray in disgust).
INDIAN MAN: (laughs) Oh, no sir! It would take several truckloads of old money to buy this can of refreshing cola. (after a thoughtful pause he goes on). Come to think of it, it won’t be long before it will take a truckload of the new money to buy it, too.
INDIAN MAN: (shrugs) I’m sorry. Have a nice day and comeback soon...but with real money.
Dazed, Joe walks to the door. The Indian man grabs a broom and dustpan and moves to the back of the store, shooting the clerk a nasty look. On the way out Joe glances at the magazine rack and stops cold. On every magazine cover, every newspaper (of which there were few), and every tabloid are pictures of the president. Each picture is flattering, each caption glorifying. Joe looks up at the television, and there is the president making a speech. Joe walks back to the counter again.
G.I. JOE: Can I change the channel for a moment? It will only take a second.
CLERK: (without looking up) I don’t care, it’s all ‘tarded anyway.
Joe reaches up and scrolls through the channels. The president is on every channel. On one network he’s giving speech, on another he’s reading to school children, and on another he’s joking with a group of women on a morning talk show.A cold chill runs down his spine, he’s seen this before.
America was now a third-world backwater, where the money is worthless and politics is a personality cult. Here the people are repressed through excessive taxes, state media, and the numbing drug of socialism. Anger fills Joe’s heart.
G.I. JOE: Hey, buddy, which channel is Fox News on?
CLERK: (finally looks up with an expression of shock and disgust) What ARE you talking about, dude?! That s*it is definitely con-tra-BANDED! They dun outlawed that hate speech, mo-fo! Whut’choo want wid dat? Are you a hater or sump’ing?
Joe steps away from the counter and leaves without a word.
CLERK: (calls out as Joe leaves) Dat’s right, keep walking! Get yo a*s outa here, you HATER!
Joe walks the streets for hours, unable to reconcile what he’s seen this day with the America he loves and cherishes.
G.I. JOE: (Grits his teeth and shakes his fist) How did this happen here!
He comes upon a church, Main StreetMission, nestled among the decaying buildings of downtown.
Joe has both a spiritual and physical hunger. As the sun sets and the night turns cold he refocuses his mind on his immediate needs: food and shelter. He can live off the land if necessary, but he prefers a warm bed to the cold ground. Maybe the mission will have a spare cot and something to eat.
Hope rises in heart and his spirits lift as he walks toward the chapel. He’ll go inside and pray. Still, he believes in the American people.
To be continued.