Now the afternoon sun was getting low in the sky. Granny
Gunshots finished baking in preparation for her Saint Patrick’s
Day bridge game at her house that evening. She heard a polite,
but authoritative knock on the door, looked through the LCD
and saw a dark-haired man with a frosty green beard dressed in a
Leprechaun suit.
He flipped open his leather bound badge and announced,
“FBI, open up!”
Granny Gunshots saw the cars parked in the street and
several agents on the lawn snooping around, some dressed as
Leprechauns. Agents moved back and forth, setting up a barrier
in her herb garden, each wearing green beards and small green
‘Patty Hats.’ This highly agitated her. She doubted her sanity for
a second, but she’d worry about that later as she sprang into action,
swinging her front door open and punching the agent in the
stomach. When he keeled over, she jerked him headfirst into her
living room, delivering a knock-out kick to his head. In a flash, he
became an FBI Bear Rug with ‘Erin Go Braugh’ printed across his
chest, a real trophy. Then Granny Gunshots tied him good and
tight and flicked on the outside speakers.
“You clowns out in my yard, you got one minute to vacate the
premises, or I roll his head out the door.” On the outside speakers,
she pumped up the volume to ‘Gabriel’ loud enough to make
her point. She quickly clapped one time and stated, “911 please.”
EARTH’S FUTURE: RED ALERT
56
“Where is your emergency?”
“1776 Constitution Street,” she responded.
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“I have a team of house invaders storming my house as we
speak.”
“The swat team should be there in three minutes.”
Granny Gunshots clapped again and virtually slammed the
receiver down.
Meanwhile, General Smith was notified at the Pentagon.
“Sir, the team has made contact with the terror suspect.”
“Good, what’s the address?”
“That would be 1776 Constitution Street, sir.”
“You did say 1776 Constitution Street in Atlanta, Georgia?”
“Affirmative, sir.”
“That’s my grandmother’s address, who in the hell sent the
troops over there?”
“I’ll get back to you on that, sir.”
Sirens were blaring through the quiet little neighborhood
Granny Gunshots called home for so many years. Military helicopters
swirled overhead, the swat team, and backup police were
falling in up and down the street. The FBI agents crouched behind
their car doors, guns pointed in all directions. Ole Sheriff
Tate’s super slick parade convertible was for escorting the Grand
Marshall this year. But when the alert sounded, he immediately
headed over to Granny Gunshots. He wore a tall green St Patrick’s
Day hat.
Sheriff Tate spoke in his best sheriff’s take-charge southern
drawl, “I’dentee’fy yo selves, you got thirty seconds!”
“We’re the goddamn FBI, I told you!” An undercover agent
screamed, his head wrapped in a large green Afro wig.
“Off’cer, go check da badge the Green Hornet’s a flashin’,
member terrist pray’tend to be a’gents, too.”
While the madness outside continued, inside Granny
JAMES CLAYTON TAYLOR
57
Gunshots talked on the universal intercom with her grandson,
General Smith.
“I know, Granny, you have your dander up. You’re right, no
granny should ever have to deal with being a terror suspect, dear,
dear Granny.”
“Has this country gone so far down hill, you can’t tell the difference?
What kinds of idiots, idiot-asses, are running this joint?
Michael, please order these damn fools away from my house. As
for you, Mr. Leprechaun Man,” she declared with a smirk on her
face while cutting the rope loose with her Bowie Knife. “Get the
hell out of my house!”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry about your inconvenience.”
“Michael, dear, please have these people work with what you
call ‘actionable intelligence.’”
“I will, Granny Gunshots, I love you.”
“Love you too. Bye, hon.”
The message came down swiftly and firmly for the swat team,
police, and FBI to be deployed. The forces were gone in an instant,
leaving only Sheriff Tate’s big green, floppy party hat resting
in Granny Gunshots front yard.
However, Granny Gunshots remained volatile. She pulled her
favorite rifle from its rack. Within minutes, she kicked open her
front door, took one step into a shooting stance and blasted the
green hat to the curb.