The 2nd Amendment - Cover

The 2nd Amendment

Copyright© 2018 by aubie56

Chapter 3

That mass of humanity in front of the house was enough to scare the bravest man, and I was certainly not that man! Nobody was home at the moment, so the fools were wandering around making one hell of a mess. They were trampling Mom’s flowers and had knocked some of the furniture off the porch. Somebody was going to catch hell for that, and I hoped that it wasn’t me!

Fortunately, I caught sight of the mob while I still had time to do something about it, so I called Dad on my cellphone. I was nearly in a state of panic when he answered, but he calmed me down with some good advice. He recommended that I go hide out at Nancy’s house while he handled the invasion of our property. I thanked him and drove to Nancy’s place where I told her and her mother what I had seen at my house. They gave me sanctuary, and I stayed around until Dad called that it was safe for me to go home. It was already late in the evening, so I had eaten dinner with Nancy’s family and was considering asking to spend the night there.

About 9:00 PM, I got a call on my cellphone from Dad. He had negotiated a deal with the news media for me to have a press conference in the school auditorium. The press conference would be moderated by Dad, and the time scheduled would be for one hour during my regular period for study hall. OK, I could handle that, especially with Dad backing me up. The baseball coach would be there, too, for moral support and to answer any questions about what happened while I was not in the bus.

The next morning, I dressed in some of my better clothes, figuring that I should make the best impression that I could. I had been considering wearing a beard, and that was just because my hormones were letting me grow some facial hair. However, it was a pretty scraggly collection of two-bit whiskers that I had at the time, so I wised up and shaved them off. Mom congratulated me on how mature I looked this morning. Dad agreed, so I figured that I looked like what the older generation wanted out of a hero. Every little bit helps!

School was utter chaos, what with the TV stations all being represented. A few radio stations were even present. The local newspaper actually had three reporters assigned to the event, including a woman who was supposed to cover the “young adult” feelings over what had happened. I suspected that she was in for a surprise, or maybe it was the editor.

The principal had given up on trying to hold regular classes during the hullabaloo, so the students were directed to take seats in the auditorium behind the press representatives, and to be quiet while the show was going on. Personally, I had my doubts about that working out as well as the principal hoped, but I had no say-so in the decision, so I kept my mouth shut.

Sitting on the stage were the high school principal, my dad, the baseball coach, and me. As a special dispensation, Mom and Nancy had front row seats. I appreciated their moral support.

The principal made a few opening remarks to the effect that the school was very proud of me, and that brought a thunderous ovation from the student body in the back of the hall. He introduced Dad, who said that he and Mom were proud of me, too, but he took a lot of embarrassing words to do it. Dad then introduced the baseball coach, who gave his version of what had happened. Finally, it was my turn.

I was so nervous at first that I stumbled, but I quickly broke loose from the stage fright and was able to talk reasonably well. I gave the story of my adventure just as I had given it to the police, but I couldn’t resist a dig at them for wanting to arrest me for murder. That brought down another thunderous reaction from the student body, and it took some time to settle the kids back down.

Now was the hard part! I tried to answer all of the questions that I was asked, but some of them were of the “have you quit beating your dog?” type of question. Fortunately, I did not have to answer any of those because Dad jumped all over the poser of the question and landed with both feet. It was obvious that a few of the “reporters” were there to promote their own ideas by the way they asked their questions, but Dad never gave me a chance to trip over any of them. He did a magnificent job of controlling the questioning and keeping us on topic.

I did make a point of giving Mr. DuBois credit for teaching me how to shoot, and he was cornered after the news conference by several reporters for his input. He certainly did not embarrass himself or me with his remarks, and, as far as I was concerned, earned a gold star in his heavenly score book for the way he handled his unexpected part of the situation.

The news conference lasted nearly two hours before it finally was broken up by Dad, who said that the questions had gotten too repetitious. There was a short closing speech by the principal, and the kids were sent to their next scheduled class. The reporters were offered snacks prepared by the students learning how to cook and/or operate a restaurant. The principal was justifiably proud of that bit of real-world instruction, and he was delighted to have it exposed to the public at large.

After the news conference, I got hand shakes from the principal and the baseball coach, hugs from Mom and Dad, and a kiss from Nancy. That last bit made the whole exercise worth it. I went to my regularly scheduled class and spent the whole time talking about the incident. Many kids asked interesting questions that the reporters never thought to bring up. I heard later that every class that day had the same sort of discussion, whether or not I was a member of the class.

After classes, Nancy and I went to her house and spent the time until dinner in her bedroom. Sure, we spent some time making out, but, mostly, we just talked about what had happened on the bus, what had happened today, and what we wanted to do with our lives after school.

On the latter subject, we both talked about working in some sort of security position that would let us help people who were not able to care for themselves. I was going to college, but I was not sure where to go or what to take. Nancy was in the same boat, so we talked about forming our own security company after college. At this point, we had already decided to marry each other, so we needed to work out how we were going to take care of the nagging details.

Nobody at our high school was qualified to give us much advice on what to do after we graduated next year, so we were somewhat on our own. We decided to google colleges to see which ones, if any, offered the kind of course we wanted to take. Dad was also friends with several policemen, so I was going to ask him to try to arrange for us to talk to them to get input from their side of the question.

Both of our families were sympathetic with our choice of professions, though my mother did not yet really appreciate what we would do would conflict with her pacifist philosophy. Oh, well, we would live with that. The field was certainly wide open for our kind of company. The freely availability of drugs at minimal cost over the counter had done more to play hell with civilization than anything since Prohibition back in the early 20th Century. The result was that most peaceful citizens were too intimidated to do much after dark, except in escorted groups.

Since I was now an adult as far as the law was concerned, I thought about forming a small security firm among some of my high school friends. I knew of 14 teen boys and girls who could do the work, so I talked to Dad about getting started. We would take jobs only on the weekends, but I was sure that dances and other social events could use the kind of protection that we could offer.

My idea was that this would give me some experience with the kind of service I wanted to offer without putting too much of a strain on me or my friends. Nancy was only 17, but the laws now allowed anyone over 16 to take any reasonable job. Therefore, Nancy would be the first employee of Pitzer Security, LLC. Mom had been an accountant before she married Dad, and she agreed to manage the books for me. I said that I would pay her a salary for her efforts, but no mention was made of just how much this salary would be.

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