GIVE THEM THE GUNSEL

         I am waiting for a phone call from Tom Ridge asking me to report suspicious behavior of clients under the TIPS program. I’m glad you drove up tonight; we wouldn’t have been able to chat on line. I have to keep my phone lines clear to give Tom good reliable information that will help our country fight the terrorists. I missed his call earlier today, or at least I guess it was he. The machine garbles the messages sometimes, but I heard someone talking about saving. His name was either Ridge or was it vinyl siding. I have to get a new machine.

         So anyway, I’m sitting here trying to figure out which client to send over. There’s Crazy Charley who had his 1996 tax return prepared over the weekend. He has filed the years before then, and the years since then, but for some reason 1996 slipped away from him. I think he was busy working for the Dole campaign; better not tell Tom that, he might give Charley a pass.

         I’ll have to come up with someone else. There’s always K.A.K.; she’s a Canadian originally. Lord knows what she brought across the border when she emigrated back in 1984. I don’t like her anyway. She always questions my fee. I’ll let Tom’s boys give her a little third degree in the basement of the Lubyanka, or whatever they call the place.

         This is kind of fun. It’s get even time. Let me see who else is slow paying their bill. What’s that you say? I’d better be careful or someone might finger me? Why would they do that? Who would do it? My mail lady? Come on, I give her a big tip at Christmas, and I give the employees at the Post Office a three pound can of cookies straight from an Italian bakery.

         The large tip might arouse suspicion? I never thought of it that way, but I am very cheerful when I have to sign for those packages. The packages might be suspicious? They are just tax records; what is so suspicious about that? I get them all the time. Not only does the Post Office deliver, but Federal Express and UPS are here regularly too. You think they’re all probably calling Tom now?

         What’s this about my neighbor walking out on the road? Oh, he takes his Labrador past the house every day; maybe I should report him. You think he’s ATF or FBI or NSA, huh? He used to go to work in a truck that had the name of a high flier tech company on it, but I guess he lost his job when they went under. You think that was a ruse, do you? Maybe he is checking up on the guy next door, the guy who was on television being interviewed the other night because he supposedly has a big position in state government. You don’t think so? You’re sure it’s this house?

         What’s that? He asked you WHAT when he saw you driving up? What was I doing walking around the Ghent Post Office with the dog in the rain earlier tonight? What does he think I was doing? I was putting a letter in the mailbox in front of it, and letting the dog do her business. I even picked up after her and did not soil the Post Office grounds. Yes, I know the Post Office was closed! It looked funny, did it? The Dublin Post Office was a target of the IRA terrorists in 1916? Good god, which war are we fighting? No, don’t answer that.

         Let me get this straight. I am suspicious because I live alone out here in the middle of nowhere; I have a large dog that will not let anyone near the house; I receive packages in brown envelopes regularly, and I often take mysterious overnight trips, without the dog. The answer to the last is obvious. I travel to visit you! You can back me up on that.

         Oh, you wondered why I would drive so far. What did you think? That’s not true; I am not dropping off messages along the way, or packages either. I come directly to you. Well, I am sorry I'm late sometimes but traffic is bad. Yes, that is my excuse.

         By some chance did you have a call from Ridge too? You did, didn’t you? So why me? Why didn’t you turn in that jerk at work that you are always complaining about? Oh, someone else has already has. And you feel bad about putting the finger on me? You don’t want to do it, but you need someone, someone who is a friend and who will understand? I can go along with that, but it seems unfair. We’ve got to come up with something better. Maybe we can give him the gunsel.

         That’s a joke, a line from a film, but the idea does have legs. We just have to find the right sap. We could turn each other in and lose them in so many contradictions, but I am afraid we might never see the light of day again. We can’t give him your bird or my dog either. They are too smart for that. Let me think.

         Yes, that was the door. It’s the deliveryman from the pizza shop. Here’s the money, I’ll hold the dog, and you get the door. What? Yes, he does look a little suspicious, doesn’t he? Very suspicious in fact; that’s too nice a car for the guy delivering a pizza. Bring him in; tell him you have to get change. I’ll call Tom and get his boys out here. Of course, I’ll tell him you spotted him. Boy am I glad we’re back on the same side again, and no I am not mad at you at all. I probably would have taken the fall for you; that’s what friends are for. What’s that? Shave my mustache? Makes me look suspicious? Okay, now go get the door; the pizza is getting cold.

         “Hello, Tom, are you there. We’ve got one for you.”

Valatie July 24, 2002