While I waited for the garage door to rise to make my dramatic exit, I reached over and hit the play button on the cd player. I had put a lot of thought into my music selection and being a southerner I felt the choice was appropriate. It didn’t quite tie in with the flag attached to my CB antennae, different centuries and all, but it would do.
“O, I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”
The smoke was getting thick now and hard to breathe in. Dawn was breaking and the daylight was filtering in through the bottom of the garage door. Any minute now and things were liable to get real interesting real quick. I was regretting not putting any sunglasses on, they would have made me look cooler.
“In Dixie Land where I was born in
Early on one frosty mornin'
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”
The door was finally high enough. Directly in front of me was a balding man in a dark suit standing next to the passenger door of a Suburban. He was holding a bull horn in his hand telling me to come out with my hands up.
No such luck buddy. I stomped the go pedal and burst out of the smoke. His jaw dropped.
“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”
I pulled the trigger and swept from left to right with the 1914, the .308 rounds bursting the tires, exploding the windows, piercing the sheet metal, and cutting the bald man in half. Even the bull horn took a round or two as his torso flopped to the side and fell next to what was left of his legs.
Cutting the wheel, I whipped the Bronco over a flowerbed of daisies. White petals floated in the air behind me as I strafed another dark SUV and the Suits standing around it. Someone caught on and using the engine block as cover began firing back with his M16. His rounds were impacting the passenger side of the Bronco and making me uncomfortable. I jerked the handle of the 1914 to the left and up to send a stream of bullets skipping off the pavement and upwards trying to wing him as I passed. I couldn’t tell if I got him or not and let go of the 1914 to yank the emergency brake. The Bronco turned sideways in a slide as I tried to avoid slamming into another one of those cursed suburban’s lining the street. I stopped several feet from it.
“Old Missus marry Will, the weaver,
William was a gay deceiver
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”
A Suit slid over the hood of the Suburban pistol in hand. I stomped the skinny pedal as he grabbed my passenger mirror and jumped onto the Bronco’s running boards. Reaching through the window, he began to move his pistol towards my head. Grabbing up one of the shotguns and I let him have both barrels through the door panel for good luck. His body spasmed and his pistol fired, taking out my rear view mirror. The pistol flew out of his hands as his body fell away and under my rear tire.
“But when he put his arm around her
He smiled as fierce as a forty pounder
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”
I dropped the shotgun to pick up the 1914 handle again and began strafing the next SUV as I demolished a mailbox on the grill of the Bronco. My modified Gadsden Flag was whipping about in the breeze behind me, ‘Don’t tread on me’ marked out and ‘TIMES UP’ written below it with spray paint. I hoped the cameras were getting this. America’s Wildest Video’s eat your heart out.
“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”
The Suits were beginning to rally. I could hear the bullets pinging off and through the Bronco. Ahead of me was a gap between two SUV’s and my only chance at an exit before I was turned to Swiss cheese. I floored it and felt the Bronco jump as I drove over the neighbors garbage and burst open a bag of leaves. I never really liked them anyways.
“His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaver
But that did not seem to grieve her
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus acted the foolish part
And died for a man that broke her heart
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”
I emptied what was left of the .308 belt on the two suburban’s near my exit. Picking up the remaining shotgun I rammed the vehicles, knocking them away from me. I was thrown forward as tires squealed and metal twisted in a sickening crunch. The Bronco slowed momentarily.
Then I was through.
The front end was demolished and smoke beginning to rise from the crumpled hood. As my engine began to squeal out of protest, I shoved the shotgun out the drivers window and blew away another Suit that was crawling from the mangled wreckage.
“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”
I just might pull this off.
