The Day I Almost Shot Two Politicians

The Un-Wise Politicians
The Un-Wise Politicians

The kids and I were already tucked in bed asleep when I heard loud knocking on a distant door. “What the heck?” I thought groggily. It was 11 PM and I wasn’t expecting visitors.

The knock came again, rapid and demanding. My husband was at work, so I got up and peeked in at the kids, aged seven and five, and thought again how angelic they looked when they were asleep. “KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!” All right, it’s up to me, then.

I grabbed my little shotgun, (just my size) slid in a shell, and headed for the door. “Knock, knock, KNOCK!” Now the second to last thing I wanted was to shoot anyone. I grew up on a farm and was familiar with death and particularly the grotesque damage a shotgun inflicts on soft bodies. Blowing someone in half was the second to last thing I wanted. The VERY last thing I wanted was for anyone to hurt my kids.

I walked quietly to the edge of the door, lifting the curtain a bit to see who was out there. Two men stood on the porch and they looked mighty shady. “Who is it?” No answer. “Who is out there?” “Politicians,” one of them said and gave his companion a wink-wink, nudge-nudge. “Well, “politicians” I have a loaded shotgun aimed at you, so what do you want?”

They ran. They ran fast and I watched as their car spun out and headed down the long driveway and away into the night. I was a bit upset, so I called my father who lived on the farm next door. He was still awake, shooting the breeze with a few of his buddies.

“Pop, two guys just came pounding on the door saying they were politicians,” I told him. “I told them I had a shotgun aimed at them and they took off.”

I did not expect his reaction, which was laughter. I heard him tell his buddies and could hear them laughing as well. “That’s the town selectmen campaigning,” he said. “At 11 o’clock at night?” I asked. “Yeah, they are idiots,” he answered. “Did they leave campaign literature?” I glanced out on the porch, which was actually littered with campaign literature. “Dang, Pop, they left ALL their campaign literature.” He laughed uproariously. “That will teach them to campaign during the day,” he said.

I threw away the pamphlets and kept the pens with “Vote for Whomever” printed on them in red, white and blue. You can never have too many pens.



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