IF YOU DON'T FUND THESE BUSES, WE'LL SHOOT THESE KIDS

By

Jimmy Joe Meeker

First Published in The Wilson County Advocate, Vol. 2, No. 1 ©January 7, 1992 by Donald W. Gillette

I was talking to a friend of mine who works for the County School System the other night and I was surprised to hear that they've come up with a solution to the busing problem already.

Personally, I don't agree with it, but according to my friend, the teachers are going to pull it off.

"We're being accused of holding school kids hostage," she said. "Well, these people haven't seen the half of it yet."

I was puzzled. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"We're really going to do it," she answered, winking at me and slurping like Hannibal Lecter. "What we've got in mind is having the parents bring their kids with them to the next Parent-Teacher conference. We're going to do it by appointment. As soon as they sit down in front of our desks to find out how their kid is doing in school, we're going to pull guns on them."

"You're crazy," I said. "The Sheriff'll put the dogs on all of you."

"Oh, no," she answered, "we've got a plan for that, too. We're going to blow up the Criminal Justice Center half an hour before the conference starts."

"You can't get away with that," I told her. "That place cost five million bucks. If you blow it up, it'll go down bad for all of you. Besides, you'll never get inside."

"Yes, we will. Those guys are pushovers for their old teachers. They love us."

"Balls," I said. "They'll shoot you on sight."

"We don't care! We need money. Puryear needs a phone in his car, although we can't figure out why. After all, he's either supposed to be in his office or at one of the schools. And Brent Foster needs a new computer to keep up with the number of kids in school even though it shouldn't take a Ph.D. in mathematics to count to 6,000. The maintenance garage is desperate for another engine analysis machine even though without buses, there'll be nothing for the machine to analyze. We need cash and we need it now!"

I thought about this for a moment. "Why don't you ask the County to take a little money away from the Sheriff's department, the road commission, and the landfill? Ask them to take a cut in pay for all those meetings they go to. Tell them to cut janitorial services and the gas and electric budget. Make them buy their own toilet paper. That should give you enough.

"No way," she answered. "The only thing they ever want to cut is our throats. This time, we're the ones who will be doing the cutting and as the mayor once said, it'll be 'nut cutting'."

"So, how is pulling guns on people going to get money for the schools?" I asked.

"Easy. Once we've got the parents and their kids in the classroom, we hold a gun to their little tyke's head. If they don't give us a hundred bucks apiece, we'll open fire."

"That'll never work," I said. "People won't tolerate violence against children."

"Look," she said, "with the money we're getting now, all we can do is send these kids out into the world with the same education they give circus chimpanzees. What's it going to hurt if we blow a few of them away? With the second-rate education this county is funding now, they'll all end up on welfare anyway. We've thought about it for a long time. Believe me, it'll work.

"You can't get away with it," I answered. "First, they'll call in the Highway Patrol. True, most of them can't see anymore because of those evil radar guns, but if that doesn't work, they'll call up the National Guard and bring the tanks in. One way of another, they'll get you."

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" she asked, taking another slug of bourbon. "I'm telling you that it'll work."

I shook my head. "Don't count on it," I answered.

"What do you mean, 'Don't count on it'?" she said. "I don't count on anything. Besides, I went to school in Wilson County. I can barely count at all."

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