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If it’s below the waist, it’s not attempted murder

July 20, 2007

“Would you shoot someone in the leg if they asked you to?” Mikka asks.

“I think it would depend on who asked me,” I say. “But for most people, no, I don’t think I would.”

“Say someone asked you to shoot them in the leg so they didn’t have to go back to Iraq for another tour of duty,” says Mikka. “Would you shoot them then?”

“Hmm… interesting,” I say. “Nah, I don’t think I could. There would be an investigation, and they’d trace it back to me and it’d be a whole mess.”

“Ah, damn it,” says Mikka. “I was hoping you’d be able to help me. Chenglei down at the Wonton Soup Factory is getting called up yet again to go to Iraq and wanted me to help him get out of it.”

“So why can’t you shoot him?” I ask. “You’re an expert at Duck Hunt. That counts for weapons training, sort of.”

“Real guns are heavy and they’re too loud,” says Mikka. “I flinch when I pull the trigger and I end up missing.”

“You’ve attempted this before, haven’t you,” I say.

“We tried  it in his garage,” says Mikka.  “I ended up shooting the tire on his bike.”

“Maybe we can get Tag Larkin to shoot him,” I say. “He’d probably be excited to do it.”

“Tag Larkin is not to be trusted with anything,” says Mikka. “One time I asked Tag Larkin to help me move a couch, and he pissed on it.”

“Bernie the half-cyborg cat will do it for some tuna,” I say. “But I think they’d know it was him who did it, because who else has a laser cannon?”

“Do you think we can get Ninja Vicki to hit him in the thigh with a throwing star?” asks Mikka.

So we go over to Ninja Vicki’s house and ring her doorbell, prompting Ninja Vicki to jump out of the tree where she’s been hiding.”What’s up?” says Ninja Vicki.

“Mikka’s co-worker is in the Army and doesn’t want go back to Iraq,” I say.  “Can you stab him in the leg with something so he can’t go?”

“Sorry, ninjas do not maim,” says Ninja Vicki.  “We kill.  It’s against my ninja principles to draw blood and not deliver a death blow.”

“Damn…” I say.  “Think we could get the Army to think Chenglei is gay?”

“Not with him having a wife and two kids,” says Mikka.

“Maybe if he was Governor Jim McGreevey it would work,” I say.   “No, we need some other uncomfortable sexual perversion.”

“I think if you’re into bondage they let you work at Abu Ghraib,” says Mikka.

“I’m thinking of something else,” I say.

An hour later we bring Chenglei over to Furry Navel’s and ask Fur Elise to measure him for an animal suit.  It’s the first day of the rest of his life as a furry.  And while the nightmares he will undoubtedly have after his first yiffing session will be awful, they’ll certainly be more manageable than the ones he would get in a third tour in Iraq.

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