Fight The System

Something deep inside, probably the result of watching too many horror movies, tells you that the elephant thing is bad news. What are the odds the red stains soaking its costume are fruit punch? Do elephant people even drink fruit punch? You’d rather take your chances with the cops. You’re no criminal – how bad could it be? While ruminating, a voice once again comes over the loudspeaker: “I said lay down on the ground!”

Perhaps they can be reasoned with, because hey, cops are people too. “Officers, I cannot comply with your request at this particular time,” you say in your best cop-speak. “My illegal areas are, at this particular time, exposed. I fear the pavement will burn them. Being burned hurts.” You’re convinced that any reasonable person would be swayed by logic of the genital persuasion. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

“GET ON THE GROUND NOW!” the increasingly hostile voice commands. Blubbering pathetically, you reluctantly lie down. Sounding like an egg dropping into a hot frying pan, your naked body folds against the asphalt. A lonely tear rolls down your cheek. You watch as the tear splatters on the ground evaporating instantly into the air. After what feels like an eternity, a knee jams into your back and handcuffs are snapped on your wrists. You’re peeled off the asphalt by a pair of burly lawmen. Sharing a tender moment with the arresting officer, he gently caresses your head to make sure it doesn’t strike the cruiser’s roof as you enter. Pulling away from the only place you’ve ever known, you notice one cop looks a lot like Steven Seagal. Forgetting the scorching pain of a seared body you ask him: “Hey, are you Steven Seagal?”

“Yes”, he says perfunctorily.

You’ve always admired his acting chops and now he’s putting on a show just for you. “My mother has all your films on VHS,” you say, “She tapes them from basic cable!” Without warning he slams on the brakes. Exiting the car, he opens the door and yanks you to the curb by your hair.

“I’m sick of naked punks like you disrespecting me,” he whispers in his trademark deadpan drawl. “An American cop is a gift from God and I’m gonna teach you a lesson”. He undoes your handcuffs and assumes a fighting stance. You think it’s the horse stance or maybe the ox. The only thing you’re sure of is that perhaps the world’s most respected martial artist, musician, activist and humanitarian is Out For Justice; and justice means you are Marked for Death. Fight or flight?