Posted on 06/20/2016 1:06:53 PM PDT by Travis McGee
Piss Christ? Piss Koran!
Part Four: Resolution
by Matthew Bracken
“Your call, smart guy.” The phone connection made a click and the line went dead.
(The rest is at the Gates of Vienna link above.)
Mike wasn’t a kid. He knew that he wouldn’t live forever. He’d had enough brushes with death to understand that a healthy old age was not guaranteed in the contract. He’d been standing next to men who had stepped the wrong way, and fallen. He’d helped pull a man’s body off a concrete footer where he’d been impaled on an uncapped rebar stake. Just two stories down, and dead as a nail. Laughing and joking the minute before. A paragraph in the back of the paper, if that. There but by the grace of God.
Before he’d climbed the tower, Mike hadn’t planned out how the stunt would finish up. He figured that at the very least, he’d be arrested for trespassing. In fact, he didn’t even have a bottle of piss. It was apple juice, in case he spent the whole day up there and ran out of bottled water. He just wanted BCA News to be forced to publicly account for how casually they accepted Serrano’s Piss Christ as “art,” showing it on their website for years, when they were too cowardly to ever show a single peep of an unpixilated Mohammed cartoon. But finishing the morning by crawling down the twenty ladders, and hoping that some police officers would arrive to protect him from the gathering crowd of enraged Muslims?
No way. Not even if he had believed Vic Del Rio about the police escort, and he didn’t believe that lying weasel for a second. Not after Del Rio set him up for the mayor’s phone call, and the coordinated SWAT helicopter assault. Now there was only a single thin line of police barricades across the middle of 53rd Street, but there were no police officers standing behind it. Frank Salerno had said that the mayor wanted him dead. That, he believed. Some kind of a deal had been struck, but it wasn’t with him. It was between the mayor and the leaders of the local Muslim community.
So even if he wanted to go, to slip away quietly, the mob now unrolling their prayer rugs on 53rd — already angry enough to chew rebar and spit bullets — would see him coming before he was halfway down the twenty ladders. In their minds, he had already desecrated their Holy Koran by tearing up Sura 9:5, the Verse of the Sword.
So the die was cast. Well, nothing lasts forever. It had been a great life, and he’d had a wonderful wife. At least it was a gorgeous August morning in Midtown Manhattan, the rising sun casting beams and shadows down the length of 53rd. If this was his day to go, he thought he might as well make the best of it. He looked at his watch. It was 8:33, so he had just under a half hour. That is, if the mob was going to wait until after their morning prayers to stop the two blasphemies.
He picked up his iPhone to see what they were covering on BCA. A reporter was standing in front of a wave-pounded marina in Cabo San Lucas while Hurricane Eliza swept through. He selected his other television network preset buttons, and saw that none of them were covering the events around 6th Avenue and 53rd Street in Midtown Manhattan. Vic Del Rio had been right. The plug had been pulled on his stunt. He put the ear bud from his little Sony radio back in. On WNYR, he was surprised to hear Jerry Conroy’s voice, but it only took him a moment to understand that it was a pre-recorded “best of” show.
Meanwhile, beyond the puny little barricade just to the west of the crane, 53rd Street was rapidly filling up with devout Muslims who had heard the imam’s call to action. While he watched, he saw something glint in the sunlight. A man in a tan robe unrolled his prayer rug, revealing a sword, which he waved in circles over his head. Then the sword went against the pavement, his prayer rug concealing it.
Mike tried calling the WNYR studio office line again, but got a busy signal. He knew it would be useless to call the other radio and television stations on his list. But he also knew that there must still be cameras on him, even from across 53rd in the Grand Hotel. He found his spiral notebook and his Sharpie, and was considering which sticky-noted verse advocating the murder, plunder and rape of the infidels to tear out of the Koran next, when he heard an insistent rapping behind him. He looked around his poncho lean-to shanty toward the corner office of the bank building, and saw a crowd of people, at least half of them in police uniforms.
The woman from the other office was there again, holding another file folder message against the window. It read >call this number< followed by nine digits. He didn’t recognize the area code; it wasn’t from New York. It was hard to see around the shanty, so he unclipped the bungee cords from the corners, rolled it up, and put it away in his pack. With the BCA cameras a hundred yards across 6th Avenue turned off, it no longer made sense to hide from the eyewitnesses who were nearest to him, police or not.
He still had a zip-lock bag with unused prepaid flip phones, so he used a fresh one to call the number. It was picked up and answered on the second ring. He heard “Hello?” It was a woman this time.
Wow! Awesome Travis.....I remember reading that story about those girls. Sad to hear the full story of it.
The enemy is truly inside the gates. Watch your back....
Excellent story, and the ending was perfect!
I look for graffiti soon saying “Brooklyn Mike was here!”
(Might do some myself.....)
Interesting back story on “Rock the Casbah.”
In the video, note the sticker “Ignore Alien Orders” on the guitar.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_the_Casbah
Thank you for your amazing courage. You are truly risking it all to stand up to the scourge of Islam.
We have an illegal alien in the White Hut ...
we can ignore his orders.
Great story and ending! Thanks
More to come at a later date????
Not my girls. The first one of those degenerates that comes sniffing around my daughters is going to be fed to the hogs.
BTTT
Anyways....good looking girls. Too bad they were killed by Allah Satan worshipping maniac.
Never forget.
Oh, and here is the POS father, and FBI WANTED POSTER and "tolerant pose"
...and I'll check out Price of Honor movie tonight.
Thanks again for the reminder. Americans, esp. liberals, need to pull their head out of their 3 points of contact.
Nice.....or as we do here in Arkansas.....back up a wood chipper to a catfish pond. If you don't like the mess, you can always freeze the vermin overnight. When you are done, just remove the battery and control panel box with the electronics in it and back it on into the pond.......the fish will clean it up nicely.
bttt
Ping to me later
Some folks need killin’ ...
OUTSTANDING!
R.I.P. Amina & Sarah.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rywUS-ohqeE
(one of their favorites, as I recall)
Have not found part 3 yet. It could be my device, it acts up some times.
Are there separate links available?
Wow. I just finished.
I can’t stop crying and that’s no lie.
No, this story is done. All of the future adventures of Brooklyn Mike, Amina, Jordan, the Russian mafia and so on, they will all happen in the minds of the readers.
I’m nearing the end of a new novel I’ve been working on for a few years, and this story was just a side track.
Those poor girls were abused their entire lives. They had been around the "Family Protective" (sic) Services run-around many times. But "Family Unification" always comes first with Muslim Slave Masters.
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