What happened next still defies logic.

Who moved first depends on who’s telling the story, and how many adult beverages have been consumed in the telling.

At some point a bottle was grabbed by the neck and smashed across the bar.

At some point the 30 Odd Six shot out the one rack left on the bar mascot moose head. Someone swung their Slugger and took out Fred the Barber by mistake. With much waving around of fists and glasses, much shouting, cussing and general ‘foreign rantings” the Terrorists fell to their knees and held up their hands. And Mikey was dispatched to Sheriff Maximus, aka “Mad Max”, Redbone’s house – all the phones in town having been taken out by the now ferocious ice storm.

Holding down the fort that day, unfortunately for all, was Reserve Deputy Miller – all of 22 and a full 3 months on the job as Probationary Community Constable.

Deputy Miller was, however, at that point in time, located in the lobby of the Whipsaw Lake Post Office, occupying his usual stance at 11-ish most mornings – scrutinizing the ample rear end of the unrequited love of his life, sweet Irene. Irene Appleby maintained this round and lovely figure in proud defiance of all ‘skinny bitch’ reality TV starlets. A comfortable 155 lbs. and loving every warm and cuddly one of them, Irene seemed the perfect woman for any man in Whipsaw Lake except for one thing. Irene was passionately in love with someone else – Georgette who held guard as the local librarian, font of all knowledge, and local shit-kicker. No one, no man especially, messed with Georgette Sanders MLS.

“Georgie girl,” sighed Irene,”that’s the sorriest excuse of a man puppy. When ever I turn round, there he is a pantin’. It’s just too damn bad the man has no balls!”

“Don’t be such a bitch!”

“No Georgie – he REALLY has no balls. His brainless Dad never could abide tying up that pitbull of his. Just as well he was so young – poor little bugger never even got to figure out out how to use ‘em.”

Deputy Miller, with the apt, but sadly ironic, first name “Studs” was rudely snapped from idle dreaming of ‘what might have been with sweet Irene’ by young Mr. Milchek pounding on the lobby window, screaming and babbling about “explosions, gunfire, terrorists” with an attention grabbing, breathless, white knuckle, shit-scared urgency.

Studs Miller had a momentary rush of pride and anticipation – and in the same split second went into blind panic – he being the only law in town. Sherif Redbone had called not 5 minutes before saying he was stuck in the next county and would be home ‘when the plows get running.’

Mikey was screaming. Irene with her beautiful mouth hanging wide open and oh so inviting ……… Studs got a sinking feeling that, even though everything wasn’t where it should be between his legs, he knew his bladder was still working and in imminent need of relief! He needed help and fast and, fortunately for all, just then ‘help’ showed up.

……………………………………………

‘Posie’ Brown just wanted to pick up his mail, his paper and to get home to sleep after yet another roll over on Highway 42. Damn weather. Damn fools. Damn 4 wheel numb nuts driving like they think God almighty will miraculously arrive to save them from the inevitable sudden sharp and certain stop…. Haul out the Rescue Rig. Haul out the gear. Haul out the dragging, sadly underpaid ass of the Friggin Fire Chief.

‘Posie’, real name Possibility, Brown had suffered all his 53 years because his poorly educated Mother had once looked in awe at a vision of heaven at the dentists office i.e. English Country House and Garden magazine. Not being quite able to plumb her  memory to name her first born Capability, poor Posie was saddled for life with the infinite promise of the name Possibility. Close enough, his Dad always said – learn to live with it he said, “embrace the infinite, Possibility” and then he’d turn away and snigger to himself, just a little.

‘Posie’ had overcome 53 years of stupid snarky cracks about his name and, maybe just a little because of that, flung himself into the only paid Fire And EMS position on the Whipsaw Lake Emergency Services Department. On that fateful morning, Chief Brown took in the little group of faces turned so expectantly toward him and thought, ‘oh crap!’

…………………………………………….

A word about Whipsaw Lake – population 403 on a good day – mostly 357 depending if it was before or after Labor Day. No Stop Light for 40 miles in either direction, One hardware store. One K-6 school. One Bar (well, legal one anyway…) Two bait shops. Two greasy spoon coffee shops and one slightly late-dah ‘expresso bar – wrongly spelled on its sign. One ‘farmers everything’ General store in perpetual, direct competition/all out war with the Whipsaw Hardware, Plumbing, Agricultural Supply and Gas & Go. The Snip And Clip barber/beauty parlor and a sad set of closed up Downtown reminders of happier, more prosperous times gone by.

Whipsaw Lake sat close enough to the Canadian border to ‘throw a side of bacon over and hit a Mountie’ as Fred The Barber liked to put it. There was a healthy dispute over the actual geography and accuracy of official maps to claim that the north finger of Whipsaw Swamp was actually really in Canada – and hence not subject to ‘any damn huntin and fishin regerlashuns!’.

For most of recorded memory it hadn’t amounted to a hill of Mountie horse pucky. Until 911. About two months later a fleet of black shiny SUV’s descended and informed Vilage Supervisor Falls that they were from the ‘government’ – specifically Homeland Security – and that it was his, ‘under penalty of being whisked away to God Knows Where’ legal responsibility to ‘monitor’ border traffic from now on. “Money?” asked Falls, hopefully. “Fill out this form” said the SUV man. And that was the last anyone heard about that.

The cavalcade swept on up the road leaving behind a stack of “You Are Now Entering the United States of America” signs. “Have A Nice Day”. Someone, in very short order, scribbled across the bottom “Stay out forenners – Whipsaw Whips Butt!”

In a suspicious response, someone promptly riddled the scribble with bullet holes, but that could just have been they were a really bad shot and were aiming for the squirrels who liked to sit on top and do other things there too ……..

Whipsaw was a ‘friggin thousand miles from anything worth blowing up’ opined Village Supervisor Edson Falls. Others were not so sure, including Cliff at the Stink Hole, who suffered mental instability from being confined for 16 hours a day with a TV tuned permanently to Fox News. Cliff believed Whipsaw was a ‘soft underbelly’ of opportunity for those seeking to steal across the Canadian border by dark of night to strike at just such a ‘soft target’ and strike a blow against life, liberty and the pursuit of BudLight ………..

How fortunate that when the foreign sneak attack came, it was Cliff that met it head on armed with his 30 Odd Six and a lousy sense of direction.

……………………………………………….

“Oh crap!” stated Posie Brown, out loud this time for effect. Studs was babbling about not being a ‘real’ cop yet and not having anywhere near the training to deal with THIS and that how in the ‘bleeping bleep’ could this happen on a day when Sheriff Redbone was stuck over in Jacknife at a regional emergency response seminar, THIS was the ‘bleeping EMERGENCY, where the ‘bleep’ was Redbone now!?

“Perhaps” suggested serene Irene, “you could try calling him?”

Almost as one, everyone now gathered in the lobby like a tree full of turkey vultures on a dead deer, oohed at the irony this should happen on a day when the storm had taken out every cell phone service tower for a 100 mile radius. It had been on the news ‘and everything’ mentioned one helpful citizen.

Posie flipped his open and sure enough – no service…… now what? Crap again ….

Almost wishing he could publicly slap Studs silly, instead he hauled the man-child out by the sleeve and set off for the Fire Hall in hopes of being able to raise someone on the land line.

……………………………………………….

And all at once, all over Whipsaw Lake, those who were tuned in to Weather Channel saw the ominous forecast of ‘impending blizzard like conditions setting in for the next 24-36 hours with significant blowing and drifting.’

Just as the ticker went across the bottom of the screen saying the ‘State Police have declared a state of emergency and shut down US ………….’ all across town the lights, satellite dishes, antennas and TV’s went —————- oh crap!