Letters to the Editor
DCLaw1
Published Letters: 996 Editor's Choice: 2
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BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
[Read the article: The Leader isn't protecting us and keeping us safe]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]After a seemingly endless drive at over 100 mph - during which three harrowing police chases had to be called off by the Secretary of Defense himself - Jack Bauer finally arrives in Los Angeles, but his adrenaline is still pumping with as much urgency as if the race against the clock had just begun.
Using the satellite information downloaded to his phone from CTU, he skids into the parking lot of the convention center where John Travolta is moments away from taking the podium to address the Scientology convention. A parking guard attempts to intervene, but Jack summarily silences him with the cord of his own radio. Jack then takes care of the guard at the back door of the convention center with an empty bottle of Sunny Delight that he had been holding onto for just such a purpose.
He kicks in the door, even though it is unlocked, and charges down the hall toward the main auditorium. Two more guards eliminated, he reaches the auditorium and kicks in one of its rear doors, knocking out an usher that had been standing too close. The people in the audience nearest to him jerk their heads back in astonishment, beholding the startling image of Jack Bauer standing there, drenched in sweat, his arms out at his sides like an Old Western gunslinger.
John Travolta is already standing behind the podium, his introductory applause quickly stifled by the sudden presence of this intruder clad in black tactical fatigues. Travolta blinks with a befuddled smirk.
"Kiefer Sutherland?"
"I need you, Travolta. Now!"
"Kiefer Sutherland, ladies and gentlemen!" John Travolta improvises, attempting to shake the shock from his face and his voice. Could this be an episode of "Punk'd?" He could only pray for such wonderful, free publicity.
The audience begins to applaud with halting confusion, but Jack Bauer yanks out his pistol and fires it in the air.
"CTU! Everyone, your hands where I can see them!" he bellows to the enormous audience of impeccably dressed Scientologists. The crowd lets out a collective gasp, followed quickly by panicked screaming and stampeding for the exits.
Jack doesn't miss a beat - he sprints for Travolta, whose eagerly nervous expression has been overtaken by a grimace of utter terror. Before Travolta can escape stage left, Jack has him by the collar. Jack puts his gun to Travolta's head like a piston about to explode forward. "Where's your plane?" he growls.
"Kiefer, what the hell's going - "
"Where. Is. Your. Plane?!"
Unbeknownst to Jack, however, Tom Cruise is watching from the opposite side of the stage. He nervously looks about, imagining himself in his favorite scene from Mission Impossible III, eyes darting around for an object he might use as a weapon.
Could he be the hero of the day, saving his friend, mentor, and fellow Scientologist John Travolta from a psychopathic Kiefer Sutherland? This could be the incredible PR break he had been dreaming of...
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BEEP... BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
[Read the article: The Leader isn't protecting us and keeping us safe]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]John Travolta begins to whimper, then to cry, held up only by the power of Jack Bauer's unforgiving arms. Tom Cruise knows the moment to act is now or never, but what can he do? He peers out from behind the gilded stage curtains, heart pounding like a small, nervous dog's.
Cruise spots a microphone stand, the only movable object nearby. This is it. This is it! He has to do something now. He visualizes how he will charge Kiefer Sutherland, bringing the weighted bottom of the microphone stand down onto his skull, killing him instantly. Then, he and his grateful life friend John Travolta can flee to the convention center exits, where police (and news cameras) await with bated breath!
Resolved, he suddenly fills his lungs, then leaps out from behind the stage curtain, microphone stand held mightily aloft. As he breaks into a full sprint - a powerful sprint he has spent countless hours cultivating in his home gym - he emits a clarion war cry, like a tiny-but-fierce Scottish minion in William Wallace's army.
Jack Bauer swings his head and eyes around like an emotionless lizard to the charging Tom Cruise. With a single, fluid motion, he removes his gun from Travolta's temple and aims it steadily at Cruise's forehead. Tom Cruise's face melts with the sudden realization of the stupidity and futility of his action, his stride breaks slightly, and with a single shot from Jack's pistol, he collapses messily to the hardwood stage floor, the microphone stand tangling itself in his legs and Armani leather jacket.
John Travolta soaks up the tragedy with teary eyes and begins to weep. His body goes limp, his reason for living extinguished. The auditorium is empty and freakishly silent.
Jack Bauer breaks the quiet with a low, gravelly whisper. "I need you to listen to me... very... carefully. Just hours from now, President Bush's wiretapping legislation will expire because Democrats are playing politics with national security. The government will have to obtain court orders to eavesdrop on Americans' communications, telecommunications companies will be liable in court for breaking the law, and as a result millions - millions will surely die." Jack tightens his grip on John Travolta. "Do you understand?"
Travolta's voice cracks, tears streaking his face. "This isn't an episode of Punk'd?"
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I don't know if I can keep this up
[Read the article: The Leader isn't protecting us and keeping us safe]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]I have to leave town soon. I know where I want this season of "FISA 24" to go, but I'm not sure if I have the time.
Not enough time!!!