[Greg Anos]

The next morning, I looked at the

message that had been sent back to me.

Let's see... World coming to an end?

Check. All the sinners going to Hell?

Check. The Government was Satan's

handmaiden? Check. Exhortation to

believe and follow their path to

righteousness? Check, check, check

and an exclaimation point. No list of

concrete demands. Looked typical so

far. I guess I needed to get some

negotiations going.

So I wrote up the following message and

sent it.



"I understand that y'all consider

yourselves fully qualified for this

style of communication, but for

those of us who don't consider

ourselves qualified to throw stones,

could y'all consider a less righteous

way of communicating? Phone,

blindfolded messenger, megaphone,

flashing mirrors, you know,

something that sinners can feel

comfortable with.

By the way, can I provide something

to eat while we're talking? I'm thinking

that your hostages would like to eat

something besides their own words.



Red."



The first rule with dealin' with a

hostage situation is to lull the

holders into relaxin'. Sorta like

sayin' "nice doggie" to a Doberman

while you reachin' behind youself

for a big stick. You know what

you're doin' and so does the

Doberman, but with just the

right tone you can still get

away with it.

So I waited for the replay.

The Hoover doll wasn't impressed.

"You certainly seem to be takin'

your time."

"You bet I am. I'm tryin' to ease

trigger fingers and get the

hostages fed. One thing at a

time. Once we get some food

in, then we can talk about

weightier things. Like demands.

You know the old saw, 'the

way to a man's heart is

through his stomach'."

"And up."

"Yes, but that's much further

down the road. You gotta get

a gal's phone number before

you can call her for a date."

I didn't remind him I was gettin'

paid by the hour.

A thump outside announced

the arrival of a reply. I went

out and unwrapped it.



"How do we know you won't

poison us? Or use it as a

hijack diversion?



Micah"



At the rate things were goin',

I was goin' to need the Rangers

bullpen to keep pitchin' all these

messages I wrote a response.


"You can break off a little of each

dish and feed it to the doggie

you've got hostage there. If

he doesn't keel over, you know

it'll be Ok. I was going to ask

the preacher you were

communicating with to bring in

the stuff. A man of the cloth is

not going to be at the front of

an assault, no matter how good

the ratings are going to be.

I hate to sound niggly, but

y'all've got a trebuchet and all

I've got is an arm. And if I were

good enough to pitch rocks all

day, I'd be pitching for the

Rangers. So how about something

besides rocks for communication.



Red."



I pitched it and waited for another

response. Pitchin' rocks was a

real slow way to negotiate.

About another hour later,

another thump announced the

reply. After unwrapping it, I

read that they were willing.

They asked for Bar-be-que,

with a bunch of sides. I called

Bill Miller's and called in a

honkin' big order.

I waved over the Hoover doll.

"Go get some bacon."

"Why bacon? It doesn't go

with Bar-be-que."

"The bacon's for the doggie

Viceroy. He'll see the bacon and

know that somebody's negotiating

on our side who knows who he

is. He's a real smart doggie."

The Hoover doll just looked puzzled.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing.

Even without my amigo. Now let me go,

'cause I've got to arm-wrestle a

tele-evangelist."



It took a while to get the

tele-evangelist to volunteer.

He liked the publicity and the

leading misguided worshipper

to the light, but he thought it

was too risky. Still, he got over

it after I pointed out that it

would be a whole lot less risky

that my telling the red-head

about the blond. Or the wife

about both of them. He agreed

that risks in the name of the

Lord were the ones that a man

of God should take. So we loaded

up a cheap plastic cart with all

the food and sent him out,

pushing it to the brewery....