Read Mr. Brass Page 9


  Chapter 7

  A NEW BREED OF CRIMINAL!

  WILL IT EVER STOP?

  STORES ROBBED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, SHOPPERS STAY HOME!

  Senator Hutherton looked at the sordid assortment of headlines. Upon seeing such dastardly news about the state of public safety in the republic of Selegania, a store owner would likely look into hiring an armed guard or changing professions. A father might issue his children a strict prohibition against going out in public until these fiendish criminals—or at least the ringleaders—were brought to justice. A police officer might regret his chosen line of work.

  But as Senator Hutherton looked at the sundry articles spread out in front of him, he smiled with the same satisfaction as a man viewing his royal flush in a high stakes game. He didn’t know what strings Ambassador Rochten had pulled to accomplish something like this, nor did he care. What he did care about was whether it was enough. Enough to convince the senate to formally outlaw this . . . terrible substance (and he began to laugh uproariously at his own hypocrisy as his thoughts reached this stage) in spite of a small constitutional problem:

  Article 8: The senate shall not prohibit the voluntary adult consumption of any non-poisonous substance.

  Yes, Article 8 was a bit of a problem, but it permitted enough leeway, he felt, to certainly get the senate to pass legislation outlawing Smokeless Green—after all, the term “poisonous” permitted some flexibility. Then, it would be a question of whether some citizen would sue and challenge the law as unconstitutional. The very thought made him groan but only for an instant.

  If Ambassador Rochten had such connections as to orchestrate a series of headline-catching criminal acts—such that had certainly shifted public opinion in favor of banning this substance, which had only recently arisen out of the most opaque obscurity—it would likely be child’s play to silence anyone foolish enough to challenge this law.

  In the unlikely event someone was foolish enough to challenge the new law without being quickly dealt with, there would still be procedural methods of tying up the lawsuit for many years in the courts before anything would come of it—all of which would provide more time to ensure the person was dealt with (a reassuring smile came to his face). And, as a last resort, if public opinion could be stoked even hotter against this foul substance, perhaps the votes would be there to repeal Article 8 altogether.

  “Anything is possible with determination!” he proclaimed out loud boldly, not minding that he was not yet in front of an enraptured audience but rather in the privacy of his spacious study. But he considered the thick line of Smokeless Green in front of him a far better audience than the rows of stuffy, old senators he would be addressing soon.

  SNIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFF!!!

  He had been starting to develop quite a tolerance for Green Buddy, as he was starting to affectionately call it, but he had made the line thicker than ever before (well, almost, a voice corrected him), and that together with the headlines was really sending his happy side into overdrive!

  “WOOOOOO!!” he shouted, to no one in particular.

  Then, reassuming the solemn face worthy of a senator of the republic, he pulled out a piece of beautiful parchment adorned with ornate calligraphy. It was the proposed legislation. He had come near finishing it a few days ago but then stopped, fearing he would jinx himself by the presumptuous act. But the headlines lying innately on the table now seemed to take on animate form, telling him, Finish the bill! I’ve got a store to run!

  I’ve got two young’uns, and I ain’t lettin’ them out of my sight till that stuff is outlawed!

  My favorite store was hit by those no-good drug maniacs, and it closed as a result! Now, where am I going to buy my business suits?!

  “Calm, calm,” Hutherton told his imaginary pleading audience of desperate store owners, parents, and patrons, picking up a gold-embroidered pen.

  His mind’s silly euphoria had now passed, and with a drill sergeant’s face and eagle-like, darting eyes he began making quick, calculated strokes on the parchment, the slightest detail unable to escape the now razor-focused man drafting one of the most consequential bills in the history of Selegania’s centuries-old republic.