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The FBI had come to Greg Hauser’s home and found him gone again. This time they had tossed it. Everything was sprawled on the floor. It was the government’s way of telling him their powerful goon squads had no respect for anything he valued. Civil rights was for others. Not for Greg Hauser. Killing his wife was just not enough disrespect.
First, they bashed in his door, then they broke nearly every lamp in his house as they tossed them to the floor purposely destroying them. Greg noticed how every drawer was pulled out of its chest and slammed against the floor on top of the wreckage that had once been his lamps and his life. This was a sinister government message if there ever was one. He knew it was meant to scare him. Yet, all it did was to toughen him up.
Hauser refused to be frightened. He had grown up in tough times and in even tougher slums filled to overflowing with a vast number of bullies. Greg had been beaten nearly to death on the streets, and left bleeding far away from home on several occasions. This happened to him both as a child and in his war years. It also happened recently. Sometimes it was repeated by street criminals and other low life ruffians when he went out on the streets in a peaceful manner. This was one of the reasons why he didn’t really care how many people he had to kill to vent his rage over the needless death of his wife of twenty-seven years. In fact, after the beatings he took at school, in the war, on the streets of America, and the way his house was just ransacked by the central government’s vile gestapo, he was ready to kill again at a moment’s notice. If nothing else it confirmed the rightness of his maniacal protests.
Greg was not so stupid as to act without great planning, however. For one thing, he knew they were watching him. That made him plan his actions far more carefully. In fact, he had developed tremendous cunning. He thought of what they wanted him to do so that they could get him. He determined to thwart them, but to never stop achieving his goal of total and unconditional revenge. He wasn’t doing this for himself. It was for Joan, his wife. Greg did these things in revering her beloved memory.
He knew they wanted him to do something that would give himself away. That would play him into their hands way before he was satiated by killing the very lazy and fat Americans who supported the Obama administration with all of its medical insurance cronies and their greedy vileness in refusing treatment for his wife. It boiled down to their general disregard for human medical rights among the helpless Americans out there as they faced the Obama death squads.
Greg Hauser was going to show them, but it would be in his own time and at a place of his choosing and not theirs.
He decided to let it go for now. Acting precipitously would give him away. For now, he’d clean his place up. He’d restore it to the way it had been before the goons wrecked it just to piss him off and prove they were boss. That way their unfair actions against him wouldn’t fester inside his soul. Besides, working at rectifying the damage would help him heal.
He started with his clothes, because they covered so much more space on the floors than anything else. So, he collected, piled, and sorted his clothes. Then he washed them. Next, Greg began folding them and placing them inside their respective drawers. He was meticulous in his work. The clothes had to be sniffing clean, folded perfectly, then placed in neat rows inside his chests of drawers. They also had to be exactly where he always kept them. That way, he knew exactly where they were. Drawer-by-drawer and chest-by-chest, he restored his home to neatness.
As he worked, he thought of the callus manner in which the government had murdered his wife, Janet. Greg knew in his big heart that she could have lived. All they had to do was to treat her medically. Instead, they did the least they could. It was all right for suckers like the Hausers to pay their health insurance premiums on time. That was supposed to count, but as it turned out, neither Greg nor his wife were protected by their insurance policies. Instead they were simply hung out to dry. Now, on top of the horror of being left without medical support by their insurance company, he was expected to fill out the forms for non-existent services which they then disapproved. Greg figured it was a lot like what happened to the nations of the world who signed treaties with the United States which were immediately tossed away, except for the parts giving the USA access to every oil field and town in the nations it occupied including the right to burn them to the ground.
The USA was simply a thug and an international pariah. It exploited others. Like a vast international locust, it flew from nation to nation, and inserted its missiles and its troops. Then, it bombed, strafed, and executed its people. But that wasn’t all. It’s CIA paid warring tribes inside these nations to kill their rivals, and it gave them the bombs, RPG’s, dynamite sticks, and rifles to do the job right. Soon, their shops and malls were in flames, and their bombed out police stations contained scores of dead.
America’s occupation forces were thugs. They were just like armed insects with no mind in a science fiction film, projecting its little armies of men and women into its occupation areas, soldiers who were basically wussies with more guns than the locals, and who had no respect for the human rights of people and certainly had no respect for their nations, cultures, religious traditions, and laws, either. The USA was a complete bust. The USA was a degenerate rogue nation of porn sniffers, fat asses, and despicable disrespecters of rights who were set adrift in other people’s worlds without a conscience. Americans around the world were hated, because their armies were known for torture, imprisonment of locals, the destruction of their towns and cities, the murders of their innocents, and the paying and training of local mercenaries to kill more of their own people for them so they wouldn’t have to do it themselves.
In addition, America constantly made friends with leaders then killed them. It had done so for years, including its murder of President Diem of Vietnam and to President Saddam Hussein of Iraq who had been an ally of the USA but who was then summarily overthrown, arrested, tortured, tried in American controlled local courts, and hanged. There was no end to the evil America intended for their duly elected democratic presidents and prime ministers nor to anyone else it wanted to destroy for its pleasure and for its vast realm of corporate crony profiteering.
America was a vicious imperial dictatorship formed merely to ingratiate the rich and to impoverish the downtrodden all over the world. As for the workers of the nation and the entire world at large who were served up atop America’s vicious smorgasbord of domestic corporatism and human on human war carnage, the citizens and employees were merely slaves to be used, taxed, and left to die for all the government cared.
Greg Hauser knew in his heart that most Americans were all headed for the graveyard to join his wife. They just didn’t know it yet. But they would and soon enough. If the government didn’t take them there, then Hauser would.
He worked his way through the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, cleaning and fixing everything as he went. He was not going to let them have their way with him. That was simply not in the cards. In the final analysis Greg would show them who was the real boss including who would function and who would not. When he had finished making the place perfect again, he sucked in his breath and headed for the bedroom which was the last place he needed to fix. They had wrecked everything they got their hands on in there. Even the pictures of himself and his wife were broken, torn to shreds, and left in a pile of paper and broken glass. What had they hoped to accomplish by doing that? Did they think something was hidden behind the photographs? It was a mystery to Greg Hauser, but it made him damn glad he had murdered more than one thousand advertising executives in Cincinnati. They’d never write another news release, TV ad, or speech for the nation’s corrupt congressmen, senators, or presidents. They had spun their last vile statements on American politics. Greg was stead fast and even more committed to his serial murders of Americans wherever he might find them ready and waiting. He figured it was good riddance to each and every one of them. They were the traitors who had brought America to its knees. When you live by politics,
you die by politics. Greg figured they had gotten just exactly what they deserved.
He picked up the picture of his deceased wife, Joan. Her one eye was still visible. The other was gone. Out of nowhere, the federal lizards had broken through the door, destroyed everything, including years of careful preservation of her beautiful pictures.
A tear came to his eye. He would do anything to get Joan back, but he couldn’t. Once dead, always dead, he thought, and that included his wife Joan. He’d never see her again. She was definitely dead and gone. Her tombstone was carved with her name and dates. It stood like a shrieking raven at the head of her resting place inside the town cemetery.
What the feds had done to his only pictures of her was insult piled atop injury. Now, it had begun to rejuvenate Greg’s desire to act on behalf of her revenge again. The disgraceful way they wrecked his house was something else that hundreds of Americans would answer for. He’d make sure of that.