The Sicilian Solution

THE SICILIAN SOLUTION

w/a J.K. Ryeanne

(nom de guerre)

(c) Saturday, February 13, 2016

It was a bitter but still night when Clancy went outside to light a cigarette across the street.  Inside the bar that he had just left, two political operatives representing opposing presidential candidates from the same party continued to speak together in hushed whispers over stiff drinks.  What he overheard spun about in his head for a political thriller.  

Clancy drew a cocktail napkin from his pants' pocket.  He shivered.  His cheap hearing aid tickled uncomfortably in his ear with tiny snaps of static electricity.  On the paper were notes he jotted hastily just before he had finished his drink, pulled on his jacket and left for a smoke. 

Outside he didn't hear the pre-debate show interrupted by breaking news.  A Supreme Court justice had reportedly been found dead of natural causes.  As the news continued, the front windows of this small bar blew out with a loud boom followed by flames reaching after the shards of shattered glass flying out across the street.  The glass that hit his hand and face stung like bee stings.  The force of the explosion swept him off his feet.  He hit the ground hard and painfully.  Then the scorching heat from the flames passed over him in the midst of the bitter cold for a fleeting moment of comforting warmth.

Clancy laid in the debris while the blown out bar across from him glowed noisily in the cold winter air, like a fireplace.  His mind was somewhat detached from his body, which was numb and unresponsive.  Perhaps five minutes passed while he laid in place when he heard the sound of a distant siren.  Within seconds, however, a fireman was standing over him.  

“Can you move, sir?” he asked.

Clancy, mostly on his back, swept his arms up creating a smear of charred debris and glass in their wake, like making angel wings in the snow.

“Were you in the bar, sir?” the fireman asked.

Clancy, becoming aware of the paper napkin still in his hand, nodded yes.

The fireman leaned down on one knee and--looking about for anyone looking at them--took a long shard of glass off Clancy’s chest and forced it through the soft under area of his neck.  Clancy reacted like a man choking, reaching his outstretched arms for his neck.  He gurgled blood and died as steam from his blood cooled in the bitter night.

The sound of the siren was growing louder.  The fireman seeing the napkin pulled it from Clancy’s hand.  He also rifled through Clancy's pockets for his cell phone.  He rose and moved toward a couple huddled on the ground by a lamppost.  

“Were you in the bar,” he called to them as he glanced at the napkin.  It read:

1. A lame duck president facing Supreme Court challenges to his unconstitutional actions turns to a flawed presidential candidate facing criminal prosecution for her treasonous actions. 
2. The duck offers the perp a presidential pardon in return for a Supreme Court nomination. 
3. The obstacles are a lack of a vacancy, the futility of replacing a liberal with a liberal, the current opposition party filibustering until a new president is elected. 
4. Solution:  create a vacancy among the conservatives, goad the conservatives to filibuster, inflame the passions of liberal voters, the perp wins the presidency, the duck pardons her, she nominates the duck, a neutered Congress consents. 
5. Possible title:  The Sicilian Solution

~600 words