The Original Sanchez And Whykowski

The Magic Bullet Theory

The original Sanchez and Whykowski.

“Bloody Mary.”   Dwight Clement asked.  He pulled out the Captain’s chair next to the skinny man in a gray Tweed blazer.

“Drinking already, Dwight?” 

“I have to meet Christine and the kids for brunch later in an hour.  What’s in that glass Victor, scotch?”  They shook hands.

“It’s bourbon after Friday my friend.”

“I know what you mean.”  Clement placed his elbows on the bar and wiped his face with both hands.  When he received this assignment from the General Whykowski, he was told to just oversee the various Mechanics as they were deployed and make sure the escape routes were all in place.  After a brief but distinguished career in the Upper echelons of Army Intelligence, Clement was assured that by doing this job, a raise in rank to Colonel was all but assured within the year.  And with his oldest daughter Karen about to go off to college, the bump in base salary would be welcome. 

“A Bloody Mary for you, my man.”  The barman said.

Clement glared at the huge stalk of Celery in the glass.  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” 

Victor laughed.  “It looks like a tree in there.”

“Jesus, it’s just like the weeds in my lawn.”   Clement laughed.  He ate a bit of it.  “Crisp though.”

“That’s why I love this place.  Good burgers, good drinks and it’s right on the way to Idlewild.  It’s usually busier than this on a Sunday in the Fall.  You people Americans love that game.”

“Football.”  Dwight smiled.

“Your boys barely touch that ball with their feet.”

Clement laughed.  “Your boys aren’t playing a sport, they’re running.”

“The rest of the world plays football and you guys play baseball and this violent Fascist game.”  Victor said.  He gestured toward the small black and white TV.

“It’s the New World my friend.  What’s more American than violence and land expansion?”  Dwight said.  He swirled his celery around his Hurricane glass.

“Here’s to John Wayne.”  Victor toasted.

“Amen to that.”  Dwight looked over his shoulder.  “What time is your flight?”

Victor looked at his watch.  “4:30.”

“Plenty of time.”

“Absolutely.”  Victor said.  The two men looked around.  A couple by the First Avenue window paid their check and got up to leave.  The two men looked through the place and a couple was seated in the back, talking quietly.  Victor looked at the barman and nodded.  He walked from behind the bar to check on the couple in the dining room.  Clement looked over his shoulder and nodded at his associate.

“What the fuck happened out there?”  He asked.

Victor shook his head.  “I talked to the kid….”

“The kid was in the window?”

“He was the one, yes.”  Victor said.

“I thought he was one of the best.  According to his Army file, he was a top shot.  It’s the only reason we agreed to him up there instead of one of our own.”  Clement said.  He looked over his shoulder.  The couple was laughing at the animated story the barman was telling them.  “What happened?  Was he drunk?”

Victor shrugged.  “He was a little hung over but so were your boys.  Hell, all the teams were a little nervous.”

Dwight grabbed his friend’s arm and looked at him wide eyed.  “We were all fucking nervous.  This is the exact thing we were nervous about.  Some jerk off might really fuck up and we’d have a huge problem.”

“Relax.  Take a deep breath, Dwight.  The kid says when his spotter called Fire, one of those damn Oak leaves fluttered by his scope.”

“The man was a Master sniper in the United States Army.  He took out G-d knows how many targets to which he was assigned.  And he missed a target that he knew every little detail about?”  Clement said.

“It happens Dwight.  There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Clement say back in his chair.  He shook his head.  “You’re right.  I know you’re right.  I’m just a little wound up.”

“We all are Dwight.  Trust me.  My boss in Chicago was so knocked up on tranquilizers and booze he could barely call the shots the next day.”

“Do we have a game plan?”  Clement asked.

Victor looked around the room.  No one had come in since they had started talking.  The barman walked into the kitchen to get some food for the couple in the corner.  “They’re going to move Oswald today.  It’s my understanding that some guy from Detroit who works in Dallas, the Jew, is going to slip into the County Jail and solve our problem.”

“Did you see him yesterday?  He kept screaming ‘I’m a Patsy.’”  Dwight Clement laughed.

“It’s all part of the contingency plan.  We get him, drop the whole thing on his corpse and walk away.  So what if he can’t testify that Castro had him do it.”

“That’s what the CIA is for.” Dwight agreed.  “I only hope the Intel they’re going to give Johnson is believable.”

“That’s not our department.  We are in fire arms and fake assassinations, Dwight.”

“This one was fake?”

“Botched fake assassinations.”  Victor smiled.  “Don’t worry.  Let the Company do the Intel and the Syndicate do the clean up”

The barman walked behind the bar to turn up the volume on the TV as a Newsbreak passed over the screen.  “What is this?”  Clement asked.

“They’re moving Oswald.”  The barman replied.

“I thought you told me the whole thing was going to be underground.”  Dwight whispered.

“Maybe I misunderstood.  Don’t worry, they have plenty of time to do the deed.”

Dwight and Victor watched the Jew walk up to Oswald and shoot him in the stomach impassively. 

“Did you just see that,” the barman screamed.  “The asshole just shot the man who killed the president!”

“He saved us the cost of a trial and the electricity,” a patron in dark suit replied.  The few diners in the place grunted their pleasure at the killing. 

“But how are we going to know who he was working for,” the barman said.

“They were all on our team,” Dwight asked.

“The guy in the white cowboy hat on Oswald’s left was the team leader,” Victor said.

The two men sat in silence for a moment and stared at the gin bottles.  Dwight burped and put his hand over his stomach.  Victor looked at his watch.  He put a $20 on the bar.  “I have to catch my flight,” he said.

“Safe trip, my friend,” Dwight said.

(Remember gang, The Magic Bullet Theory premiers 8pm March 23, 2012 at Sacred Fools Theatre.  Click here to buy tickets before they sell out!)