Chapter 1: Villainy
Larry, Darryl, and Darryl exited the County Recorders Office in the town of Dunwich, County of Sassafras.
Larry, born of zombie parents, had just filed a Revocation of Power of Attorney against the US government. Darryl (the first one) had just recorded a Common Law Lien against the property of the State of Sassafras for co-opting his Natural Rights. The other Darryl executed an Affidavit of Identity declaring himself a Sovereign Citizen and not subject to federal or state law except as to the Sovereign Commonwealth Republic of the Confederate States of America.
They were Gun-and-Country toting, well-regulated Militia organizing, Patriotic flag-waving, Peoples' Front of Justice fellers.
Within hours their story had hit the media. The glitz and glamor of Tinseltown had arrived at their doorstep. Reporters asking them for interviews crowded each other on a red carpet that was unfurled from the highway to their small shack in the woods. Their Freehold covenants were not enough to stem the rising tide of liberal, hippie journalists and their Left Coast, Hollywood overlords. Clearly, they needed to take a step toward DefCon 900. Clearly, hyper-violence a la Kill Bill was required.
The red, red foothills of Upper Miss-U-Tana-Fornia-Exas would never be the same.
Chapter 2: Our Hero, the Abstractor
Billy Abstractor and his wonderful Pencil of Surveying (or “POS” for short) were never far from a public records office. Indeed, with the internet at his fingertips, Billy was magically anywhere in the world at any time, day or night; like a costumed crusader, he never slept and urinated high grade coffee...well, perhaps more like an Asian civet, but there was a ton of caffeine in that pee.
Anyway, Billy caught wind of the dastardly doing's in ol' Sassafras, and decided to take action.
Gathering his trusty pencil unto his side (it might stain his shirt if he put it in his front pocket and then his mom would be mad), he proceeded to his comfy chair in his basement lair situated between his mother's laundry room and his dad's workshop.
Within seconds, he had discerned the root of his problem; someone had kicked the plug out of his computer. Damn black cats. He's really gotta remember to close the cellar window.
With all systems operational, Billy logged onto the County Treasurer site, the Assessors Rolls, Parcel Map list, and General Index with a deft and swift few clicks of his mouse. Ah, his mouse....the one thing that Jennifer had left him....since before she had left him. She hadn't taken it with her because he hid it in a drawer. Just 7 short years ago and he's followed her on FaceBook, MySpace, LinkedIn, Twitter and through her cellphone GPS that she forgot to deactivate. Ah, Jennifer. Eventually she'll return to him, seeing the error of her ways and then, oh yes then, he'll be the one to dump her. That'll teach her.
Chapter 3: Once More Unto the Breach
The lives of star crossed people are weird and spooky.
The idea that stars ordain and predestine things to occur is part and parcel to ancient superstitions. Naturally, it makes perfect scientific sense: Balls of fusion plasma hundreds of light years away occasionally talk to each other in modern English to plot the fate of two random hominids on a distant planet because they are fans of true love. Various planets and moons cooperate in the process, as do things like the genetically determined lines on one's hands, and the Daily Gazette which publishes a horoscope that confirms all the above.
Billy and the brothers-three were destined to meet and so they did.
It was a warm day in July and Billy was running late. Having looked up directions to Starbucks in his parent's basement just minutes before, he hustled downtown. Billy had used tax records, assessors rolls and the grantee index to locate the coffee house on a parcel map. Bill could have just run it on the corporate website or searched an online search engine for the address, but Billy was not a smart person, just a thorough abstractor.
Billy arrived late, having made Larry, Darryl and the other Darryl wait for him for over ten minutes. The three brothers raged at him in anger, having just slaughtered dozens of hippies at their shed (or maybe its more of a shack...what did I call it before.... oh, never mind...).
They were so enraged that each activated a rare recessive disorder in their brains causing each to stroke out and die a horrible writhing death on the floor of the coffee shop.
Bill was a hero thanks to public records.
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