An old man with a funny looking stick walked slowly down Elm Street as he had each Monday morning for three years. Judy’s Café was only two blocks away from his house in the city, and he’d make the weekly pilgrimage to the restaurant for scrumptious sourdough pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a slab of hickory smoked ham.
Dave Rawlings, or “Able,” as friends and family called him, was a retired rancher from Cody, Wyoming. Able had raised buffalo for 72 years as did many ranchers in the area. His unusual nickname came about because of an ability to repair most anything.
Able’s wife, Mary, unable to walk, stayed at home and encouraged him to get out of the house, as it did her husband much good. Able always brought her back a plate of food, along with a fresh cinnamon roll. Residents told the man to be careful, as their neighborhood was known for drug trafficking.
The guy missed tinkering around on hot rod tractors and trucks, having to give up what he once loved to do back on the ranch, after arthritic fingers could no longer twist wrenches. Much of his time was now spent in the city messing with electrical gadgets and tools in his miniscule basement shop.
He’d learned how to make an ordinary drill turn three times as fast as it normally did, until one morning it literally disintegrated in his hands. The kindly senior citizen had some ideas on making one of the new EV cars faster, although he didn’t own one and probably never would.
As Able made his way to Judy’s Café that cold morning, three white males sporting black hoodies sauntered down the street towards him, their soiled blue-jean-britches nearly dragging the ground.
“Gi’ me dat walkin’ stick ole man!,” the tallest thug commanded.
Able, being a wise man—gladly let each accoster touch the end of his cane one at a time, while he held on dearly to the other.
A television newscaster reported that evening that three young men had been electrocuted on Elm Street and were recovering in the hospital. They’d been found lying in the road, side by side, unconscious. It was assumed a freak bolt of lightning struck them.
Able, upon hearing this news, chuckled, got up, and then headed for the basement. Wondering what her husband was up to, Mary quizzingly asked what he planned to do.
“Turn the voltage down a bit.”
What the thugs didn’t know, or no one did besides Mary, was that his strange looking walking stick was a modified electric cattle prod in disguise. Able cleverly named his invention, Shazam.
After its first real test, unlike huge buffalo, he discovered Shazam’s 7000 volts was more than powerful enough to put mouthy, two-legged street punks in their place.
As the three hoodlums slowly regained consciousness in the emergency room, the tallest mumbled in hard to understand, gangsta-gibber-jabber as best he could,
“Dat’s the lass time dis cat mess with an ole man carryin’ a forked stick!”
The other two moaned in perfect unison,
“Amen!”
Able continued tinkering with his cane until he had it capable of 10 electric shocks. With news of his successful fray with three street hoods finally making the news, and that his simple electric cane prevented him from being harmed that morning, seniors from all over the country wanted one.
Being besieged with offers to purchase, the retired rancher teamed up with a successful businessman in Alaska to build the Shazam canes for distribution in the US.
Painted glossy black, leftist political figures quickly coined the term ‘assault canes’ to describe Able’s creation. It wasn’t long before ACLU attorneys in conjunction with the California governor banned the multi-shock devices from public places.
Certain Democrat politicians wanted things taken even further. They pushed to have them declared illegal to own, since defensive canes weren’t protected under the second amendment. They were concerned that these items might get into the wrong hands.
When this case against Able Rawlings and partner finally reached the US Supreme Court, five justices ruled that the multi-shock canes were to be considered lethal, controlled weapons, and that they were to be registered with ATF.
Lobbyists representing criminals in New York, eventually sued Able and his partner for producing a device that made it hard for common street thugs to make an honest living. An activist lower court judge in that state, placed a temporary moratorium on the weapons being allowed there. A California judge followed suit, declaring the walking sticks illegal to own.
After going bankrupt from so many lawsuits, the Shazam Cane Company finally closed its doors. The canes are still being manufactured by crafty seniors desiring one, with the FBI even looking into this.
Able no longer walks to Judy’s Café like he once did, this after his cane was confiscated by local police. The man stays at home watching all of the violence on television, wondering why those in Washington DC don’t do something about it.
Seniors, along with other concerned citizens throughout the country are thinking the same, with POTUS finally resorting to an unusual, impromptu press conference. The big guy offered up these four words of encouragement,
“Don’t worry. Be happy!”
I like to write junk... 