The Attack on the Anti-Amusement Park Hippo League

I hadn't even finished my morning coffee when dispatch radioed with the news. I had to tail it down to the amusement park right away. Some gang of cheap thugs had some serious demands and they would rip the giant foam head off any poor sap in an elephant costume to get what they wanted. I didn't even tie my shoes. I was out the door and speeding toward the park, my coffee left ignored and getting colder on the kitchen table.

When I arrived at the park, the stampede had begun. People were running slowly and steadily past me in the direction of the gate. I thought maybe they were panicking, but when I noticed the sign for the 2K fun run, my heart sank. These folks were just here to raise some money to save their beloved park.

Suddenly, as some poor guy in a green sweatshirt innocently skipped toward the exit, trying to escape any potential violence, we were ambushed at the popcorn stand, the mayhem made all the more ironic as the loudspeakers at the park pumped out some Chuck Mangione style smooth jazz. We were attacked by an airport mechanic and a lumberjack. They were dispatched with ease, but at what cost to our souls? We would soon find out.

What sort of nefarious gang was this? They apparently had their tendrils deep into Airport Mechanic/Lumberjack Local 119. Who knew how far this terrorist cell's influence went? As some local joe in a green sweatshirt tried to skip through our gunfire exchanges, a poor hunchbacked woman on the fun run did her best to finish the race she had begun. Bless her heart, she would save that amusement park at any cost. I hoped she made it out alive.

When we reached the cap shop, all hell broke loose. Gunfire and Molotov cocktails rained down upon our heads as we attempted to secure the area. Thirty seven of those dirty thugs had captured the fifteen cap shop employees working that day and were holding them hostage. The gang had even recruited some secretaries from the dentist's office down the road. I muttered at the nihilism of it all. They would stop at nothing to achieve their evil ends. As a pile of hats with dog doo on the brim tumbled to the ground, a strange thought went through my head. My squad went to Six Flags, East L.A. and all I got was this lousy death!

I chuckled at my witty quip, but my daydream was shattered as we approached the broken merry-go-round. The thing wasn't even operational and still this band of terrorists would stop at nothing to maintain their control. As I tried to aim away from the prancing historic artistry, lumberjacks flanked me at every turn. "Whad'ya think of that?!" they would yell as the ranged assailants screamed demonically, "Yeeeaaaahhh!" Fortunately, my cat-like reflexes were enough to drive them away, but the attackers kept using the carousel as fantastic cover. Amidst another final hail of gunfire, we drove the secretary collective back until they turned tail and attempted a getaway on the Jet Coaster.

The Jet Coaster was a tandem racing coaster, the kind where people laugh and taunt each other as their trains race each other around every curve not really caring that their destiny is in the hands of another, out of their control. Just like today. I don't know how they did it, but the thugs had managed to set up a transport system, something to replace their fallen numbers with ease as they continued to pull the innocent standers-by to their deaths far below. Before I could empty two magazines, the thugs' coaster was ahead! They were winning! But as luck would have it, their Jet Coaster miraculously careened back into the loading area. Amidst all the action, I hadn't even noticed that we'd arrived back at the station.

With all the confusion, my squad never realized that they were just leading us in circles, dragging us by the nostrils to their secret headquarters location. The popcorn stand! Their leader had been under our noses the entire time! As he emerged from his hiding spot behind the soda machine, the portly fellow with the gigantic hips took off his wig. "Whad'ya think of that?", he exclaimed in a slightly more gruff voice.

"I think it's time for you go, hippo," I thought. He began to fire what appeared to be his time gun at me. This technology was unheard of. Where were they getting the researchers for this? How were they paying them? The bullets he fired at me careened slowly from the barrel of the gun as if time had slowed down, somehow allowing me to fire my own bullets at them to send them careening off in another direction. I was surprised that my bullets had much effect at all because this time gun's ammo was incredibly large. For a bunch of cheap thugs, they must have had some incredibly wealthy benefactors.

It was the roughest fight of my life. As my last round was fired, the portly man fell to the ground, the impact of his fall causing the popcorn stand to explode in a cloud of flame, hulls, and creamy butter. But what happened that day was no closure for me. I'd killed the Hippo League's boss and 90 of his accomplices. But I'd taken down three innocent victims in the process. Because of that, the wounds on my soul would never heal. After all, despite our victory, more questions were raised than answered. There sometimes comes a moment in an officer's life when he just can't take another day. That was my moment. Following that event, I retired from the force and pursued the gentle life of an attack dog trainer. The scars of the followers of the Hippo League would never heal no matter how long or far I tried to run.

The only thing that remains is the shoulder-cam video I took of the event. I no longer have a need for it. Perhaps you can learn from our mistakes.