pumpie part 6

This is big. This is bigger than Bissette sneaking the walnuts. This is enormous.

The story you have always heard about "Pumpie" is a lie. Those of you who have heard it, I mean. For Kerfuffle and for those who have not -

This is not what happened on Day 6. I did not discover a "pump" bottle of ketchup under a floorboard. That is not what we survived on for the last 3 days of our ordeal. Smurphy just made that up off the top of his head in that 60 Minutes interview. We really weren't expecting Mike Wallace to ask why everybody was calling me Pumpie. I guess we should have. I guess we should have buried the name, along with other things.

I have to say though, Smurphy did a brilliant job of writing that whole ketchup story on the spot like that. That's probably why he's a real writer and I'm just a tattle-tale blabbermouth here. Watch that old 60 Minutes interview. Smurphy sounds so damned believable I almost believe it myself! But it's a lie.

This is what really happened on Day 6.

Dave Sim pulled a pistol out of his pocket and said it was time we decided who was going to die so all the others could live. We were all too stunned to speak. Even Scott McCloud was speechless! I did notice that Gerhard looked cool and collected - bored, actually. I guess he felt pretty sure Dave would not shoot him. Dave's loyalty is legendary and well-deserved.

Michael Zulli was first to speak. "Hey!" he protested. "Where'd you get that? You can't have that! You had it concealed! That's a CONCEALED WEAPON! It's illegal!"

"Yes, Michael, that is correct. Excellent observation and deduction! It is a weapon. It was concealed. Now it is not. Is it illegal? Are we in America now? Am I a Canadian now? What is the legal status of this weapon here in the FUCKING UNDERGROUND COUNTRY OF MUD, MICHAEL?" Dave was clearly on edge.

Scott said "Is it even a weapon? Unless and until it actually harms or kills someone, can it truly be called a weapon?"

Zulli grabbed Scott by the throat and started throttling him. "Don't start your between-the-panels bullshit now, Scott! It's IN THE PANEL now! SEE IT? It's pointed right at us! I'd call that a weapon, Scott! I'd bloody well call that a—"

Dave shot the left side of Zulli's moustache off his face, clean as a barber. It was a beautiful shot. Incredible!

Dave said, calmly, measured "Michael, Scott... We're not going to have a discussion now about whether or not this is a weapon, or whether it is concealed, or illegal, or blue or black or up or down. We are going to vote on who this illegal concealed weapon is going to shoot. Unless one of you wants to volunteer, don't—"

The pump handle I had gingerly eased out of the pile of metal behind the wood stove made a huge groove between the front and the back of Dave's head as I brought it down. It looked like one of those tire commercials where the tire is pushing all of the rain out from under the tire as it speeds safely along the road. It sounded like a crunchy pumpkin. It had that solid wet thump of a pumpkin or a watermelon, and the skull sounded deliciously crunchy! Obviously skulls are not really good to eat, but it SOUNDED like the crunch of an apple or perhaps some crunchy candy shell.

The pistol clattered across the floor to Eric's feet and I said "Don't move if you want to keep all 8 of your toes, Eric." I stepped over and smashed the illegal concealed weapon to bits. One of the bullets fired but thank God it only nicked my ear. I'd never forgive myself if it had killed anybody.

tomorrow: Let's eat! (and yes, I can prove Dave Sim is dead.)