J. Curtis - Calexit - The Anthology

“What the hell! Weighing every bag will take hours.” Chad objected.

“Time is not a concern when justice is at stake.” Terry beckoned to one of the goons in the cab. The goon got out and unloaded an ancient, balance beam scale from the trailer.

“You have to be shitting me. You cannot weigh stuff with that. It will take forever!” Now Chad was exasperated.

“This scale is the one that the Department of Education made available to me. It is certified to NIST 2025. The thing about balance beam scales is that they are as reliable as gravity. This is what we have. And this is what we are going to use.” Branch said.

It took Terry Branch two minutes to weigh each bag of potatoes. He weighed them to the nearest ounce.

He demanded that one in every three bags be opened and spread upon the ground for inspection.

It took thirteen hours to load the potatoes instead of the fifteen minutes it took when they used the fork truck to move the potatoes into the truck on pallets. It tied up most of the crew for the same time period, causing them to miss the time in the field to pick potatoes for tomorrow’s quota. Mardi demanded a copy of Terry’s weights. She was allowed to photocopy the raw data.

Later than night, Mardi opined, “Well, we are in deep shit now. We have twenty-five thousand pounds of potatoes in the shed and we are on the hook to deliver forty thousand pounds tomorrow. Branch really screwed us, and our crew. What do you think we should do?”

Chad said, “It is like poker. You play the hand you have, no matter how crappy, and you wait for somebody else to blink.”

“It looks to me like we only need one or two of the crew to load if they are going to weigh each bag. I think we send most of the crew out to the fields at first light to harvest the potatoes for the day-after-tomorrow. Maybe we move the first five thousand pounds to puff-up what is there.”

“Yeah, but that still leaves us ten thousand pounds short for tomorrow.” Mardi (who had always been good at math) exclaimed.

Chad said, “That is why we count on miracles.”

He pulled out his phone. “Ken. You were right. They are out to monkey-hammer us.”

”Yeah, I could tell by the way they were putting their heads together they weren’t planning anything good.” Ken said. “Man, let me know if there is anything I can do to help. I hate those assholes on principle. The fact that dicking with you screws up twenty other farmers who count on me for transportation doesn’t bother them a bit.”

“Well, now that you mention it, there is something you can do. Do you still have that old flat-bed?” Chad asked.

“I sure do.” Ken said.

“How many pounds of potatoes do you think it can carry if they are in bags?” Chad said.

“Oh, hell.” Ken said. “Probably about ten thousand pounds. It used to be a wrecker, back when everybody had cars.

“Ten thousand pounds! Good deal.” Chad replied, “I want two things from you. I want you to unlock the gate at the southeast corner of the warehouse. The other thing I want you to do is to park your flatbed on the corner of Idaho and Ione streets with the keys tucked above the sun visor.”

“Whaddya plan on doing, buddy?” Ken asked.

“Nope, I can’t tell you. A lot of times it is better to be stupid than to know too much.” Chad said.

“Well, if you are thinking of doing what I think you are planning on doing, you are going to have to keep an eye out for Walkers.” Ken said.

“Oh hell, Walkers up here? The skinny ones?” Chad asked.

“You know I get around pretty good because I am a trucker. I started seeing them around Visalia about three months ago. They are just really skinny people walking around looking for food to eat. I asked some of the long-distance guys I know and they have been seeing them around Los Angeles for a year, and now they’re moving north.” Ken told Chad.

“Most of them are like rabbits. They shuffle away if you say “boo” at them. But a few of them downright dangerous. I’ve seen a few of them around here, now.” Ken continued, “If I was doing some extracurricular activities and it involved stuff that was edible, I’d be keeping somebody around with a baseball bat, just in case.”

Calling the crew together, Chad said, “I am going to ask for a favor. I expect that most of you will say, ‘No thank-you.’ That’s okay. I know that I am asking for a hell of a favor.”

After dark, I need to go into town and steal a hundred bags of our own potatoes out of the warehouse. We got screwed by the system today. They intend to screw us even worse tomorrow and the day after. I, for one, intend to fight back. I cannot, by myself, carry one hundred bags of potatoes a hundred yards tonight. I tell you, humbly, that I need your help.”

“No pressure. It is an all-volunteer thing… knowing that what I propose we do is considered a crime by the laws of man.”

Miguel raised his hand.

Houa raised his hand.

Then Belladonna and Biff. Belladonna said, “I may not be able to keep up with the guys, step-for-step. But every bag of potatoes I carry out is one that you guys don’t need to.

Chad raised both of his hands and waved them. “That is enough. I don’t know how many nights we are going to have to do this so I don’t want to burn you out.”

That night, one hundred bags of potatoes were carried out of the warehouse by five shadowy figures. Undoubtedly, some of the locals saw them but nobody thought it was important enough to report them to the outsiders who had shown up to rub Chad’s nose in the dirt.

The five took turns holding the baseball bat while the other four humped bags of potatoes.

The next day, more than 40,000 pounds of potatoes were loaded onto the semi. Every bag that was audited contained sound potatoes. And once again it took thirteen hours to load the semi.

The two crew members helping load the truck took little cat-naps while Branch weighed each bag of potatoes. Branch thought they must be having pleasant dreams since they were all smiling beatific smiles as they dozed.

Email

To: Erica Holder-Washington

The Cali Department of Education

Executive Director, Enforcement Division

From: Denice Delarosa

The Cali Department of Food Security

Executive Director, Domestic Production

Date: August 19, 2031 9:15 pm

Topic: Food Security, Emergency Order dated June 15

You fucking moron:

What part of “Do not prosecute. Do not harass, did you not understand?!”

In her own words, your apparatchik Lois Gale-Lienhart-Diaz is off the reservation and, motivated by a personal vendetta, is hell-bent on derailing the only effort that might, maybe, prevent food riots this winter.

There is no collateral that was not pledged during the 2026-27 crisis. The Chinese will not ship us grain.

You, by virtue of chain-of-command, are responsible for a ten percent deterioration in the 2029 harvest season due to your “loose cannon” interfering with our logistics resources.

Per the Food Security, Emergency Order dated June 15 which grants me broad, emergency powers; I require that you view the first three minutes of the video at the following LINK.

After viewing the video you will fire Gale-Lienhart-Diaz. Then you will file a statewide BOLO, Arrest with prejudice orders.

I expect a return email in fifteen fucking minutes acknowledging receipt and understanding of this email and a timetable for the actions outlined there-in.

“Hey Honey. This is LaShawnda.” Mz Lienhart told Lois.

“I don’t know what you did but you sure pissed off some important people.”