"Would Eric Donnelly please come to the office? Right away?" a nervous voice paged over the PA.
Mr. Dylan gave Eric a wry look. "What did you destroy this time?" he asked.
Eric shrugged. "I think a small nation in South America. If the plan worked right," he answered. "If not, it's probably just about the bomb in the boys' locker room."
"Whatever," Mr. Dylan answered. "Is it worth giving you the assignment?" He paused. "And what are you doing in class, anyway?"
"Setting a scene," Cal answered, bored. "It wouldn't make sense to page him if he wasn't in class."
"Ok," Mr. Dylan acknowledged. "What are you doing in class?"
"Breaking the fourth wall, mostly. Mind if I leave with Eric? I want to see what havoc has ensued."
"Whatever," Mr. Dylan repeated. Cal and Eric gathered their things and left class.
*
"Mr. Donnelly," the FBI agent started. He was tall, with bleached blond hair, wearing a black suit and dark sunglasses. "I'm here to investigate a series of... incidents. You are aware of the conflict in which these United States of America are involved?"
"No, I live under a rock," Eric answered. "How long is this going to take? I have... things to do."
"Hopefully not long. I just need to verify a few shipments that were delivered to you and perhaps find a few... er... character witnesses. Now to begin with—I understand that you ordered a portion of anthrax not very long ago. A large quantity, in fact."
Eric gave him an annoyed look overtop of his sunglasses. "Yeah, and..?"
"Mr. Donnelly, what did you do with said anthrax?"
"I gave it to Alice for her birthday," he answered, rolling his eyes.
"Alice who?"
"Alice... I have no idea. Alice the lunch lady."
"And what did she do with it?"
"I have no idea," Eric said.
"And why did you give it to her?"
"She asked for some. And she always makes cream cheese and olive sandwiches especially for me, so it was the least I can do."
"She asked you for anthrax?"
"Yes."
"And didn't explain for what?"
"I didn't ask."
"You don't think that was irresponsible of you?"
"Well, she never asks me about my equipment in the kitchen. It's only fair," he said.
*
"Ok," a second FBI agent told Felix, Cal, Jasper and Lisa. They were gathered in one of the instrument practice rooms. It was cramped, but private. "I want you to feel totally safe talking to me. Nothing you say will be repeated to Eric Donnelly. This is a matter of public safety, and strictly confidential."
Jasper looked a bit stricken and frightened; Cal and Felix were both clearly amused and Lisa looked... Well, she was also amused, but was clinging to Jasper anyway.
"Oh, so you took out all of his bugging devices? That must have annoyed him," she offered.
"His... what?"
"Oh, you didn't know? He's got the whole school wired," Felix answered. "You might want to check on that."
*
"Right. Moving on, you seem to have a giant stockpile of explosives somewhere. At least, judging by the amount you've bought."
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"Under my bed." He shrugged. "And... various other places."
"Why?"
"The ones under my bed are in case of an FBI raid while I'm sleeping. The rest are all in strategic positions."
"That wasn't what I... Strategic for what?"
"Oh, you know. Strategy. Playing Risk."
"You need firearms to play Risk?"
"You do the way I play."
"Er... right. Now, can you identify the man in this picture?" The FBI agent handed Eric a photograph.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
"He's Apu from the Simpsons." Eric rolled his eyes again.
The FBI agent glanced down at the picture, then back up at Eric. "Errrr... Of course. Right. Does this man have any terrorist connections of which you are aware?"
"Well, there was an episode with Paul McCarteny."
"And you suspect Paul McCarteny of terrorist activities?"
"Have you ever actually listened to Wings?" Eric demanded. "The man clearly is unwell."
*
"So the group of you understand why I'm asking you these questions?" the FBI agent tried again, after having researched the room for bugs and found an alarming amount.
"Sure. You think that Eric's nuts," Cal said.
"Well... yes." There was a long silence.
"Yeah, none of us are going to argue that point," Felix said.
"Then you believe your friend is capable of mass acts of destruction?"
There was another long pause. "Well... capable of, I suppose," Cal agreed.
"But Eric would never ever ever hurt anyone!" Jasper paused. "Well, probably not."
"Yeah, I mean... He might blow up Jasper or Lisa, but they don't count," Cal said.
"Nuh uh!" Jasper pouted.
"Oh sweetie," Lisa giggled. "Yes he would. But he wouldn't do it maliciously."
*
"All right, I'm just going to come out and ask," the now slightly frazzled FBI agent sighed.
"Do you have any affiliations with known terrorists?"
"Nope."
"Really?"
"Really."
There was a pause. "Uh... Have you ever tried to harm a public official?"
"Yeah, but I was careful. And it didn't work, anyway."
"Could you be more specific?"
"I don't like Republicans." He shrugged. "But I was careful. Didn't want to hurt any innocent civilians, of course. I'm an anarchist, but I'm not a terrorist." There was an implied "duh," at the end.
"Uhm." The poor FBI agent didn't quite know how to react. "You're not a terrorist?"
"Hell, no." He gave the FBI agent a flashy look over his sunglasses. "I'm a rock star." He winked.
*
"A few more questions," the second agent said. "Have you seen anyone suspicious around the campus?"
"No one unusual," Cal said.
"Anyone looking of Arabic descent? Or Muslim?"
There was a long, tense silence while everyone looked at Jasper. He was shaking, clearly trying to say nothing and about to explode. It was like when he'd had too much coffee. Or not enough coffee.
"Well, no, but—" Felix started.
"HOW can you even ASK that QUESTION?!" Jasper burst out. His friends sweatdropped collectively. "How can you assume that anyone who Eric happened to be speaking with who happened to look Arabic is Muslim, or that anyone who's Muslim is a terrorist? How is that fair? How is that anything but prejudice? When—when you say things, you—you can't just—it's so—how?!"
The FBI agent looked a bit frightened. "Um... what?"
"Don't mind him. He does that," Cal said. "I'm amazed he was coherent for as long as he was. But," and now Cal paused to look directly at the reader, "he is right. It's not fair to assume that Arabic-looking people have terrorist connections. Most Muslims condemn all acts of terrorism and you can never assume anyone's political stance based on physical appearance. That's called prejudice, and it's what lets terrorism happen in the first place."
There was a pause. "Nice PSA," Felix complimented.
"The author watches lots of Seventh Heaven."
"So are we done?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Um, I wasn't done, but—" the FBI agent started.
"Oh, he meant the story." Cal grinned.