By: Kee Briggs

His name, Artesianus Scuppernong, was the only unique feature of the night janitor at the small Boonesville High School. He appeared in town some years ago and he quickly faded into the drab local scenery. He became just "Scup."

Scup inhabited a town almost as featureless as he. Only rarely did anything of note happen. However, Friday was going to be different. Normally town meetings were so dull that it took someone with a real case of boredom to attend. But this time, it was going to be held in the high school auditorium because it was to be the occasion for the former governor, Jonathon Casey, to announce his candidacy for President of the United States.

According to Casey's birth certificate, he had been born in Boonesville. No one remembered the event, but apparently his mother had unexpectedly gone into labor while she was passing through town. Conjecture was that Casey wanted to show that his roots were in common soil, so he chose this rural, homey setting to make his announcement.

The event was only of minor interest to Scup, except that it was requiring a considerable expenditure of time and energy for which he would not be paid. Preparations had started on Monday. Construction workers were building an oversized podium on stage. Electricians were reworking the theatrical lighting. Crews were installing phones in the lunchroom for the media. Messes were being left all over the place for Scup to clean up.

Scup's attitude toward the event was anything but positive. It became even more negative when two very strange men showed up at his digs early Friday morning. He was still in bed when they began pounding on his door. He tried to ignore them, but they persisted. When Scup finally made it to the door, the pair introduced themselves as Mr. Alpha and Mr. Bravo, reporters covering the coming political event. For some reason they wished to interview him....him, the janitor.

Nothing was ringing true. Those two guys were so heavily accented he could hardly understand them. They were using words he had never heard before and other words that apparently meant something entirely different than what they meant to him. Their suits were peculiar too. They looked more like costumes than normal dress. They really didn't seem to know how to wear them. Maybe they were from France.

Scup wasn't going to give them the time of day, but they invited him to breakfast at the Diner. Scup seldom ate out. They said he could have anything he wanted....even link sausage and eggs.

The Diner was nearly full with strange faces. When the coffee arrived, both reporters launched into a rapid-fire questioning session concerning Scup's origin....when and where was he born....his parents....derivation of his name....marital status....likes....dislikes. Scup really couldn't tell them much. Apparently he was an orphan. He had been raised by a childless couple who wanted a worker. He didn't know if his name had come from his parents or had been given to him later. All he knew was that his first name was some sort of well and Scuppernong referred to some type of grape. When he had became interested enough to inquire, he had already run away.

That was history, but when they started inquiring into his personal life, Scup bowed his neck. Oh, he kept talking until the food was served but he was not divulging much.

Finally, as he was sopping up the last of the egg yolk, he asked, "Why you fellas askin' me all these fool question? I ain't news. That political feller is news. Go ask him your questions."

Mr. Alpha sighed. "Oh, we already know all about him . He will become a giant among men....the father of our great society. Our salvation flowed from him. What we don't know concerns you."

"Me?"

The two reporters looked at each other. Alpha said, "What happens will happen, right?"

Bravo's brow knitted, "Suppose so."

"You are going to be famous," Alpha said as he extracted a faded newspaper clipping from his pocket which he slid across to Scup.

Scup didn't read much so it took him some time to grasp the meaning. It boiled down that an assassin shot at Casey while he was speaking. However, the American flag had been knocked over. The school janitor had picked it up just in time for the bullet to strike the brass eagle on the flag pole, thus saving Casey's life.

The clipping was dated that day. Alpha and Bravo explained that they were historians from the future just checking a few details for a book they were writing. They asked more questions. Then they took some pictures with their big press cameras before they let Scup go. They warned him that no one would believe his story, so he should just relax and let history play itself out.

Scup figured the only true thing they had said was that no one would believe him, so he went about his assigned chores.

As the formalities began, he was in the wings off stage. After a long-winded introduction, Casey stepped to the podium. Loud cheers erupted from the mostly of out-of-towner crowd. Alpha and Bravo were in the front row. As Casey launched into his speech, the introducer backed away. Just as in the article, his foot hooked an electrical cord, which tipped over the flag stand. Scup dove for the banner. As he was raising it back into position, flash bulbs from Alpha and Bravo's press cameras exploded right in his face. Scup flinched.

When the shot came, the bronze eagle was not there. Casey clawed at his chest. Scup whirled around to Alpha and Bravo. That wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. Disbelief splashed across their faces. As Casey slumped to the floor dead, the two historians vanished into the same oblivion as their time-line.

THE END

Copyright 1998 by Kee Briggs

"....out of the Pacific Northwest, through the Far East and on south to Mexico.
....along paths through college, military intelligence, linguistics, newspaper reporting, TV news, law enforcement, real estate, construction, promotion, photography, securities, insurance and teaching.
....gathering experience, knowledge and skills.
....and back into the family tradition of art.
....Maestro en Belles-Artes, Instituto Allende, San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, Mexico.
....a teacher of oil, acrylic and watercolor painting...life drawing...sculpture.
....a sculptor and painter with something to say and a language with which to say it.
....translating thoughts, experiences and impressions into tangible form.
.....now exploring the printed word."

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