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By HOWARD TROXLER
© St. Petersburg Times, published October 30, 2000
(Note: This Halloween story is not, to be precise about it, actually true. Except for the numbers. They are WAY true.)
There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a distinguished, silver-haired guy who reminded me vaguely of the country singer Conway Twitty.
"I'm C.W. Bill Young, your congressman," the man said. "Here, please accept this large bag of money."
Young handed me a cloth sack with a big green "$" on the side.
"What is this for?" I asked.
"It's one of the treats of having me as your congressman," Young said. "After all, I have been in office so durned long that they made me chairman of the House Appropriations Committee."
I let out an admiring whistle. "That is a good-looking bag of money," I allowed. "Are you giving one to everybody?"
"Everybody who will take it," Young beamed. He went through a recent list:
St. Petersburg-Clearwater International Airport will get a new Army Reserve unit with four Blackhawk helicopters and a $17.8-million hangar.
$26-million for a ballistics project for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, probably at the Star Center, a converted defense plant in Pinellas County.
$58-million to compensate Florida citrus farmers for the loss of their trees to citrus canker.
$6.6-million to finish dredging St. Petersburg Harbor.
$10-million for construction of a joint training center for the Army National Guard and the Army Reserve in Pinellas, possibly near the airport.
A $50-million plan to improve U.S. 19 in Pinellas, as well as several environmental projects.
"And that's just the beginning," Young said. He talked excitedly about his plans, which included "Bills from Bill" kiosks in shopping malls that would hand out $20 at a time.
I handed back the bag.
"What's wrong?" Young asked. "Isn't it enough?"
"Actually, I have never really resented paying for my share of the federal government," I said. "If there's really that much extra money, why not either cut my taxes, pay down the national debt or use it for a really good purpose? Why take it from me in the first place, then hand me back little pieces so I am supposed to feel grateful?"
Young frowned. "Are you a Communist?" he asked.
"Nope," I said. "Just a guy who actually notices that you guys are blowing $40-billion more in your new budget bill than you're supposed to. Over the next 10 years, all this new stuff is gonna whack something like $300-billion out of that pie-in-the-sky "surplus' that Gore and Bush have already spent twice over anyway, and which is gonna disappear as soon as the economy hiccups."
I said goodbye and shut the door. A couple of minutes later I noticed Young had forced open a window, and was shoving cash over the sill. I slammed the window. Soon after that,money started coming down the fireplace.
I looked out in the yard and saw several neighbors coming. "Thank goodness, they will help me," I thought. But as they got closer I saw a strange gleam in their eyes. I heard their murmured phrases: "Our fair share." "It's our money, after all," "Everybody else does it," "Plenty to go around."
Arms and hands crashed through the doors and windows, all waving cash. I retreated up the stairs, into a bedroom, finally cowering beneath the sheets. They crashed through the door. I heard them in the room, felt their hot breath. Someone threw a wad of money on the bed, on top of me. Then another. Then another. They began to pile up.