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Interview of a Woman Who Shot a Rapist

Newscaster: In the early morning hours while most people were still sleeping, John Doe was prowling the sidestreets of this sleepy town in search of his next rape victim. But apparently he picked the wrong woman this time, and he won't be raping any more women. Joining us in our studio is 61 year old Amy Rican. Mrs. Rican, can you please tell us what happened this morning?

Amyrican: Well, sure. I was having a great dream about my cute little grand daughter riding her new tricycle we bought her for Christmas. She is so beautiful, and we were playing and laughing and having so much fun. Oh, I love her so much.

Newscaster becoming Newswhore: Uh huh. Um, I'm sure your grand daughter is a great kid, but can you please tell us about the man you killed?

Amy: Oh, that. Okay. Well, as I said, I was sleeping and playing with my little precious, when all the sudden I heard this glass breaking. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen, and I was really, like, you know, woke up! I mean red alert woke up. It was really loud glass breaking noise, kinda like you hear on the TV.

Newswhore: Yes, yes, glass breaking is loud and it woke you up. Then what? I think our viewers want to hear about how you killed another human being this morning. Please!

Amy: Well, it's real simple, actually, but you don't need to be a jerk about it. You invited me here, remember? Where are your manners?

Newswhore: I apologize ma'am. It's just that we only have two more minutes, and I know people will be interested in hearing your side of the story. Please, continue.

Amy: That's more like it. Okay, so I grabbed my revolver.

Newswhore: And you had to get it out of your closet?

Amy: No, of course not! What good would my gun do me all the way over in my closet in the dark. Jeez, are you some city slicker or something?

Newswhore: So you keep a loaded gun right next to you while you sleep?!

Amy: Of course! Don't you, for Pete's sake?!

Newswhore: Well, no. I don't own any guns.

Amy: That's pretty stupid. If this guy came to your house, I guess you'd be asking him to please wear a condom or some such nonsense. Have it your way, sister. Not me.

Newswhore: Look, just tell us about how you killed him, will you. Please! So you took the trigger lock off and went to the kitchen and shot him in cold blood, right?

Amy: Triggerlock? On my self-defense gun? Honey, you're not very bright, are you? You really should stop listening to Al Gore and start listening to some common sense for Goodness sake. I wouldn't put a lock on my gun even if the Pope got down on his knees and begged me to, but he's not that stupid. He understands self-defense, which is more than I can say for you.

Newswhore: Mrs. Rican, we invited you here this morning to tell us about how you murdered someone for breaking your window, and we'd like to hear about that. If you don't want to tell us about that we'll need to go on to other stories.

Amy: Oh, allright. How long do I have to tell you what happened?

Newswhore: About 75 seconds. Please hurry.

Amy: Well, I walked into my kitchen with my .44 magnum and--

Newswhore: .44 MAGNUM!!

Amy: That's right. Every lady should have one. My goodness, they pack a wallop! Hee hee!

Newswhore: My, God!

Amy: Amen to that, sister. Anyway, I flipped on the light and he was just inside my kitchen door. He'd broken the stained glass window that my grandmother's father made for her first home. My son-in-law installed it for me when we bought the house, and it really hurt to see that thing in pieces on the floor, but I had more pressing things to think about, so I didn't pay too much attention to Granny Grit's window right then.

Newswhore: So you killed him over a family heirloom.

Amy: Look, who's telling this story? Me, or you?!

Newswhore: Okay, go ahead.

Amy: So I pointed my little baby right at his chest and told him to drop the crowbar or I'd be sending him to see his ancestors. Well, he started telling me I wouldn't have the guts to pull the trigger, and while he was trying to weasel his way out of me helping put him in jail -- which I was about to do soon as I got my neighbor, Etta, over here to hold the gun on him while I called Joe down at the station to come an' git him -- I recognized him from that drawing you people put up on the news just last night. Here in my kitchen was the rapist everybody was talking about, the guy who raped all those dumb, disarmed sissy city girls you probably hang out with, and I was gettin' right excited!

Newswhore: That you were going to kill the rapist?!

Amy: Goodness, NO! That I was going to help put him in prison after one of those dumb ladies identified him. I wanted that reward plus the bonus of knowing he'd be locked up for a good while with people who want to rape him! Heh heh. Get it?

Newswhore: Right. Then what happened?

Amy: Well, like I said, I told him to drop the crowbar and he started trying to tell me I was afraid of him and that I should put down my gun before somebody got hurt, and he started walking toward me with that crowbar, held up high over his head like he was about to hit me with it, you know.

Newswhore: So, then you murdered him?

Amy: Almost. What in tarnations makes you so eager to hear this story told, girl? Your manners are atrocious!

Newswhore: Sorry. Time is short. Please hurry and finish.

Amy: Fine. So he kept coming closer, slow but steady, so I cocked my Criminal Stopper (my nickname for my little friend) and told him I practice a whole lot with my gun, and that it was loaded with something really nasty, just for him, if he didn't stop right there and drop that dang crowbar. So, he kept coming, and I dropped him. There! You happy?!

Newswhore: So you killed a human being. You don't seem very remorseful.

Amy: Girl, have you been listening to a word I said? He broke into my house, destroyed my sweet Grandma's precious stained glass window, came at me with a crowbar like he was going to bash my brains in, and I knew for a fact that face was the same one you said was wanted for raping other women, which I see your reporters and the police have now confirmed. I warned him at least three times, and he was 8 feet away from knocking my head clean off my shoulders. Remorse? You bet I am remorseful. I regret that I didn't wax my linoleum last weekend like I'd planned to. Now I gotta replace it thanks to his tainted, rapist-blood on my white kitchen floor! I'll probably have to paint the wall, too, so I guess I could say I regret not taking advantage of that paint sale they had down at the hardware store last week. I coulda saved enough to buy a box of ammo for my little lifesaver.

Newswhore: My God! What about the poor family members he is leaving behind?! We're about to interview his grieving parents to let them tell their side of the story. Do you have anything to say to them?!

Amy: Sure. Teach the rest of your kids better manners, or tell 'em not to be stupid enough to come over to Amy Rican's house in the middle of the night with a crowbar in their hands.