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Michael Bevel wrote this
piece about a week before the
snipers were apprehended.
I y life is a montage
I of sniper moments.
Crossing the
I street, waiting at
lis
the bus stop, sneaking to
Starbucks for a eenn Vanilla
Frappuccino when I really
should be at my
desk, I think to
myself: “C an he
see me now? Is
there some
where to run?
How much will
it hurt if I have
■
to drop and roll
for cover?”
Michael Bevel and his three ferocious dogs fight bad guys in
I’m explain
the nation’s capital
ing all of this to
the three dogs who live in my
I decide I need some kind of loud running
house—how they need to be brave
commentary— something to prove to the
what with the shootings and all—
sniper in my basement that I’m a man to be
and, in the middle of warming up my
reckoned with. A macho m an’s macho man.
bowl of bad pasta, the power goes off.
O r that I at least have some dangerous dogs
MICHAEL
Like that.
with me.
BEVEL
O f course, the fuse box is in the
I begin talking about how ferocious the
basement. The fuse box is always in
dogs are and how they h av en ’t eaten yet
the basement when there’s a sniper on the
and, boy, w ouldn’t it be terrible if a stranger
loose and you’re in a house alone. But I’ve seen
were downstairs because these dogs would
too many scary movies in my time, and I know
just (th e G erm an shepherd lets loose w ith a
better. I’m savvy.
loud one) tear th a t stranger to shreds, so I
I’m not about to go down into the base
hope no one creepy like a killer or a mugger
ment because clearly the sniper has broken into
or a sniper is dow n here because all hell
my home, has cut the power and is now wait
could break loose.
ing in the dark in the hope that I’ll come
I’m assuming my action-hero monologue
traipsing down the stairs— tra-la-la, oh whatev
worked, because no one is down there. I check
er happened to the power?—and he’ll shoot me
the fuse box, flip some switches ineffectively
dead. In my own home. Because I am stupid.
and then race back upstairs in case the sniper
Instead, I lock the basement door, I gather
changes his mind.
the dogs, and we all go sit on the front porch in
The dogs and I again wait on the front
the dusk waiting for someone to come home.
porch, noticing for the first time the lack of
The silence after the power is out is different
streetlights, the dark houses in tidy rows up and
down our unlit street, hearing conversations
from the silence on a normal Thursday. T hat’s
because a normal Thursday isn’t really silent.
between neighbors about how dark it is with
out any power.
Electricity hums. It purrs. It makes the gentle
drone of the lamp by my rocking chair and the
Later, I light candles and sit on the couch,
quiet whir of the electric powered clock.
listening to the silence I hadn’t heard before,
Silence + Electricity = Noise. It also equals
knowing the dogs’ location by smell.
comfort. Silence - Electricity = Killer in the
My neighborhood is safe. I remind myself of
Basement. M ath has never been so terrifying.
that when I hear the distant pop of what might
be a gunshot or a car backfiring or kids with a
After 10 minutes of sitting on the porch
cache of firecrackers.
and trying to convince the dogs to look fierce,
I realize how silly this is. Miniature schnauzers
I remind myself of that when I wake up at
can’t look fierce.
2 o’clock in the morning to make the rounds
Anyway, the sniper isn’t in my house. I
of the locks and windows. My neighborhood
is safe, I tell my mom w hen she calls from
mean, he’s a sniper for Chrissakes— different
Medford and my brother when he calls from
motivation completely.
Still, the power is out, I’m the only one
Portland.
home, and if I’m-going to the basement, I’m
My neighborhood is safe, my house is safe,
going prepared. So I take all three dogs (the
the dogs and I in a blanket on the couch are
schnauzer, a clumsy A kita puppy and a G er
safe. And the night is very quiet. JF1
man shepherd w ith bad gas), a candle and
one of those long lighters used for barbecues
Gay boy MICHAEL B evel is a free-lance writer,
transplanted Oregonian and British adventuress
and fireplaces. If the sniper needs a cigarette
living in Washington, D .C . He can be reached at
lit or some mood lighting, I d o n ’t w ant to
mbevel2002@yahoo. com.
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