Archive-name: Miscell/zangara.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Zangara's (Kibo) Elegy
Here is the long awaited story involving Kibo. As previously
discussed, I would have Kibo's permission to use his name if he existed.
Also, if he existed he would have asked me to cross-post this to the
groups which I cross-posted to.
There is a quiz (Multiple choice) at the end. Please post results
to as many groups as you want.
Zangara's Elegy
"'He was a bloody tyrant and we brought him down. And I will not
have history think I did it for a bag of gold or in some kind of rabid
fit!`"
I looked curiously at this disheveled individual who was ranting
what I perceived to be nonsense. I turned to my guide, and hopefully
future employer. "What is he talking about?"
"Oh, he's no one. He thinks he's John Wilkes Booth, that's all,"
came the reply. I looked closer at my guide. I hadn't really studied
him up to this point. Suddenly however I knew that he posed me no
threat, and so I wished to know more about him.
"'Tell them how the Union can never recover from that vulgar, high
and mighty niggerlover, Never--!`"
I began going over what I knew about my guide. His name was Dr.
Charles Guiteau, and he was the director of the mental ward of the
University of Massachusetts Medical Center. I knew nothing about his
credentials, but that was not where my curiosity lay. I was interested
in his character, and since it was profession to know other peoples
thoughts, I was able to delve into his inner self even as he showed me
the building.
"Kibo, would you like to join us?" Dr. Guiteau asked the mental
patient. "This is Dr. Sam Byck, and I'm showing him around the
building."
"My name is not Kibo, it is Johnny Booth. Sure, I'll come along.
'Someone slew the tyrant, just as Brutus slew the tyrant`"
"We don't know his real name, so for a while we were calling him
Johnny. Then the doctor who was handling his case decided it was better
to call him something else. I'm not sure where the name Kibo came from
though," Dr. Guiteau rambled on. "By the way, if you come on Kibo will
be one of your patients. Dr. Czolgosz, the man who left for Buffalo,
was his doctor."
I had been half listening to this exchange until Dr. Guiteau's
last sentence. Suddenly my interest in this specimen was piqued. There
had to be some way of using him to my purposes. "I would be interested
in seeing his file," I replied, confident that my speech had not skipped
a beat.
"That will have to wait until you accept the position, which we
hope you do. It will certainly give our department prestige, something
we have been lacking for quite a while."
This man was showing all of his cards, wasn't he? I had nothing
to fear at all, in fact I had him wrapped around my finger. Kibo on the
other hand was someone I would have to learn. His next comment through
me for a loop.
"'Attention must be paid.`"
"That was from Death of a Salesman. Arthur Miller was born in
1915, and wrote that play in 1949. John Wilkes Booth died in 1865. Why
is he quoting Arthur Miller?" I frantically asked Dr. Guiteau, although
I'm sure he couldn't see the panic I was feeling.
Dr. Guiteau just chuckled. "Listen to him a little longer, maybe
you'll figure it out. Although if you do, you're a better detective
than I. I had to read his file to figure it out. I still don't know
how Dr. Czolgosz deduced it. Maybe Kibo told him, I don't know."
"'I'm an actor Lee, and I'm a good one. But Willy Loman is a part
that I could never play.`"
"Lee! Who the hell is Lee?!?" I blurted out anxiously.
Dr. Guiteau chuckled again. He just didn't understand, did he?
"Tell Dr. Byck who Lee is Kibo," Dr. Guiteau said quietly.
"Why Lee Harvey Oswald of course. Who else would I be talking to?
And DON'T CALL ME KIBO!!!! Please."
"Now don't get hostile," Dr. Guiteau turned back to me. "Do you
understand any better now?"
"Yes," I said, much more calmly. It was really a good think that
Guiteau was so clueless and Kibo was nuts, or I might have been in deep.
I made a mental note to control my emotions better than I had. "But I
still don't see how John Wilkes Booth could be talking to Lee Harvey
Oswald, and how he could be quoting Death of a Salesman."
"Keep listening, maybe you'll figure it out. If not, I guess
you'll have to accept the position so you can look at his file." He
chuckled again. God, that chuckle was getting annoying.
"'You should kill the President of the United States. . . . He
didn't come here to get shot. . . . Lee, when you kill a president it
isn't murder. Murder is a tawdry little crime. . . . when Julius Caesar
got killed--he was assassinated. . . . Ah, you know his name. Brutus
assassinated Caesar -- what?--two thousand years ago, and here's a high
school drop-out with a dollar twenty-five an hour job in Dallas, Texas,
who knows who he was. And they say fame is fleeting. . .`"
My clinical mind was itching to get Kibo in a padded room and go
to work on him. He intrigued me immensely. Dr. Guiteau on the other
hand was extremely simple, and I could manipulate him any way I saw fit.
So I told him, "Kibo here fascinates me enormously. He has stimulated
my professional curiosity to the point where I must see if I can help
him. Therefore I accept the position as your assistant here at U/Mass
Medical Center."
"Good, good, we are very excited for you to be on our staff." His
use of the word we was getting cumbersome, but I bore with him. "Let me
show you to your office. All of Dr. Czolgosz's files have been put in
there already." Now we were getting somewhere.
"'That's a Mannlicher-Carcano. 6.5 millimeter. Stopping range
900 yards. The sight's already been adjusted. . . . My name is John
Wilkes Booth, Lee.` Ahem! 'My name is John Wilkes Booth, Lee.`"
"Oh, that's my cue," said Dr. Guiteau. "He likes to have an
Oswald for this part. 'John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln.`"
"'Attention has been paid.`"
"He's trying to convince Oswald to kill Kennedy, isn't he?" I
asked Guiteau. "It's as if he's reading from a script."
"You are good. That's exactly what he's doing. Like I said, I
don't know how Dr. Czolgosz figured it out, but the things that Kibo
says in the guise of John Wilkes Booth are from a Broadway musical
called Assassins. He must have been exposed to it before he came here.
In fact Dr Czolgosz's theory is that Kibo was as sane as you or I when
he was exposed to it, and then some action shocked him into this
persona."
This will truly be an interesting subject.
* * * * *
"Now Kibo, this is going to be different from your sessions with
Dr. Czolgosz. First of--"
"Please don't call me Kibo. My name is Johnny Booth."
What the hell, what do I care. I'm going to undo all the progress
Czolgosz made on this bozo for my own purposes, so I might as well let
him have his way.
"Of course it is. When we are alone I will call you John. But
when we are in public, I must call you Kibo. Otherwise I might lose my
job. Now you wouldn't want that."
"No, of course I wouldn't. 'All you have to do is move your
little finger, and you can change the world.`"
"Now Johnny, let's make a deal. I will call you John when we are
alone. I will not badger you with questions, but we will play games.
You call me Sam, again only in private. In return you need to do some
things for me though. First, do not quote lines from that play while we
are alone in this office. Second, do not ever tell anyone what we do in
here. And third, when we are in public, allow me to call you Kibo. You
may correct others, but not me. This will show that I am succeeding
with you. I'm tired of seeing you used for research the way they used
you before, but if the hospital management found out that I had STOPPED
using you like a lab animal, then they will take me off of your case."
I'll have him eating out of my hand in no time. I'll look like a
genius. Heh, I already do look like a genius. I am a genius, only they
don't know the half of it. I amaze even myself sometimes.
"John, the first game we are going to play is word association.
Did you ever do this with Dr. Czolgosz?"
"Yes, Dr.- er, Sam. But I thought you said you weren't going to
badger me like Dr. Czolgosz."
"I'm not. This is going to be different, fun. First off, you are
going to say the first word. And the trick is that the word must start
with the last letter of the previous word. And the object is to stump
the other person. And you only get five seconds,no repeat words, and
nouns only. Are you ready? When I say so, you have five seconds, any
word. Go."
"Gun."
"Nut."
"Trap."
What, is you psychic too? "Plan."
"Novice."
That you are. And you are dealing with an "Expert."
"Tail. T-A-I-L."
That's what I've got you by. Now I'm going to teach you a
"Lesson."
"Nymphomaniac."
Now he's thinking. That's when I can get him. "Crusader."
"Religion."
There you go, now you're taking my lead. "Norm."
"Murder."
"Romance." What the hell am I doing? I MUST think before I open
my mouth. God, I'm a stupid shit. I am playing with HIS mind, not the
other way around.
"Exit."
Good, he didn't catch it. Of course he didn't catch it, he's
crazy. Besides, Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have caught it. "Tower." I
am far too clever for anyone to catch me.
"Razor."
What is your trick? Do you KNOW what's going on in my mind? Calm
down, of course not. "Rap." But damn, you're hitting a nerve. Maybe I
should just lose and end the game.
"Poison."
All right, you little punk, this game is ending. No wait, you
can't know. You're a fucking nutcake. You think you're John Wilkes
Booth. "Nonplus." And you think you can talk to Lee Harvey Oswald.
"Shower."
You stupid, fucking runt. Stop with the fucking words. No, I
will not lose to this crazy sonofabitch who thinks that a man who died
in 1865 can quote a man who was born in 1915. "Road."
"Death."
You think you're an assassin. Of course you're going to say
death. Don't think you can fool me. "Hew." Even if you do know what
I've done, there's no way you can prove it. Who'd believe a crazy fuck
like you.
"Wife."
Holy shit, you do know. The crazy fuck knows. Well there's no
way you can prove it. "Entity."
"Yellow."
I'm not yellow, you little shit. I'm the most courageous man on
the face of the planet. I'm alone in the same room as a man who is
proud to think he's an assassin. "Wasp." Not many men would take that
chance. And I'm not even scared.
"Phallus."
You pervert. And that just proves you have no clue, it was only
blind luck. "Ski."
"Inheritance."
Yeah, that's why I did it, so what. I only think you're playing
with me, but you have no idea of what you're saying. "Epithet." You're
just trying to win this stupid game.
"Trial."
There will never be a trial, you dumb fuck. "Loop." And even if
there was, I'd get off scott free.
"Police."
Are you kidding? The police are stupider than you are. They
actually consoled me when it happened. "Era." The stupid fucks
consoled my wife's murderer.
"Arrest."
No way, sonny. It has been five months, and they've gotten
nowhere. They think she committed suicide. "Trapeze." They are NOT
going to arrest me.
"Ewe. E-W-E."
"Earth." See, you have no idea. I'm the only one who know's and
I will NEVER confess.
"Hammer."
"How the hell do you do it?!? Yes, I killed my wife, Lee. Yes I
knocked her out with a hammer. Yes I cut her with a poison razor. Yes
I put her in the shower to look like suicide. Yes I did it to collect
all of her fathers inheritance. Yes, yes, yes!!!!"
Kibo was gone. I slumped in my chair. It was now a matter of
them believing a crazy wanna-be assassin or a distinguished doctor. I
still had nothing to worry about. Even when the officer was reading me
my rights I knew I was still invincible.
* * * * *
The sergeant was sitting across the table from me asking me
questions, and I was telling him the same old bullshit. The
accommodations weren't bad considering I was under arrest. Of course
they would have to release me soon, they had nothing on me. Just the
testimony of some crazy patient at the U/Mass Medical Center. I had
nothing to worry about. After all, my profession was minds, and I knew
the police believed me, and thought the crazy fuck, was just that, a
crazy fuck. The cop was just going through the motions as he asked me
if I had killed my wife, if I had confessed in that office, and even
what I thought of the mental stability of my accuser. That was the
fingered me. They did not think that I had done it.
A buzzer sounded and the sergeant picked up a phone. He listened
a moment. "Send him in," he said into the phone, and turned to me as he
hung up. "The chief is coming in."
The door opened and the chief came in. "We have no evidence to
hold you Dr. Byck. I'm sorry this all happened. Apparently the
arresting officers were unaware that your accuser was a patient, and
quite frankly we are desperate to find an explanation for your wife's
death, so. . ."
He let it drop there. "Oh, it really is quite alright," I said.
"I understand, and I wish I knew the truth about my wife's death. No
hard feelings."
"One thing though, Doctor," the chief continued. "We found this
audio cassette in Kibo's pocket. It seems to be a musical play of some
sort. I'd like for you to listen to it a moment."
The speakers in the room started to crackle from age. A raspy
sound started to emanate from them. "Yes, I killed my wife, Lee. Yes I
knocked her out with a hammer. Yes I cut her with a poison razor. Yes
I. . . ." Two officers restrained me as I tried to bolt from the room.
"There is one more thing, Dr. Byck," the chief said. "I'd like to
introduce you to Detective Giuseppe "Kibo" Zangara." The door opened
and there stood Kibo, the crazy fuck who had cornered me.
"Why, Kibo, why did you fuck me over?"
"'I did it to bring down the government of Abraham Lincoln and
avenge the ravaged south. . . . `"*
* The speech meant to emulate John Wilkes Booth is taken from the
musical Assassins by Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman
**QUIZ**
1) How should Kibo's name be pronounced?
a) Sauerkraut
b) Who the fuck cares?
c) Both
2) Why wasn't there any sex in the story?
a) To piss off the people in alt.sex.stories
b) Who the fuck cares?
c) Both
3) Does Kibo exist?
a) Yes
b) No
c) Both
C Squared
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