In Defense of the Spivvinses

The morning came. Susan was not quite comfortable. Nor were the Spivvins family. Just to raise spirits a bit, they took holly tea for breakfast. No solid foods. As said, if it came to shooting, they were far better off with nothing in the stomach.

There was no clock in the house. Sun rose slowly. After each of them had gone for a pee, they boiled another kettle of holly tea. They were sipping and just getting a little calmer when they heard a motorised sound. Police had come around. "I stay" said Susan, "you know what you have to be doing." They hurried towards the kitchen wall to the right. The smallest daughter was left to look through the window behind. All held handkerchiefs in the left hand, and knew what to do if needed.

The car - which was really a van - stopped in the yard, and a policeman honked. Heavily. More than once, twice, three times over. Five men stepped out - though this the Spivvins and Susan knew only somewhat later.

The doorbell rang. The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. It stopped ringing. "Have it your way!" called a voice.

Susan breathed more heavily as the door began to boom under the blows of strong uniformed policemen united in armed burglary with kidnapping intentions. She rose and picked up her bow, put the arrow on the string, but did not yet point it and draw the string back. As the door broke open she stood facing them. She saw three, and at once shouted: "you are breaking into peaceful people's homes without a cause!"

Now she recognised the foremost policeman - the one who had looked so evil and so small last time she was into archery. He recognised her too, as she could tell from his face. "Ah no ..." he said and put his hand on the pistol.

She drew the string back, and she let the arrow go - twang - as his hand and pistol were rising. A straight hit - chuck - in his arm. He yelled and let the pistol go. Next arrow - pointed more to the left, twang, chuck - hit the right hand policeman behind him in the right shoulder. Only the left hand policeman still had his right hand functional, and the small police officer was in front of him. "Turn!" he moaned as his pain allowed him to use his voice.

They did but shouldn't have. Susan pointed a third arrow - twang, chuck - in his butt. As the other policeman turned back again towards Susan, she was already out of arms range - behind a wall next to the kitchen door. "Your turn!" she yelled. Spivvins took his bow, rolled over on the floor in front of the hall, shot at that third policeman. Twang, chuck! A marksman he was, he hit the arm as well. And as the policeman ran back out, he too had - twang, chuck - an arrow in his butt.

"Tear gas," shouted Susan as the police deployed this. All fell down and used the handkerchiefs to protect their eyes. Spivvins rose and ran outward with the bow - and was - pang - immediately shot in the leg. One of the wounded men knew how to use his left hand with a pistol. He fell, but aimed another arrow to the one of two policemen who held the gas bottles. Twang, chuck. One gas bottle less to reckon with. The other guy turned and ran towards the car, where the first wounded were already waiting for him, twang chuck, he ran no more since he had an arrow through the knee from behind.

Meanwhile Susan had been running bent over as well as she could under the tear gas. Pang, she had a wound in upper arm, but only superficially. Though she was crying her eyes out from the gas, and the pain in the arm, she aimed a last shot at the unlucky first policeman who had - twang chuck - a sore arrow wound in his left arm too now. He dropped the pistol.

Eight arrows, five policeman wounded. One pistol shot, only Susan wounded. But not disarmed. She yelled "leave the car" and pointed a ninth arrow at the men, and Spivvins pointed a tenth at them from the ground. They could have shot back or tried more gas, but had had enough. This was not their usual fare when breaking up families. They opeyed and left the police van. As fast as their wounds allowed.