Opening Montage
Music: "Who Says You Can't Go Home" by Bon Jovi, featuring Jennifer Nettles
First shot is Quinn seated on a train. Jim takes the seat next to her and they start talking. Cut to a shot of Quinn and Jim's wedding five years later. Then cut to a hospital room a few years later and we see an exhausted Quinn and smiling Jim holding newborn triplets. Cut to present day and we see the triplets now middle school aged. Teddy is reading a book while Tommy and Timmy fight over the video game controller. Cut to Teddy rolling his eyes disdainfully at his immature brothers. Next, cut to a shot of Jim working on a car while a tripod mounted camera records the whole thing. Next shot is Quinn making a S'mores 'n' Pores video in the kitchen. Next shot is Jim chatting with Jamie, Chuck and Kevin over beer while Brittany rebuffs an advance by Daryl in the background. Next shot is Jamie teaching a history class at Lawndale High. He notices that the current quarterback is making out with his cheerleader girlfriend in class, causing Jamie to have a DeMartino-style meltdown. Next, we see Teddy hanging out at the park with a girl his age who is visibly of mixed European/East Asian heritage. They watch the 'normal' people with visible disdain, implying that this girl is the Jane to Teddy's Daria. Next, we see Timmy making out with Q Ruttheimer while three girls are practically throwing themselves at Tommy. Final shot is Quinn, Jim and the triplets standing on the front lawn and then being joined by the rest of the regular cast. They all smile at the audience. The following caption appears under them...
Lawndale
this episode:
"A Real American"
written by
WildDogJJ
Act I
Thompson House, day...
Jim, Jamie, Chuck and Chris were in Kevin's driveway while Kevin showed off the new license plate on his Dodge Ram. The license plate was plastered in the stars and stripes of the American flag. In addition to the usual features of his truck's license plate (number, state, county) were the following words in patriotic flourish:
A Real American
The other guys were impressed. Jamie was the first to speak.
"Dude, you got one of those new Real American license plates!"
Kevin bragged in response.
"That's right, Jeremy!"
"I'm Jamie," he said for the billionth time.
"I'd get me one of those," said Chris, "but my cars always covered in mud, so no one would ever see it."
"I'd like to get one of those for the Love Machine," added Chuck, "A Real American license plate would be...GRRR, feisty!"
The other guys laughed. Even Kevin got the joke.
"Cool!"
"I know I'm getting one for the Camaro," said Jim, "and with Quinn's birthday coming up, I might as well get one for her Cadillac."
Jamie frowned.
"I can't get one. I looked at the requirements. You have to present proof that you were born in the US."
"Like," said Kevin, "You were born in the US, Jerome."
"Jamie," said an annoyed Jamie, "And I only meet that first requirement. The other is that your vehicle's made by an American manufacturer. Since my motorcycle's a Kawasaki, I don't meet the second requirement."
Jim spoke reassuringly.
"Relax, man. You can ride shotgun in my Camaro after I get mine." Jim paused before giving into the urge to tease. "Just duck whenever a real American passes."
Everyone but Jamie laughed. After a few seconds, Jamie joined in the laughter.
"Good one, Jim."
Home office, later...
Quinn and Jim were going through all of their old records. Jim saw a document that read at the top:
State of Texas
Certificate of Live Birth
Jim held up the paper and showed it to Quinn.
"Found your birth certificate, Quinn."
Quinn looked at her birth certificate and read it aloud.
"Child's Name: Quinn Louise Morgendorffer. Sex: Female. Date: January 30, 1983. Place of Birth: Highland Texas. Mother: Helen Katherine Morgendorffer, nee Barksdale. Father: Jacob Henry Morgendorffer."
She looked up.
"Yep, that's my birth certificate alright. Any luck finding yours?"
Jim shook his head.
"Nope. You didn't happen to find it in the papers you're going through, did you?
Quinn shook her head.
"No, but somehow your brother's is in here."
Quinn handed Jim Chris's birth certificate. Jim proceeded to read it aloud.
"State of North Carolina Certificate of Live Birth. Child: Christopher Antonio Carbone. Sex: Male. Date: November 5, 1979. Place of Birth: Ft. Bragg Army Base Hospital, Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Mother: Gina Maria Carbone, nee Sorrenti. Father: Anthony Santino Carbone."
Quinn asked, "Why do we have Chris's birth certificate?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Have you seen the sorry state he keeps his house in!? He'd lose that thing under a pile of garbage in a heartbeat. That's why I'm holding onto it for safekeeping."
Jim then turned his attention back to the documents.
"Dammit, my birth certificate's gotta be around here somewhere. I need it for that Real American license plate. Otherwise, Canadians could just come down and get those plates."
A few hours later...
Jim and Quinn have finished their search for his birth certificate and are visibly frustrated.
"I can't freaking believe this," said Jim, "Where the hell is my birth certificate? I need it to prove I was born in the base hospital at Fort Bragg. They're not just gonna take my word that I was born October 10, 1981, in North Carolina."
"I've searched everywhere," said Quinn, "I've found my birth certificate, your brother's, the boys! Why the hell don't we have yours?"
Jim pulled out his cellphone and pressed one of the contacts.
"It's a long shot, but maybe my mother knows where it is."
A rural village in Tuscany, a few seconds later...
Gina was sitting on the patio looking at the stars while sipping some wine from the family vineyard. Suddenly, her niece, Elvira, came out.
"Madrina, telefone!"*
*(Godmother, telephone)
Gina went into the house and entered her living room, where she picked up the phone.
"Ciao?"
"Hey, Mom," said Jim on the other end.
Gina smiled.
"Jim, how are you, bambino mio!?"
"Mom," Jim admitted, "I hate to tell you this, but this isn't a social call."
Gina looked worried.
"Jim, are you alright?"
"Yeah," he reassured his mother, "I'm calling because I was wondering if you have a copy of my birth certificate."
Gina's face lost all color. She stood in horrified silence.
"Mom," said Jim, "Mom, you still there?"
"SI," Gina blurted out nervously.
Jim was puzzled.
"Mom, you okay?"
"Yes," Gina nervously replied, "Um...I don't have it!"
"I figured," said Jim, "What with you living in a foreign country and all."
Gina interrupted.
"I...um...Igottago!"
She frantically hung up.
Meanwhile, in Lawndale...
Jim was visibly puzzled.
"That was weird!"
He then let out a resigned sigh, knowing who he'd have to try next.
Colonial Village Apartments, evening...
Jim was knocking on the door of an apartment. His father, Tony, answered. Tony was holding his nineteen-month-old son, GJ.
"Whaddaya want, Bad Jim?"
Jim rolled his eyes.
"Nice to see you too, Dad."
"Make it fast," Tony barked, "The Jim I actually like is trying to walk, an' I'll be damned if I don't get to record it."
"Dad," said Jim, "when you were moving up here from Virginia did you happen to come across my birth certificate?"
"Your birth certificate," said Tony in annoyance, "Why the hell would I have that!?"
"Well," Jim explained, "I don't have it, and neither does Mom. I figured you must have it, since you are my father."
"Well, I don't," Tony barked, "If I did, I'd have thrown it out when GJ was born to make room for his."
Just then, GJ moved his feet.
"JENNIFER," Tony yelled, "GJ'S TRYING TO WALK AGAIN! GET THE CAMCORDER, WOMAN!"
With that, Tony slammed the door in Jim's face, to the latter's visible annoyance.
Casa Carbone, later...
Jim and Quinn were sitting up in bed, preparing to turn in for the night. Jim let out a frustrated groan.
"I can't believe neither of my parents have my birth certificate"
"I can believe your father not keeping it," said Quinn, "but I'm surprised your mother doesn't have a copy."
"I'm not," said Jim, "When Dad sent her back to Italy after the divorce, she had to pack up fast. I always assumed that she gave it to you."
"Funny," said Quinn, "because I'd always assumed she'd give it to you."
"What I don't get," said Jim, "Is why Mom was being so cagey over the phone when the subject came up. Now that I think about it, Dad was even quicker to slam the door in my face than usual."
Added Quinn, "Now that you mention it, both of your parents are acting like they're hiding something."
"I've got that feeling too," said Jim, "but what? Whatever it is, it has something to do with my birth certificate."
Quinn gasped as one possibility occurred to her.
"What if they're hiding that you're not actually their son!?"
Jim raised an eyebrow.
"No more Lifetime dramas for you."
"I know it sounds like the plot of a lame TV movie," said Quinn, "But what if you're actually adopted and they don't want you to know?"
"There's no way I'm adopted," Jim insisted, "Dad hates adoption."
"Exactly," said Quinn, "Which would explain why he loves GJ, who we know for a fact is his flesh and blood, while your parentage is...questionable."
Jim sat there looking thoughtful. He had to admit that his wife's theory isn't as far-fetched as it seems.
"What if you're right," Jim said with a sigh, "What if I am adopted?"
"Well, Jim," said Quinn, "It would explain both your father's cruelty towards you and why both of your parents are so secretive about your birth certificate."
"How do I even know that Jim's my name," said a rattled Jim, "For all I know, I could really be named something that's easy to make fun of."
Ruttheimer house, the next day...
Chuck and Jim were in the living room. Jim was explaining the situation.
"...and after taking a second to think about it, I realized that Quinn's theory actually makes sense."
"Let me get this straight," said Chuck, "You think that you might be adopted, and your parents are trying to keep you from finding out?"
Jim nodded. "That's why I came here. With your skill at hacking, I imagine it wouldn't take long for you to uncover the truth. Besides, adopted or no, I still need that birth certificate for my Real American license plate."
Chuck stood up.
"Follow me."
The basement, a short time later...
Chuck was seated at one of his computers. Even though he has a home office, he keeps a secondary set of computers that only he can access in the basement. This is mostly so the kids won't see a search history that reveals a LOT of visits to PornHub and OnlyFans.
Jim was pacing behind Chuck while the latter worked his magic.
"Well," said Jim, "If I am adopted, then my real parents could be anybody." He smiled as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, what if my real father is someone I idolized as a kid, like Dale Earnhardt or Eddie Van Halen!?"
Chuck let out a dismissive chuckle.
"Yeah, 'cause famous athletes and musicians are always giving up their kids for adoption."
"Well," said Jim, "Eddie was a rock god during the era of excess. It's possible I could be the product of one of the countless one-night stands he was known to have while on tour."
"Jim," said Chuck, "What if you're the son of someone infamous, like Ted Bundy?"
"Like that's any worse than being the son of Tony Carbone," said Jim with a chuckle.
Chuck got up from his computer.
"Okay, I'm at the last firewall. I need your Social Security number to bypass it."
As Chuck looked away, Jim sat at the computer and entered his social.
"There, done."
Jim got up and Chuck retook his spot by the computer. After a few more seconds and keystrokes...
"Bingo, I'm in!"
Jim was afraid to look as Chuck watched the former's birth certificate appear on the screen.
"Well," said Chuck, "You aren't the son of anyone famous. According to this, your parents are in fact Tony and Gina."
Jim was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.
"Well, at least I can keep loving my mother."
He then took a seat at the computer and read the stats aloud.
"Child: James Giovanni Carbone. Sex: Male. Date of Birth: October 10, 1981. Mother: Gina Maria Carbone, nee Sorrenti. Father: Anthony Santino Carbone."
Chuck interrupted.
"Turns out you're not adopted after all."
It was at this point that something caught Jim's attention.
"What the hell!?"
That something was...
Place of Birth:
Paris, French Republic.
Jim was horrified.
"NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
He was born in France, not the USA, a fate worse than death for any patriotic American.
Act II
Colonial Park Apartments, evening...
Jim was angrily pounding on the door to his father's apartment. The reason for Jim's anger was his recent discovery of his true origin. Tony opened the door and glared at his son.
"What the hell's gotten inta yas, ya goddamn waste o' sperm!?"
Jim actually shoved his father aside, let himself in and closed the door behind him. Tony was too surprised to react.
"Dad," Jim growled as he pointed an accusing finger at Tony, "I just found out why you and Mom kept my birth certificate from me! Why didn't you tell me, asshole!?"
Tony regained his composure.
"Okay, fine," Tony huffed as he got in Jim's face, "YOU WERE ADOPTED! WORST 200 BUCKS I'D EVER SPENT! Coulda gotten me Chinese twins for fifty!"
Jim immediately clapped back.
"THAT'S NOT THE TRUTH AND YOU KNOW IT! I found my birth certificate online. I was born in Paris, France...FROM YOUR SEED!"
Tony stepped back and let out a defeated sigh.
"Dammit!"
Jim folded his arms and gave his father a stern look.
Sitting on the couch, Tony proceeded to explain.
"I was always afraid this day would come. Maybe it's my fault for loving your mother...back when she was still hot enough to love."
Paris, France, 1981...
A young Tony, with a visibly pregnant Gina in tow, was walking towards the Louvre.
Your mother had always wanted to take a romantic vacation in Paris. Since I had some leave an' you weren't due for another couple o' weeks, I decided to take her on a romantic two-week trip to the City o' Lights.
Young Tony and Young Gina stared admiringly at the Mona Lisa. After leaving the Louvre, they visited Notre Dame Cathedral.
It was magical. We went to The Louvre, Notre Dame, all of the sights.
The next day, Tony and Gina were taking a river cruise on the Seine. After this, they went to the Eiffel Tower and admired the view. Suddenly, Gina bent over in agony.
We were at the Eiffel Tower when suddenly, your mother's water broke.
Tony and Gina rushed to the elevator and took it back down to ground level. Once on the street, Tony hailed a taxi. He paid the cab driver extra to disregard traffic laws. Finally, they reached a hospital next to the Arc d'Triumph.
We managed to get to this nice hospital right by the Arc d'Triumph in time. Three days later, we took a premature bundle of you back to The States.
A visibly disgruntled Tony was waiting by the hospital entrance. When Gina emerged with the newborn baby Jim, they walked to a cab that was waiting to take them to DeGalle Airport (which was called Orly Airport at that time).
Your mother and I never told you the truth because we didn't think you were man enough to handle it. Since you were born in France...YOU AREN'T!
Gina held the door open for Tony before following him into the cab.
Lawndale, NJ, 2025...
A now eighty-two-year-old Tony has just finished telling a now forty-three-year-old Jim the story. Jim didn't know what to make of all of this.
"Well," said a head-scratching Jim, "Thanks for not leaving me there...I guess."
"Don't thank me, Froggy," Tony growled, "Thank your mother. She insisted. I only went along 'cause I thought raising a bastard French baby was an appropriate punishment for her stupidity."
Jim made no effort to defend his mother as actually hearing the story had drained the fight from him. He just sighed.
"Jim," said Tony, "Don't tell your mother about this. She's never forgiven herself for birthing you outside o' the good ol' US of A. It'd kill her if she knew that you know."
"Um...okay," said Jim. He then looked at his watch. "Um...I gotta go. Later, Dad."
"See ya 'round, son," said Tony as Jim let himself out.
Once the door was closed, Tony walked up and watched Jim leave through the peep hole. Once his son was gone, Tony whipped out his cell and made a call.
"Eric, it's Tony," he said, "Remember that thing we were supposed to do in Paris but never did?" Tony started to laugh as he listened. "No, we did that. We did the hell outta that! I'm talking 'bout...Ortega!" Tony nodded as he listened. "Tha's right, buddy! Get the old team together, it's time we finish the mission!"
Casa Carbone, the next day...
Jim, Kevin, Jamie and Chuck were in Jim's basement man cave watching football and drinking beer.
"Hey, Jim," said Kevin, "They got good beer in France?"
Jim raised an eyebrow.
"How would I know?"
Kevin smirked.
"Oh, that's right! You Frenchies prefer wine!"
Added Jamie, "So, Jim the American badass is actually a froggy! How 'bout that!"
Both Jamie and Kevin erupted in laughter while Jim angrily glared at Chuck.
"Dammit, Chuck," Jim growled, "YOU TOLD THEM!"
"I had to tell someone," said Chuck.
"Aw, don't be so sensitive," said Jamie in a condescending tone.
Kevin mockingly said, "Dude, you Frenchies really are...um...uhh...what's that word for a man who acts like a woman...homo?"
"Effeminate," said Chuck.
Added Jamie, "Wouldn't be surprised if Jim is a homo. After all, he's French!"
Jim scowled as his friends all laughed.
"Dude," Kevin teased, "Like, what's that smell?"
"Jim," said Jamie, "He's French."
"Yeah," said Kevin, "He doesn't bathe!"
The laughter continued as Jim angrily stared daggers at the assholes he calls his friends.
The next day...
Jim was walking towards his Camaro to run some errands. Suddenly, something caught his eye.
"What the hell!?"
Someone had pasted a "VIVE LA FRANCE" bumper sticker on his Camaro.
"DAMMIT, GUYS!"
The road, sometime later...
Jim was driving when a large, American made pickup truck came up on his bumper and angrily honked at him. The truck even bumped Jim for good measure before pulling up beside him at a traffic light. While waiting for the light to change, the driver of the truck motioned for Jim to lower his window. Jim sighed as he lowered his window.
"Whaddaya want?"
"I want you to go back to your own country, frog boy," said the driver as he gave Jim the middle finger.
Before Jim could retort, the light turned green, and the truck sped off. Jim let out a defeated sigh.
Casa Carbone, later...
Jim was talking to Quinn about what's going on.
"I can't even drive like an American anymore," said a forlorn Jim, "I think a muscle car might be too much for a French man to handle."
Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Aren't you overreacting," she said, "So you were born in France, big deal."
"You wouldn't say that if everyone used it as an excuse to harass you," said Jim, "They all think I'm some effeminate snob who won't stand up for himself just because I was born in France."
"Jim," said Quinn, "It's actually cool that it turns out you're really French. I mean, you should've seen the jealous look on Sandi's face when I told her I'm doing a French guy."
Jim visibly did not appreciate his wife's lame attempt to cheer him up. Before he could say anything, however, the triplets came in.
"Dad," said Tommy, "There's a rumor at school that you're actually French. It true?"
Jim sighed.
"Yes, boys, I'm afraid it is."
"Awesome," said Tommy, "Not only am I the QB, but I've got a French dad. I'm gonna get more hotties than I know what to do with!"
"Funny," Teddy deadpanned, "I could've sworn every girl in school was already throwing herself at you."
"I can't believe it," said an excited Timmy, "I knew my love of culture and fine arts came from somewhere! Dad, what was it like being a kid in Paris?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Timmy, I was three days old when we left."
"You ever go back," asked Tommy.
"As a matter of fact," said Quinn, "Your father and I went to Paris once. That's actually where he bought the ring he used when he proposed."
Added Jim, "Your mother was working for Grandpa Jake's consulting business at that time and the trip was a gift from a grateful client." He then frowned. "I didn't know I was actually from there when I went. I only know France from the perspective of a tourist, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Come on, Dad," said Timmy, "I've always wanted to try being a French artist!"
That angered Jim.
"THAT'S IT!"
He angrily went to his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
Casa Sorrenti, Tuscany...
Gina was in the kitchen stirring pasta for dinner when the phone rang. She answered.
"Ciao?"
"Mom," Jim practically growled over the phone, "We need to talk!"
Gina was puzzled by the clear hostility in her son's voice.
"About?"
Jim explained. "I just found out that I was actually born in Paris, and I am NOT happy about it!"
Gina sighed. "I'm sorry, bambino mio! I never told you because I know how much being American means to you."
Jim wasn't having it. "Spare me! Dad gave me the whole story! I was born in Paris because you just had to have a romantic getaway and didn't care that you were nine months pregnant!"
Gina was outraged.
"WHAT!? TONY'S TRYING TO BLAME THIS ON ME! Going to Paris was HIS idea!"
Meanwhile, in Lawndale...
Jim gasped in shock at his mother's revelation.
"WHAT!?"
Over the phone, Gina said, "We were there because your father and one of his Delta Force teammates actually dragged me on a mission!"
Jim gasped in shock. Then, he spoke.
"Well, then," said an irate Jim, "One of you is lying and..." The look on Quinn and the boy's faces made Jim immediately backpedal. "Who am I kidding? I know it's him."
Gina proceeded to tell the real story.
Paris, France, 1981...
Young Tony, Gina and a blonde man in Aviator sunglasses were walking towards the Parisian Oprea house.
At that time, Nicaragua was under the control of the Sandinistas, who were pro-Soviet. France's President at the time, Francois Mitterand, was a socialist who wanted to cultivate better relations with the Communist Block. To that end, he'd invited the Sandinista leader, Daniel Ortega, to France on an unofficial state visit. In furthurance of President Reagan's militantly anti-Soviet policies Delta Force was given a covert mission to assassinate Ortega during the trip. It was the first time the US government had ordered the assassination of a political leader since the Vietnam War. Your father's team was given the assignment. So, he dragged me along with him and one of his teammates, Eric Price.
As they walked towards the entrance, Gina gave her husband the stink eye.
"Dammit, Tony, I can't believe you're making me do this!"
"Look," said Tony, "Two American men traveling alone would be suspected of the deed and we need to kill the enemy in a way that doesn't lead back."
Added Eric, "No one's gonna suspect a vacationing family. That's why you're here."
"Now, come on," said Tony as he yanked Gina by the arm, "And don't blow our cover, just keep looking knocked up."
Gina sighed.
Inside, a short time later...
Tony, Eric and Gina were making their way to a staircase that led up to the second floor, where the private boxes are.
"Okay," said Tony, "Remember the plan?"
Gina sighed. "I fake contractions so security will let us pass through."
"Bingo," said Tony, "Once that's done, we find an empty booth. Then, I scout for the booth where President Mitterand and that commie son-of-a-whore Ortega are seated. Once I have eyes on..."
Eric continued. "I assemble the sniper rifle we hid in Gina's shoulder bag. After that, Tony, I wait for your go."
Tony nodded. "Once we take Ortega out, we make a break for the ladies room. Gina, remember what to do next?"
Gina nodded. "When the security guards come in, I pretend to be in labor pains while you and your 'brother' pretend to be freaking out."
"Exactly," said Tony, "This way, instead of detaining us, they'll take us to the hospital. By the time the froggies figure out what's going on, we're already on a plane back home."
One of the private boxes, a short time later...
Gina was watching the opera while Tony scanned the other boxes with binoculars and Erica attached a silencer to his custom sniper rifle. Finally, Tony saw Mitterand and Ortega in a box across the auditorium enjoying the show.
"Prepare to die, commie," Tony muttered under his breath.
Eric raised the rifle and looked down the scope. Soon, he had Ortega in his crosshairs.
"I have a clear shot at Ortega's head."
"Take the shot," said Tony.
Eric began to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly...
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Gina yelled in pain as her water broke. Fortunately, the sound to the tenor singing on stage drowned out the agonized cry. Unfortunately, it startled Eric. Because of this, instead of hitting it's intended target,the bullet riccocheted off the ceiling and wound up killing the oprea singer on stage.
"SHIT," Eric shouted, "WE'RE COMPROMISED!"
"MOVE IT," Tony barked as they rushed Gina towards the door.
The hallway, later...
President Mitterrand's security detail was searching for the would-be assassin. A team of security guards passed by the ladies' restroom. They were too far away by the time a baby's cries could be heard coming from inside said restroom.
Casa Carbone, 2025...
Jim continued to listen to his mother tell the story over the phone.
"oh...my...GOD," said a horrified Jim, "I WAS BORN IN A FRENCH TOILET STALL!"
"Yes," said Gina in a voice that oozed shame and regret. "Your father was right about one thing,though," she continued, "Because I was with them and had a newborn baby in my arms, no one in the security detail suspected that your father and Eric were the assassins. In fact, Mitterand found my cover story so touching that I recieved post-natal care from his personal physician."
Jim stood there in stunned silence. Not only was he born on foreign soil in a public restroom, but it was under circumstances that made him an unwitting accessory to a government sanctioned assassination attempt. It was a lot to take in.
Lawndale VFW, evening...
Tony was in a back room meeting with the other members of his old Delta Force assault team. They were seated at a round table looking at maps and building schematics. Going clockwise around the table from Tony was Eric Price, now a balding and skinny eighty-year-old with a hunched posture. The next man at the table was Wayne Morgan, a frail seventy-five-year-old with think rimmed glasses. The next man seated at the table was Bud Johnson, an overweight seventy-four-year-old with a bad combover. The last man at the table was Lenny Smith, a seventy-seven-year-old black man who had a portable oxygen tank with him due to the COPD incurred by six decades of chain-smoking filter less Camel cigarettes. One could clearly tell that these guys are no longer the badass commandos that they were in the eighties. Tony, of course, was too stubborn to admit that none of them (himself included) have what it takes anymore.
"Damn, it's good to have the old team back together again," said Tony, "'Cept for Gene, who just had to go and have that fatal heart attack five years ago."
"To Gene," said Eric as he raised his beer can. The other guys joined him in a toast.
"ANY TIME, ANY PLACE, ANY WAY!"*
*(Delta Force's unofficial motto.)
Tony then got down to business.
"Alright, boys. Operation Second Chance is about to commence! Now, we failed to get Daniel Ortega back in '81. Now, we're gonna go to Nicaragua an' finish the job."
"Man," said Eric, "I can't wait to kill that commie son-of-a-bitch!"
Tony egged Eric on.
"KILL, ERIC, KILL!"
"HOORAH!"
"Now," Tony continued as he pointed to a map of Nicaragua, "One of the Contras we trained back in the eighties, Manuel Sanchez, has gotten us schematics of the Presidential Mansion." Tony pointed to the schematics before continuing. "We can use these positions of Ortega's home for penetration and exfil. Manuel has also gotten me a breakdown of Ortega's daily routine and can help us get to the place without drawing attention." Tony then pointed to map of the Hampton Roads metropolitan area in southeastern Virginia. "Saturday night, we rendezvous with Manuel in Yorktown, in front of the visitor's center at Yorktown Battlefield. From there, we go to the Yorktown waterfront, where the National Park Service keeps two boats docked. One's a replica of one of the ships used in 1781 to blockade Chesapeake Bay. The other's a modern passenger craft that operates daily river cruises for tourists. That second one's seaworthy and Manuel's an experienced boat operator. We'll steal the tourboat and sail down to Nicaragua. Once we arrive, Manuel will lead us to Ortega's compound and furnish us with fake passports and documents."
"Soun.." Lenny suddenly hacked and coughed. "Gi...choke...Gimmie a minute." Lenny then placed his small oxygen tank and mask over his face.
"What I think Lenny was trying to say," said Wayne, "Is that you seem to have this all in order."
Bud then asked a question. "We goin' to Virginia in your truck?"
"Hell no," said Tony, "We can't use our own vehicles, an' I still haven't figured out how to keep the authorities off our back long enough to steal the boat. Also, when the President of Nicaragua gets killed in his own home it's gonna make the news. We need a patsy to cover our tracks."
Before they could brainstorm any further, there was a knock on the door.
"HIDE THE EVIDENCE," Tony ordered.
They all stashed the battle plans under the table, from where they got out playing cards and poker chips. They placed the cards and chips on the table, creating the illusion that they were playing poker rather than plotting an act of terrorism. Tony then made his way to the door and peaked out the hole.
"Damn," he growled, "It's my son. The one who made us fail our mission by being born, the little shit."
Tony unlocked and opened the door. Without preamble, Jim got right in his father's face.
"Dammit, Dad," Jim barked, "Mom told me everything. Paris, the French Oprea, trying to kill the President of Nicaragua!"
"So," said Tony in a defiant tone, "The bitch squealed, did she? Well, that's what insubordinate bitches do!"
Jim was NOT having it. "SHUT UP! It's your fault I'm not an American by birth! It's your fault I can't drive my Camaro anymore! IT'S YOUR FAULT EVERYONE EXPECTS ME TO BE A STUCK UP WEAKLING WHO DOESN'T BATHE!"
Tony was about to lay into Jim when he suddenly got an idea. He immediately changed his expression to the most convincing sad face, shedding a crocodile tear for good measure.
"D...Dammit, Jim, you think you're the o...sniff...only one who has a hard time dealing with this!?"
Jim was stunned.
"D...Dad!?"
Tony continued his regretful father act.
"My biggest regret," said Tony in a sad tone, "Is that you, my younger son, were born outside the good old US of A! If I could just shove you back in your mother and have you born again on US soil, I would!" He then put a hand on Jim's shoulder and spoke in a tone so convincing that even Daria would've bought it. "Jim, I'm so sorry."
Jim was so moved by the seeming sincerity that it didn't even occur to him that his father was faking.
"You...You're apologizing!?"
Tony nodded and gave Jim the most convincing puppy dog eyes.
"I...Dad, I never knew," said Jim, "I...I never even suspected that this has been eating you up all these years."
Tony then extended the fake olive branch.
"Jim, lemme make it up to yas. You doin' anything this weekend?"
Jim shook his head. "No."
Tony made his pitch.
"Whaddaya say we take you down to Virginia this weekend? Jamestown, Colonial Williamsburg, Yorktown. Expose you to this country's roots in a way that'll make you obsessed with the ideals of the American Revolution. We'll even go down in a Super Duty truck. Make a real American outta you."
Jim bought this hook, line and sinker.
"You're on, Dad! I am so in!"
Tony then sealed the deal by pulling Jim into a loving embrace.
"Great, son! Pick you up Friday afternoon?"
"It's a date, Dad," said Jim as he returned the hug. After a few seconds, father and son released each other.
"Anyway," said Jim, "I'll let you guys get back to your card game. See you Friday, Dad!"
They exchanged waves as Jim made his way to the door. Once he was gone, Tony walked up to the door and locked it. Once that was done, Tony faced his friends with an evil smirk on his face.
"Boys, we've got our patsy!"
Act III
Carter County Gun Club, Friday morning...
Jim was with Tony, Eric, Wayne, Bud and Lenny at the shooting range. Jim squeezed off a few rounds from his Beretta handgun. He then pulled up the target. The shots were grouped in two places, the center of the silhouettes head and the center of the chest. Tony, rather than get jealous and challenge Jim to a shoot off, smiled proudly.
"Damn proud of ya, son," said Tony.
"Thanks, Dad," said Jim, "You were right, a morning at the shooting range is a great way to start off my Americanization!"
"You really wanna be Born American," said Tony, "Use this!"
Jim gasped in shock as Tony offered his own handgun to Jim, a Colt 1911 combat pistol from his Army days. This gun actually had some custom modifications that increased the gun's stopping power and a custom safety that made accidental discharge impossible. These modifications were done during Tony's time in Delta Force. This was possible because the headquarters of every Tier 1 Special Forces unit (Delta, Seal Team 6, etc. ) includes an armory that specializes in customizing weapons for special operations.
"You...you want me to shoot your gun," said a stunned Jim.
"Well," said Tony, "We're tryin' to make a real American outta ya, aren't we. Why not fire off a gun made in America?"*
(Berettas are Italian. Actually, it's interesting that after the mid-1980's the military replaced the Colt 1911 with the Beretta 92 as its standard sidearm and recently replaced the Beretta with the Swiss made Sig-Sauer.)
Jim accepted Tony's gun with a smile. While he was busy aiming the weapon down range, Tony took a pencil out of his pocket. With quick slide of hand, Tony slid Jim's Beretta into a plastic bag being held by Bud, who promptly took it away. By the time Jim was done shooting, he noticed that his Beretta wasn't on the counter where he'd left it.
"Where's my gun?"
"This place has a shop that deep cleans guns," Tony lied, "An' I even rented storage lockers sos we can leave 'em here instead of stopping back home before heading down to Virginia."
Jim was so happy to be bonding with his father that he didn't suspect anything (like his own father setting him up to take the fall for an act of international terrorism).
Williamsburg, VA, Saturday morning...
Jim, Tony, Eric, Lenny, Bud and Wayne stood in front of the Wren Building on the Campus of William and Mary. Jim stared in awe.
"This is Thomas Jefferson's alma mater," said the awestruck Jim.
"Tha's right, Jim," said Tony.
Later...
The guys were now walking down Duke of Gloucester Street in the heart of Colonial Williamsburg.
"Sorry you can't see any reenactments, Jim," said Eric.
"That's okay," said Jim, "It's January. Besides, we can still take guided tours and visit buildings."
"Speaking of which," said Tony as he pointed, "There's the old King's Arms Tavern."
Inside King's Arms Tavern, a short time later...
Jim smiled as the guys took his picture in front of one of the rooms. A plaque above the door read "George Washington Slept Here".
Palace Green, later...
The guys approached the old Governor's Palace.
"Let's take the tour," said Tony, "On me."
Jim whipped out his debit card. "No, on me. After all, it's the least I can do."
As Jim went to the ticket booth, Tony and his team poke amongst themselves.
"Tony, you sure 'bout this," asked Lenny.
"'Course I'm sure," said Tony, "We keep buttering him up 'til it's time to make our move so's he won't suspect a thing."
At this point, Jim returned with the tickets. He hadn't heard his father and the other guys talking about their little scheme and thus remains blissfully unaware that they're planning to frame him for terrorism.
"Got the tickets, Dad," said Jim.
"Let's roll," said Tony as they made their way to the Palace.
Yorktown Battlefield, later...
The guys were walking among the recreated trenches from the 1781 Siege of Yorktown. Jim was amazed.
"This is where it happened," said Jim, "This is where we finally won our independence from Britain!"
Thomas Moore House, Yorktown, later...
The guys approached the two-story colonial farmhouse.
"This is where the Terms of Surrender were negotiated," said Jim.
Yorktown Victory Monument, later still...
The guys all stared in reverence at a tall white stone column with a small statue of Lady Liberty on top with her arms stretched out. At the base of the monument was a large plaque. Jim read the plaque aloud.
"This monument is a shrine to the triumph of Liberty over despotism, achieved here on October 19th, 1781, when America secured her independence by bringing what was then the mightiest army in the world to its knees."
Williamsburg, evening...
The guys were now having dinner at a barbecue joint.
"I forgot how good this is," said Jim as he ate smoked ribs.
"Spoken like a real American," said Tony, "and we're only halfway done wit' yer initiation. Tomorrow, we're gonna visit Jamestown an' then hit up some o' the places in Yorktown an' Williamsburg that we didn't get around to today."
"Yeah," said Jim, "I really wanna check out that new Revolutionary War Museum in Yorktown."
The other guys exchanged subtle grins because if everything went according to plan, Jim would actually be in a jail cell by then.
Route 60, later...
Jim was driving everyone back to the hotel in the Super Duty they'd rented. As he kept his eyes on the road Tony and Eric exchanged nods. It was time.
"Hey, Jim," said Eric, "I hate to do this to ya, but I gotta take a leak and don't think I can hold it 'til we reach the hotel."
"Okay," said Jim as he pulled the truck to the side of the road and brought it to a stop.
As Eric stepped out to do his business, Tony spoke.
"Hey, Jim, close your eyes. I wanna give you a Real American surprise!"
"Okay," said Jim as he closed his eyes in anticipation.
Tony reached into his jacket and pulled out a small syringe. He then took the safety cap off the needle.
"SURPRISE," shouted Tony as he plunged the syringe into the base of Jim's neck and rapidly pumped its contents into Jim's bloodstream.
"DAD," exclaimed Jim, "W..what..the...hellllll..." Jim promptly passed out.
"Alright, boys," said Tony, "We got three, maybe four, hours till that tranq wears off! Let's roll!"
Three hours later...
Jim's eyes opened as he regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was in a large hallway with Roman columns and portraits of Revolutionary War heroes such as Geroge Washington, Henry Knox and John Paul Jones along with display cases of weapons from that time period and mannequins dressed in military uniforms from the era. Next, Jim saw Tony, Eric, Wayne, Bud and Chuck S standing in front of him. All five men were wearing surgical gloves so as not to leave fingerprints on anything they touch. Jim then noticed to his horror that he was handcuffed to one of the statues and completely naked.
"WHAT THE HELL!?"
Jim then noticed that he'd been drenched in some kind of liquid as well. He sniffed the liquid.
"Is that...rum!?"
"So's no one will believe you when you tell them," said Tony.
"Tell them what," said Jim, "Where are we? Why am I drenched in rum and chained to a statue!? Where are my clothes!? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"
Tony let out a chuckle.
"Damn, kid, for a know-it-all who went to Bromwell on a full ride scholarship, you sure are stupid!"
Tony briefly laughed at his own joke before continuing.
"You thought I was trying to make it up to you that you aren't really an American, Frenchie!? What a fuckin' joke! No, I just wanted to butter you up until the moment was right. After I injected you wit' animal tranquilizer we drove you here to the Revolutionary War Museum. Since Wayne's wife works the information desk, he knows the security codes that disable the alarms and where the hard drive that keeps the surveillance footage is."
At this point, Bud whipped out the clear plastic bag with Jim's handgun in it. "Recognize this?"
"My gun," said a shocked Jim.
"That's right," said Tony, "We shot out the hard drive with it, an' we're wearin' gloves so's the only prints the cops find are gonna be yours, Jim."
"You did all this just to frame me," exclaimed an outraged Jim.
"You aren't gonna fry, Jim," said Tony, "No one's gonna believe a French cunt like you had the balls to kill Daniel Ortega. We're just coverin' our tracks!"
Jim rolled his eyes.
"Dad, you can't kill Deniel Ortega. For chrissake, you aren't even supposed to drive at night anymore!"
"That's what you think, Frenchie," Tony barked, "You're gonna make up for fuckin' up the mission by being born! Cops are gonna be too busy wit' you to stop us from stealin' a tour boat an' sailin' to Nicaragua to take Ortega out. We're gonna leave your clothes an' the rum bottles at th' dock as insurance! Granted, you're gonna go down for public intoxication, indecnt exposure, breakin' an' entering and theft of government property while we finish our mission! Let's roll, boys!"
Outside, a minute later...
"There," said Wayne, "Alarm's reset."
"Bud," said Tony, "Get the door!"
"Roger that."
Bud then shot out the glass door with Jim's Beretta, which set off every alarm in the place.
"Let's move," Tony barked as they raced to the truck, leaving Jim's gun behind.
Inside the museum, Jim let out a defeated sigh.
"Forty-three-years-old and I never saw it coming."
Jim then turned his attention to the alarms.
"I gotta get outta here and get into some clothes before the cops arrive."
With his free hand, Jim took a button off the coat of the mannequin he was handcuffed to. Using the button's pin, he picked the lock. Fortunately, in their haste Tony's team had used cheap handcuffs from a sex shop so it only took Jim a few seconds to pick the lock.
"There, now to find some clothes and get outta here!"
As Jim made his way deeper into the museum, something caught his attention. He stopped and saw a row of flags with a plaque at the end of the room. Jim read the plaque.
"These are the flags of all nations involved in the battle of Yorktown. In addition to the American's and the British, American forces were augmented by French forces commanded by General Rochambeau while the French naval blockade of Chesapeake Bay prevented British escape. In addition, George Washington's second in command was the Marquis de Lafayette. They may have been French, but on that day, they became American heroes."
Jim suddenly had an epiphany. He may have been born in Paris, but that didn't make him any less of an American. He was snapped back to reality by the sound of police sirens in the distance.
"I gotta get going and stop Dad!"
A few minutes later...
Jim snuck out the back door of the museum in the uniform of an American soldier of the Revolutionary War, just in time to evade detection and arrest.
Yorktown Waterfront, a short time later...
The old team was assembled by a docked double-decked sightseeing boat. Tony looked at his watch and scowled.
"Dammit, where the hell is Manuel? Cops are probably forcing Jim into the back of the car by now!"
Suddenly, a Latin-American man in his seventies emerged from the shadows.
"'Bout damn time, Manuel," said Eric.
"Sorry, man," said Manuel in an accented voice, "Got lost."
"How the hell'd that happen," asked Wayne, "You've lived in the area since 1987."
"Been kinda forgetful lately," Manuel admitted, "Doctor thinks I might be in the early stages of Alzheimer's."
"You can at least remember how to get to Ortega and drive a boat, right," said Tony.
Manuel nodded. "Si."
"Well," said Tony, "Then let's go!"
The men then walked up the gang way onto the boat.
"Alright," said Tony, "Manuel, you head up to the control room. We leave now, then..."
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, ASSHOLES!"
Music: Hulk Hogan Theme
I am a Real American
Fight for the rights of every man
I am a Real American
Fight for what's right
FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE
The guys looked and saw Jim running up the gangway towards them. He immediately shoved the other men aside before getting in Tony's face.
"Dammit, Dad," Jim barked, "I may be your son, there's nothing I can do about that, but I am NOT gonna be your patsy!"
"Then I guess you're..." Tony threw a punch. "...SUCKERPUNCHED!"
The punch caused Jim to stagger back against the guardrail. He then lost his footing and fell into the water. Since it was nighttime in January, the temperature outside was below freezing, which sent Jim into a momentary shock as soon as he hit the water.
"Now that he's outta the way," said Tony, "Let's cast off! Now, once we're out in open ocean, we go straight east about ten miles. Once we're in international waters, we can turn south and head straight to Nicaragua, stopping in the Caribbean to resupply!"
Wayne looked down at the water. "Um, Tony," he said with concern in his voice, "Your son should've come up by now. Even Navy Seals can't hold their breath that long."
Tony groaned in frustration.
"Okay, fine. Bud, get him!"
"Roger that," said Bud as he aimed his AR-15 and fired into the water.
Tony angrily snatched the assault rifle from Bud.
"I MEANT JUMP IN AND SAVE HIM, YA IDIOT, NOT SHOOT HIM!"
"Sorry," said Bud as he approached the guardrail.
"NOT SO FAST" shouted Jim from right behind him.
Everyone gasped in shock as a sopping wet Jim stood there.
"You know," said Jim, "You guys really are slipping. If you'd just looked to the left, you would've seen me climbing up the side of the boat. Now, the game's over! Let's get outta here!"
"No," Tony barked defiantly, "WE'RE GOIN' TO NICARAGUA!"
"You know, Tony," said Wayne, "My eyesight's not what it used to be. Maybe you all better continue without me."
"WHAT," shouted Tony in outrage.
"Now that I think about it," said Bud, "I probably shouldn't miss my doctor's appointment on Monday. I need those injections."
"INJECTIONS," said an incredulous Tony.
"I got adult-onset diabetes," Bud admitted, "I miss too many injections, and the doctors might have to amputate my right foot."
Added Lenny, "You know, that humid jungle air's gonna play havoc on my emphazema. Maybe I should stay behind too."
Added Eric, "An' I can't hold a rifle steady anymore. Damn arthritis."
"FINE," Tony yelled, "I'LL DO THE WHOLE DAMN THING MYSELF. LET'S GO, MANUEL!"
"I don't think I should," said Manuel, "I'm not entirely sure I can remember the way to Ortega's compound."
"But...but...," Tony sat down and sighed in defeat as it quickly dawns on him that they're ALL too old and sick to pull something like this off. "Awww," he finally said as he slumped down, "I just wanted to kill Daniel Ortega."
Jim, despite everything, was sympathetic due to the fact that these former commandos really are now just decrepit old men trying to relive their glory days. He put a hand on Tony's shoulder.
"It's okay, Dad," said Jim, "You lost this battle, but we still won the Cold War."
The dock, a short time later...
The guys were all being escorted by their less-than-thrilled family members into cars. Jim felt too sorry for them to turn them in, so instead he called the police to report his gun as stolen, creating a solid alibi for why it was used in a vandalism incident. He then called the family members to come pick the guys up and take them home.
"Thanks for calling, Jim," said Eric's daughter, "I've been worried sick since Dad took off."
At this point, Quinn's car arrived. Quinn stepped out and approached. Jim was surprised to see his wife.
"Quinn, what are you doing here!?"
Quinn explained. "When you told me your father and his buddies were taking you to Virginia for the weekend, I got suspicious, so I decided to drive down myself and make sure you're okay."
Jim hugged his wife.
"I'm fine, Quinn, but I've had a pretty rough night. I'll tell you all about it on the way."
"HEY," Tony barked, "WHAT ABOUT ME!?"
"Jennifer will be here in a few hours," said Jim, "In the meantime, I suggest you stay out of trouble, because this is your LAST get out of jail free card."
Tony folded his arms and huffed. "Goddammit!"
The road, a short time later...
Quinn was driving Jim back to the hotel in her Cadillac. He's just finished telling her what all happened.
So," said Quinn, "He tried to frame you, and you had to stop him from doing something even more stupid."
Jim nodded. "That's pretty much it."
"Well," said Quinn, "I'm a little disappointed that you didn't hand Tony over to the cops, but I'm impressed with all the other ways you handled the situation."
"Yeah," said Jim, "Thanks." After a brief pause, Jim explained the epiphany he'd had while escaping from the museum. "You know, a lot of French men fought on the American side during the Revolutionary War. It occurs to me that I'm still an American. I fought for what's right. In fact, the plaque in the museum said that while they were Frenchmen, that day they were Americans, and I'm one too."
"That's right," said Quinn, "You ARE a Real American."
"No," said Jim, "I'm not a real American, I'm just an American."
"Exactly," said Quinn, "Just like your mother and father."
"Um," said Jim, "My mother was born and raised in Italy."
"Still," said Quinn, "She did live in this country for thirty-five years."
"Okay, fine," said Jim, "Everyone's an American. Change planes in Atlanta, you're an American."
End chapter.