Exploding like a big electric bee sting, the first shot hit Big Bob right between the eyes. Slapping his big mitt to his big forehead, he felt sticky, wet skin beneath his big fingers. Pulling his big hand away from his big head he saw big red.

Screaming, Big Bob fell to the ground.

I’m hit. I’m hit.

Stunned in mid-hug, Darryl lowered his arms, disappointed the ambush stopped him from showing the love he wanted to show the enemy in the midst of a viral pandemic of racism. Willingly eating hatred promoted by white people who despised him would provide power to the people. At least that’s what Darryl thought.

Within seconds a skinhead holding a tire iron over his head got banged in mid-swing. Red goop coated the wide space between his eyes. Covering his face with both hands, he wailed, convinced he was going to die.

I’m shot. I’m shot.

The thick heavyweight power-lifter with biceps the size of cannon balls caught the next missile flush on the neck. Capt. Jones took a hit to the chin. Four female mud wrestling off-duty state troopers each took a hot projectile in the butt. The bail bondsman and his two Dobermans whined as they crumpled with slugs to the body.

As 11 victims went down (counting the drooling attack dogs) the crowd ran scared looking for cover.

Sniper-perfect shots derailed a likely fatal racist attack against Darryl, an African-American’s African-American if ever there was one who espoused how justice equals peace in the face of bigotry.

Move, move, move, William said, pushing Darryl, grabbing him by the arm and sprinting toward the alley where he slowed his pace to a jog. In good shape, Darryl easily kept up with his rescuer.

That wasn’t necessary, Darryl said,

They would have killed you, William said.

I had everything under control.

A race killing is never controlled.

You sound like an expert.

I assassinated Afghans just for being Afghans.

Where’d you learn that shit, anyway?

Courtesy of the taxpayers and the United States Army.

That was a real war. This is paintball. Why paintball?

To make my point without killing anybody that most people refuse to wear masks.

How could I forget about your obsession?

I call it Operation PAINball, William said.

Did you see the TV news crew shoot video of me trying to eat hate and your one-man assault?

No interviews, William said..

Any press is good press.

People aren’t taking the public health risk seriously, Darryl.

My point exactly, my man.

People need to wake up before they start dropping dead in the street from COVID-19, William said.

They’re already dropping dead in the street from racism, Darryl said. Maybe we should do socially distant love-ins like the hippies did in the 60s.

Can I still PAINball people?

Give peace a chance, nigga.

What’d you call me?

Never mind.

I’ll shoot them and you hug them.

So we’re teaming up, you and me?

Like Batman and Robin.

No, they were both white, Darryl said.

Butch and Sundance?

Same color, bro.

The Lone Ranger and Tonto?

Darryl smirked.

Which one of us is Tonto?