- Don't Tread On Meby Brett Matthew West
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Get Your Filthy Feet Off My Flag!
Don't Tread On Me by Brett Matthew West
Artwork by alaskapat at

Fascinated by the imprints he discovered in the forecourt of Grauman's Chinese Theatre, Cavin Henderson exclaimed, "Wow! Look, Dad. There's the Harry Potter wands!"

Saucer-eyed, Cavin stepped to another area and said, "That's Roy Rogers' gun and over there's Herbie the Volkswagen Beetle. This is awesome!"

Ronald Henderson grinned. Pleased his son enjoyed the treasures he asked, "Did you know there's more than two hundred celebrities represented here?"

Before Cavin could answer, a buzz arose among the crowd of looky-loos that lined both sides of Hollywood Boulevard. A shiny limo rolled to a stop in front of the movie palace. Dressed to impress, a young actor climbed out of the vehicle and waved to his sea of adoring fans.

Cavin heard a young blonde call out, "There he is. I just saw his movie last Friday night."

Someone else chimed in, "Ninja Espirit Death Corps is his best flick yet."

Not to be outdone, a third spotted their idol and yelled, "Guadalupe, we love you!"

Anticipation filled the air. Cavin observed the sights and sounds of the pageantry. Earlier that morning before he left the lobby of the Roosevelt Manor, the silver-haired desk clerk advised him, "Guadalupe Figueroa's the hottest young lead in Tinseltown these days."

Familiar with the star, Cavin's bedroom walls were plastered with posters of Guadalupe. He'd seen all of Guadalupe's movies. That's why when his dad told him they could come to this event, Cavin tossed and turned the night before. Dreamland evaded him.

The desk clerk had encouraged Cavin, "Make sure you have your Nikon ready when Guadalupe gets his footprints on the Walk of Fame. You're not going to want to miss this unparalleled spectacle."

Cavin moved a little closer to Guadalupe for a better view. He noticed bodyguards surrounded the star. Prada sunglasses perched on top of his head, Guadalupe pushed his way through the crowd. He paused to sign several autographs.

Cavin heard Guadalupe chatter to those closest to him, "Thanks for coming."

The thrill made the girls tingle. Absorbed by Guadalupe's popularity, Cavin once again fantasized when he grew up he wanted to be a world famous actor too.

Guadalupe knew how to work an audience. He yanked the high tops off his feet and exposed his tanned toes in the bright California sun. The simple act made his fans clamor for much more. Tantalizing the throng, Guadalupe wiggled his toes. A smile spread across his mug. Guadalupe approached the wet cement that would forever encase his magical footprints.

Cavin noticed cameras and cell phones pressed tight against many faces. Guadalupe feigned placing his foot down into the damp mixture then pulled the appendage back. A cheer emitted around him.

Guadalupe teased the mob again, stepped back, and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes!" The revelers shouted in unison.

"On the count of three," someone said.

Guadalupe led the horde in the countdown, "One! Two! Three!"

To commemorate the occasion, Cavin snapped several pictures as Guadalupe planted the bottom of his feet in the cement.

Guadalupe turned around. An entity from his entourage dropped an American flag in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard. Guadalupe's eye spotted the invitation. The banner beckoned.

An ornery smirk on his face, and a changed demeanor evident, Guadalupe made his way to where the flag laid. In a flash, he stood in the middle of the emblem of the United States like he'd seen posted on the internet the day before. The act was total disrespect and disdain for the country that provided him the golden opportunity to achieve his wildest dreams, ones he craved.

Stunned by Guadalupe's actions, Cavin's hands clinched in fists of rage. He bolted for Guadalupe and heard him laugh a sinister guffaw that rebounded down the boulevard.

His chest inflated high like a puff adder, Guadalupe chucked a thick wad. "I spit on America!" He boasted.

Cavin shoved Guadalupe. He screamed, "Get your filthy feet off my flag!"

The force deposited the braggart on his keister in the middle of a spilled soda. Ice crunched as the seat of Guadalupe's pants saturated. Stunned, the attack was not what Guadalupe expected.

A loud cheer rose from the fickle crowd. They had a new hero. Cavin's dad walked up to him. He placed his massive steel worker's arm around Cavin's shoulders.

Cavin changed his mind. If being a famous actor meant being what Guadalupe Figueroa turned out to be he did not want any part of that pie in the sky.

"I'm proud of you, Cavin," his father told him.

Cavin noticed a news camera honed in on them.

He heard his father say, "But, be prepared boy scout. I've got a feeling, like it or not, you're going to be the featured story on the six o'clock news tonight."


Author Notes
This story may be viewed by some to be politically incorrect. I was not going for political correctness.

Three days ago, I saw a picture on of a young teen boy standing in the middle of an American flag laying on the ground.

In my book, I could care less if people protest. I gave the U.S. Army fourteen years service so they would have the right to.

What I see wrong is when they carry those protests to these kinds of extremes as this lost, wayward lad did on

Happy Independence Day, by Alaskapat, selected to complement my story.

So, thanks Alaskapat, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my story.


© Copyright 2011 Brett Matthew West All rights reserved.
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