Carl vs. the Nazis Ch. 10 Busted

"Carl vs. The Nazis Ch. 9 Invasion" 
Busted

I looked around for an escape, but it was hopeless. My number was up. Silently, I prayed for a quick, painless end.
“Carl’s father arranged the money from Indiana University that provided us with food, weapons and bus tickets! And all we had to do was fill out brief survey.”
The Nazis turned to me and applauded. I would have much preferred being shot.
“If you have finished your surveys, would you please pass them to the end of your aisle? Carl, would you mind collecting them and bringing them back to your dad? Please be back in about an hour, so we can go over our training for our raids.”
It was a long walk home, made harder by a heavy uniform, a heavy helmet, a heavy heart, and the manila envelope full of Scantron surveys. Dad was perched on a stool by the counter at his typewriter. I cleared my throat.
“Hi, Carl. You’re wearing a Nazi uniform.”
“I was collecting these,” I said, throwing the computer bubble sheets from his survey onto the counter. “Damon said you paid for him and his fascist friends to fill them out.”
“I didn’t think they would do it for free.”
“You didn’t have any qualms about this?”
“Well, I was a little concerned that they may not be bright enough to fill them out correctly. I had to revise it three times to make it simple enough, but . . . Oh no, this one is filled out in ink! Well, I’ll just have to redo it in pencil. Inconsiderate jerk!”
“No, Dad. I meant, weren’t you worried about the ethics? About doing what’s right? These people are planning on using your money to hurt other people.”
“That isn’t my problem, Mr. Self-Righteous Marble Pooper! I didn’t tell them to hurt anyone. Lots of people who get jobs spend their money to hurt others or themselves. I could sell bad stuff, like tobacco, donuts or booze, like your pal's dads. My problem is getting my research done on time. Damon’s Nazis are the best example of strong-willed, small-brained people I’m going to find outside a prison and I am going to study them. At least this way, they’ll be some good to society. So, if you’ll excuse me Saint Carl -- if I can call you that while you’re dressed like a storm trooper -- I’ve got work to do.”
“Dad, they think I’m one of them, and they’ll kill me if I try to escape.”
“Everyone has fights and disagreements. It’s all just part of growing up,” he said, not looking up. “I’m sure you’ll work it out with your friends. We all need to try to get along.”
When I explained the situation to the Immortals, they sat impassively.
“People watch too much television anyway,” said Robert. “Why should I care if these little boys playing soldier want to disrupt cable service?”
“They want to kill people,” I said. “And I’m in a stew. They think I’m one of them. They aren’t going to just let me walk away. I’m due back in just a few minutes.”
“Why don’t you and your Dad take off back to Indiana?” asked Gwen.
“Dad is thick as an elephant omelet. He just isn’t taking the situation seriously.”
“You’re right, Carl,” said Mildred. “We shouldn’t put up with this Fascist nonsense! I’m calling the police!”
“You’re forgetting!” I said. “The police chief is one of their leaders.”
“Then we’ll call the FBI!” she said.
“Come on,” I said. “They aren’t going to believe you. Anyway, how can you report a crime when you all have supposedly been dead for seventy years?”
Thomas looked thoughtful.
“Carl, we’ll think of something. In the meantime, you’re going to have stay with them.”
The next few days in the Neo-Nazi bunker were the longest of my life. We had several political rallies where I was forced to cheer the most horrible speeches and recite awful oaths about how we were the natural leaders of the earth and would destroy or enslave our enemies.
The food was horrible. Everything was breaded and deep fried, which stunk up the room even worse. Pork was a favorite: Pork brains, pork loin, pork kidneys, pork tripe, and some other bits that are too gross to think about.
The men sat around playing cards and pool and bragging about their weapons. They kept no regular schedule, and there is no night or day in a bunker. We had no quiet time to sleep in the cots lined up in the bunkers. The Nazis slept when they were tired and ate when they were hungry.
The guard from whom I had stolen the uniform eventually made it back down. He couldn’t remember how he lost his uniform, but he realized I was wearing it. Because the Nazis weren’t such a nice group, no one felt bad for him or mad at me for taking it from him. They congratulated me for my cleverness in single-handedly overpowering the guard and sneaking down to pursue my true destiny as a fascist warrior.
The training for the raids consisted of digging up wires and cutting them with insulated wire cutters while wearing gloves. Then we buried the wires for the next group to practice. We were not to stand in water while we cut the wires. A Nazi standing in a tub was electrocuted during his demonstration of the dangers. Damon and Hoggleton called him the first martyr for the cause. Hoggleton left the bunker to have Tee Shirts and commemorative plastic figurines made of him, which he sold at the bunker’s commissary.
Damon said if we saw signs saying we should not dig because of television cables, we should go ahead and dig anyway, because we were, after all, ultimately overthrowing the government and didn’t need to follow the laws. We also shot at mannequins, charged them with bayonets, and blew them up with grenades.
I was sad and bored and began to doubt whether help would ever come. Then one night, as we were eating dinner, we heard scraping outside our walls.

"Carl vs. The Nazis Ch. 11 Adolf Returns"