At The Bar

  

John Parker sat at the bar, because it was fun. He wasn't supposed to be at the bar, he was on duty protecting a VIP. He took another drink, this was more like it, it was boring back there, they had put his VIP in a private room to watch a play, and he was expected to guard the door to that room for that entire play? No thanks, why, he couldn't even say the play from the door, and even if he could have, drinking was more fun. He looked around the room and saw other people at the bar. Were they off duty to? He didn't know, one of the people he recognized, this man was a famous actor, he seemed a little nervous somehow, not sure why. The actor got up and left. John Parker settled back down, ordered another drink, and mused on how strange and jumpy actors can be sometimes. 

  The actor had a plan, he believed in a cause, but it was beneath him to live and die in obscurity fighting for this cause. He had another idea. If carried out, this would shock the world, and possibly, hopefully make things happen again. Because, as things stood, his cause was lost. The actor was nervous, he fumbled into his pocket and felt something, still there, good. He ordered another drink, must have something to calm his nerves, he shakily sipped a little, looked at the clock, and felt in his pocket again, still there, good, he needed his derringer tonight, he saw someone at the bar who might have got in his way, he was relieved, this just got easier. He decides not to finish his drink, so he got up and left. His name was John Wilkes Booth. 

  Abraham Lincoln had a security detail. No one could get to him except by the door of his booth at the theater. The detail was working round the clock, and the play would happen during John Parker's shift. John wasn't regarded as the world's greatest cop, but, how hard could it be to just guard a door for a few hours anyway?

Source Material: Bill O'Reilly's Killing Lincoln with some speculation thrown in for "texture." ;) 

-Loren