Hand Grenade [FICTOID]

“Not everyone knows what to do with a hand grenade,” the charming young man said, casually tossing it up and down in his hand.

“Don’t do that,” his guest said.  “Makes me nervous.  It might go off.”

“It can’t go off,” said the young man.  He stopped tossing it to show to his guest.  “See that?” he said, pointing to the ring [in.  “That holds the spoon in place.   As long as the spoon is held down – either by the pin or my hand – it’s harmless.”

The guest reached over and yanked the pin out.  The young man reacted with speedy alarm, clenching the grenade to keep the spoon from flying off.

His guest hurled the pin far away into the dense underbrush surrounding the house.

“What the hell did do that for?!?!?” the young man yelled.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself taunting me with your grenade,” said the guest.  “I just wanted to see what that felt like.”

“By pulling the pin?!?!?”

“By pulling the pin.”  The guest leaned back in  his chair, fingers interlaced, a benign smile on  nis face.

“You’ve got to find that pin,” the young man said.

“No,” said the guest.

“You must!  I can’t hold this forever.”

“Can’t you?”  What will you do if forced to relax your grip?”

The young man bit his lip, then said, “I need to throw it as far away as possible.”

“I suggest you do that,” said the guest.  “Or else go search the underbrush for it yourself.”

“Will you hold the grenade while I look?”

“No.  Why would I want to do that?”

“If I throw the grenade it will go off.”

“True.”

“I can’t throw it far enough away that we’ll be out of shrapnel range.”

“We’ll just have to flatten ourselves on the ground and hope for the best,” said the guest.  “See, I do know a few things about hand grenades.”

The young man licked his lips.  “That would be the waste of a perfectly good hand grenade.”

“Well, leaving aside a semantic discussion as to what constitutes ‘good’ how do you see it as a waste?  The hand grenade will go ‘boom’ which is what hand grenades are supposed to do.”

“Yes, but -- “

“No ‘yes, buts’ please.  State your proposition baldly.”

“It’s supposed to kill people.”

“Such as myself?  No, thank you.  If you wish you may remain standing after you throw it to receive the full effects of the blast, but I won’t.”

“Without the grenade I have nothing.”

“With the grenade all you had was the threat, the hypothetical.  That moment has passed, it cannot be reclaimed.  What will you do?”

The young man glared at his guest.  “I hate you.”

“Be that as it may,” said the guest, “what will you do?  Cling to the hypothetical or set yourself free?”

© Buzz Dixon