A Parody of The Bourne Trilogy

Bourne crept stealthily through the woods bordering the estate of Dr. Fred Johnson, embracing the darkness that enveloped him. A rabbit scurried past nearby; upon hearing the sound, Bourne instinctually spun round and fired the silenced gun at the animal, the bullet lodging deep in its head. He looked at the rabbit briefly, and then moved on, never breaking stride. Soon he came to the edge of the woods. There Bourne paused for a moment, going over the plan in his head once more. He had memorized the layout of Johnson’s grounds the night before, analyzing all of the possible escape routes and choosing the best ones. In the end, depending on the doctor‘s reaction, he would decide which one to use on the spot. He had figured, however, that he would most likely get out through the same way he had come. Another large possibility was that of him going through the front yard and into the adjacent estate, whereby he would escape through the backyard.

Bourne took a deep breath, readying himself for what was to come. Now!

He exited the woods, striding in drunken manner towards Johnson’s house. Suddenly, one of the lithe security guards emerged from the shadows, his gun trained on Jason’s head.

“Are you aware that you are intruding on private property, sir?” the guard asked gruffly.

Bourne assumed a look of utter puzzlement. “What in God’s name are you talking about? This is my property,” he said, slurring his words. “Now, let me proceed. I’ve had a good many drinks and I should very well like to get to bed.”

A look of understanding came upon the guard’s face, and he lowered his gun; the man was a harmless drunk. “Just how many drinks did you have, sir? I think you may have confused this estate with your own, and -”

The time had come! Bourne withdrew the concealed firearm from his coat pocket with lightning speed and fired repeatedly into the guard’s head; he collapsed instantaneously. Jason lowered himself to the ground, put his hand in the man’s right pants pocket, and took out a small but powerful laser pointer. Every fifteen minutes, the two guards would flash a signal at each other using the laser pointers to make sure the other was still functioning. Bourne had timed it so that twenty seconds after he had eliminated the guard, the signal would have to be flashed. He waited until the remaining time had elapsed, but instead of flashing the signal, he refrained from doing so and leapt into the shadows. Roughly fifteen seconds later, the other guard approached, his gun raised.

“Bill?” the security guard said, his voice quivering with fear. “You there, Bill?”
The man turned around and started walking in another direction.

"Christ, where are you, Bi” --

Two bullets were in the guard’s head before he could finish his sentence.

Bourne felt a surge of satisfaction. He was through!

He had a full twenty-five minutes to complete what he had come here to do, the time it would take for the two guards inside Johnson’s house to come outside for their shift. In truth, twenty-five minutes was much more time than he needed.
Bourne shrugged out of his backpack and placed it on the ground. He then proceeded to unzip it and withdrew several rolls of toilet paper from within. The time had come!

With the precise, methodical movements of a master, Jason took a roll of toilet paper in his hands and threw it over the house, taking care that it didn’t collide with the roof so as to cause a noise that would alert the guards inside. As roll after roll flew over the house, he felt the familiar sensation of adrenaline surging through his veins.

Bourne was nearing the last few rolls when, in the process of hurling a roll over the house, the muscles in his right arm froze up in midair. His eyes widened in an admixture of shock and fear. He willed the roll, beyond all hope, to make it to the other side, that some higher power would intervene and carry it across to the safety of the grass below.

But it was too late, and the Gods paid no heed to Jason Bourne.

The roll of toilet paper, lacking the needed thrust to clear the top of the house, landed on the roof with a dull thud!

For a fraction of a second Bourne stood rooted to the spot, fear making his body its domain, ceasing all bodily functions and mental capacities. But then he came back to himself, the instincts of Jason Bourne taking control immediately.

Bourne flew into the nearest shadowed area and waited. Then the obvious struck him. Only one bullet remained in his gun! What would he do? Should he attempt to escape, so close to the completion of his task?

No! Think; improvise; adapt!

Jason reached into his left coat pocket and felt around for the laser pointer he had taken from the first guard he’d encountered; Jason pulled it out just as the two security guards from inside rounded the corner of the house. When they were almost upon him, Bourne pounced with the grace of a cat.

Using the laser pointer to blind one guard, Bourne fired his last bullet right between the other‘s eyes. Even as the fatally wounded guard fell to the ground, Bourne gripped the neck of his blinded companion with force. The man tried in vain to resist. He was dead in moments.

Bourne threw the last few rolls of toilet paper over the house and began to depart; Dr. Johnson might have awaken and alerted the local police of the disturbance. Something made him stop in his tracks, however. A whispering voice at the back of his head sought to grab his attention.

Tee-peeing the homes of others is morally wrong! cried David Webb, the other half of his consciousness.

Shut up, David! Jason Bourne yelled. Tee-peeing is awesome!

No it isn’t! Tee-peeing sucks!

Nuh-uh! Tee-peeing owns!

Have you no sense of right and wrong? Will you tee-pee the house of another for the sole purpose of having a good time? David Webb asked solemnly.

Of course! Dude, you need to lighten up!

And with that Jason Bourne shut David Webb from his mind.

When Bourne reached the border of the woods, he allowed himself to look back at his work. Gazing at the white-shrouded house, tears formed in his eyes and slid down his cheeks. Every fiber of his being was charged with pure awe at the sight before him. It was simply beautiful, the image of perfection.

Jason Bourne would sleep in peace tonight.