Free MDC?
by Sarajane Sein

It was a busy day at the New York City official courthouse. The panel of parole judges were going to be reading the mail for and against the parole of Mark David Chapman, who had served twenty-four years in Attica State Prison for the shooting murder of John Lennon.
The panel decided to start with the "for" pile, since that was about ten high, whereas the "against" was about 10,000 with more being carried in by the postman as they spoke. They began to read through the letters, and they found one that touched their hearts. It was from Martha Whitecap of Pinesbell, Illinois. Martha was a nineteen-year-old college student whose family belonged to heroic organizations such as the National Coalition against the Death Penalty, PETA, and NAMBLA.

Martha's letter read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Judge Sir,

I would like to write in requesting the parole of Mr. Mark David Chapman. He is just a poor mixed-up man who must feel truly awful about what he has done. Keeping him locked up will not bring Lennon back! Give him a second chance, because America is the nation of second chances.

Sincerely,
Martha Whitecap

"I think we should do what this young woman suggests," said one the judges and the others agreed. They released Mr. Chapman that afternoon (without telling the Lennon fans, fearing for his personal safety). He did not have anywhere to stay, so Martha Whitecap let him stay in her apartment in Pinesbell.
He went into the biggest mall in Chicago to look for a job. He went into a music store. He walked up to the L's and saw a copy of Double Fantasy. The police had taken his copy of Double Fantasy. This made Mark David Chapman very angry. He stuffed the CD in his shirt and walked out. The buzzer went off. The mall cops began to run after him.
"Oh no," he thought, and he ran out the emergency exit, evacuating the entire mall. He ended up by a dumpster when the coast seemed clear. He looked around for anything interesting. He saw a shiny silver Colt .45! Now, Mr. Chapman knew he should turn the gun into the police. But it was such a pretty gun. And he wouldn't shoot anybody, he would just look at it. Along with his new copy of Double Fantasy. He walked up the road and realized he hadn't gotten his housing permit signed by the Whitecaps, so he walked to the apartment.
"Hi, Martha, could you sign this?" he asked.
"Sure," she said and signed the permit. She then left to go save shaved chipmunks from being taken out of their natural habitat by drunken Eskimos. Mr. Chapman got to thinking as he looked at the signature -- how dare she just blow me off like that? It should be her pleasure to have me in this house! And that signature -- it's so frilly! How dare she sign his permit frilly! He'd have to discuss this with her!
He paced to and fro in the apartment whilst watching Cheaters. When the Big Indian Smoke Shop ad came on for the fifth time, he heard the door open, and in walked Martha. He yelled, "FRILLY!" as he pulled out the .45 and shot her seven times. Then he threw the gun out the window, where it discharged and killed a defenseless old lady and a Nevada mob boss. The police were immediately called, and they took Mr. Chapman away.
As they did, one policeman said to the other, "Well, he got his second chance, I guess."
The other replied, "You never get a second chance to make a first impression."
Thus ended the short parole of Mark David Chapman.

THE END