Johnny Robinson had a troubled night’s sleep. For some reason he was fixated with the scary looking guy in the leather jacket he had seen earlier that day passing out “Fur is murder” pamphlets. There was something else about him. The piercings, the creak of his leather. Johnny sat bolt upright in bed. That was it! He had the revelation, “Leather is murder,” too.
Scary as the guy had been, the next day Johnny went to the harbour front where the guy had been passing out his pamphlets. Johnny couldn’t find hide nor hair of him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would say to the guy but “hypocrite” was definitely near the top of Johnny’s ideas.
Johnny looked around and eventually went home, all the time thinking about the “Fur is murder” tactics he had seen being used. Indeed, he paced around at home before finally going to the store and getting a can of red paint.
The most visible and egregious uses of leather came to Johnny’s mind. It preyed on him so much that he found himself outside of the Satan’s Angels clubhouse as the sun was beginning to set. He sat on the curb lining the street till it was pitch dark and a full moon could be seen skimming the trees. Finally he pried open the can of red paint, took a number of deep breaths and got up. He set his smart phone to film on the front door of the clubhouse.
Yelling “Leather is murder! Leather is murder!” he ran into the clubhouse. The door was unlocked and he pushed by one thin biker, making sure to slosh some red paint on his jacket. There was a shocked table of bikers playing cards that looked up at the novel sound. Drinks stopped being drunk and words stopped being used. Johnny sloshed the can of red paint around the circle splashing the majority of the leather jackets.
The obvious outrage and anger made Johnny drop the empty can and run out as quickly as he could. But he remembered to yell, “Leather is murder! Leather is murder!” Johnny ran out to the street. The quickest bikers were chasing him.
All of a sudden spotlights appeared and a megaphone signalled the presence of the police. “Stop everyone. Freeze where you are.” Johnny was by his camera so he stopped there. A police man came out to him from behind the lights to impress on Johnny that they meant him, too.
It took a couple hours of processing at the police station. His camera kept getting taken to show more and more officers. Johnny kept insisting that he needed it for his cause. He told them he needed to post it to Youtube to generate interest in the cause. The police said he could go at 10 p.m. But that was without his camera. He kept insisting and he left with the camera at midnight. Apparently the police didn’t think they were incriminated in any way. As he left the cop at the front desk just shook his head and said “You activists are getting crazier and crazier.”
Before bed, Johnny posted the video. The next day he needed more red paint so he bought some at the hardware store. He disguised himself as a construction worker, including hard hats and boots and bulled his way through a checkpoint of a big construction site. He opened the can of red paint just as the lunch truck pulled up while sounding its horn. In only a short moment later the far flung workers were gathered round and Johnny set up his camera on the way to the entrance of the site.
He walked calmly to the lunch truck and only a few paces away began the call, “Leather is murder! Leather is murder!” He got many a boot as he ran. Sensing that he could only get away with the nearest bunch, he dropped the can and ran. He managed to pick up his camera and get out the exit.
Stopping his yelling after leaving the site, he heard what the workers were yelling. “I’ll turn my own boots red by stomping and kicking you with the steel toes!”
But Johnny was safely enough away. And the workers had to work.
Johnny posted to Youtube and then bought a ticket to Texas.
It was at a mega ranch’s mess hall that he came with his bucket of red paint. This time Johnny set the smart phone to film at the entrance to the mess hall. None of the cowboys really sized him up till Johnny was in their midst, red paint flying onto boots, belts and chaps. Of course he yelled, “Leather is murder!” Again Johnny dropped the can and ran. But he took too long picking up the camera and a cowboy managed to grab him. Johnny jerked free but two more cowboys now had a hold of him.
“Well, well, well,” said the foreman. “We’ve got the red paint guy. Leather is murder, I heard.”
“I’ll be out soon enough,” hoped Johnny aloud. “And I’ll have alerted even more people to the cause.”
“It’s not like your beloved by America, like Oprah was. Men! We shall have a lynching!”
They destroyed the evidence of the smart phone. But quietly a video showing red splattered boots and belts and chaps made it onto Youtube. Letters appeared on the screen saying “Leather is Murder! And people who wear leather are murderers. Oh yes.”
Many searches were made for Johnny Robinson. But he was never found.
