"Honey, I think we need to talk about your eBay addiction..."

"It's not an addiction! I can stop any time I want."

"I doubt it very much."

"Well, come on, look, it's not like buying stuff on eBay is a bad thing. I mean, look at how much money I've saved!"

"But it's not saving money when you get a low price on something you don't need!"

"Don't need!?! What's don't need?! Tell me one thing I bought on eBay that we don't need?"

"The two thousand F-cell batteries."

"Okay, well, I grant you, we don't need those YET. But when we DO need F-cell batteries, we will be set for a long time! And they were less than a penny a piece!"

"Give me one example of something you can even put an F-cell into."

"An F-cell battery checker for one... And I'm winning an auction for one right now! Your turn. Can't you admit at least one thing I got on eBay that you like?"

"Well.... I guess that knitting machine was a pretty good idea. We've gotten a bunch of sweaters, hats and mufflers out of it for not very much money. But honey, we live in Miami! How many days a year do we need a sweater?"

"Well, you can't blame me for the climate."

"Okay, that thing that scrambles the egg while it's still in the shell."

"Yeah, that's great! What's your point?"

"It doesn't work! Yeah, the egg is a little mixed up, but most of the time, half the egg winds up on the walls and ceiling! And anyway, why is it so hard to scramble an egg the regular way?"

"Okay, I'll admit, the egg scrambler has some technical challenges. But I'll get it figured out!"

"The tank."

What?"

"The tank."

"Oh, come ON babe! You're the one who wanted a second car!"

"A second CAR. Not a tank!"

"Sure, it's a little different, but where else can you get such solid reliable transportation for only $22.88?"

"Um, honey... Do you remember the shipping charges on that one? How much was that again?"

"Like twenty three thousand..."

"Um. And, it's a TANK!"

"Hey, that's an ADVANTAGE! It's solid, reliable, safe..."

"Have you looked at our driveway, or should I say what USED to be our driveway?! And have you been tracking our spending on gasoline? What's that thing get, like ten gallons per mile? And don't forget about all the scratches in the side of our Lexus?"

"Oh come on. Every car has a few problems..."

"Honey, it's not a car. It's a Russian surplus army tank. You should see the looks I get when I drive that monstrosity into the Walmart lot!"

"Awe? Respect? Admiration?"

"Shock. Fear. Ridicule."

"No, that's jealousy, I'm sure. You're just misinterpreting. Anyway, not everyone can appreciate a fine vehicle."

"Honey, you bought me a clattering, scary, smelly, gas-guzzling tank on eBay when I could have gotten a nice used Civic for half as much. Or less. Admittedly, only when you factor the incredibly high shipping costs into the price...."

"Hey, can a Civic go off road? Can a Civic drive over a pothole without so much as a bump? And you know how mad you get when you see a car without a permit parked in a handicapped space? Well, can a Civic TAKE OUT a car parked illegally in a handicapped space?"

"Huhhhhh. Okay. I really do think you've got an eBay problem. I think it's just high time for you to just stop bidding in eBay auctions!"

"Babe, it's not a problem! And even if it were, it's no big deal. Help is available any time!"

"What, is there some kind of 'eBay Anonymous' group?!"

"No, no! Just look at this! 'Addicted to eBay? My system can help you stop in just two weeks! Bid now!'"

"Do I really need to point out how bizarre that is?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind."

Crunched asphalt fills the troughs formed by the tank treads. The tank itself has already passed, no doubt off to catch someone not in accordance with one of the many laws we're subject to nowadays. Life used to be so much simpler.

–––––

It all started on July 4, exactly one year ago. Everything was happening as it normally would on a summer afternoon: the sun was beaming, radios were playing, and kids were playing baseball in the field. The smell of hamburgers and hot dogs was coming off the grill, wafting over to where I was sitting. Our dogs were tied up on the lawn, and were rolling around in the grass; I had just mowed it that morning, and the scent of freshly-cut grass was still lingering. Some friends and I were sitting in the front yard of my nice little house in the suburbs, talking about last night's football game. The midday heat was beginning to cool off, and the weather was perfect for the fireworks show that was planned for later on.

The kids all ran back from the baseball field. All twenty-three of them came screaming toward where we were seated, yelling something about the armies that were chasing them. "Glad to see they can enjoy themselves without us," I heard someone say from across the circle of chairs. We all laughed and moved on to some heated political debate.

Suddenly, someone motioned for us to all be quiet. A rumble–albeit a faint one–was growing, coming from the end of the street. I stood up and to my bewilderment, a lone tank was advancing toward my house. It looked serious: the sides were painted with grey camouflage paint, the treads were covered by heavy armor plating, and the gun appeared to be loaded. Everyone around began to panic and run into the house; I remained outside, to see what was going on. By the time the tank was in front of the house, everyone else was hidden away inside. The tank, seeing me, turned and rolled across the lawn, stopping a few feet from my front door. A soldier, wearing a uniform I had never seen before, came out of the top and approached me, gun in hand.

"Come with me."

I stood my ground. He raised his rifle, and pointed it toward me. "Come with me, or I'll bring you myself."

I kept standing. He walked up, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the tank. I thought about resisting, but decided I didn't want to make him use more force than he had already. I walked with him, and entered.

–––––

It turns out they had mistaken me for some higher-up in the state government, which was good news for me; after some interrogation, they brought me to a holding cell, where they provided food and shelter. However, the people they were actually looking for weren't so lucky. The "army" that detained me was really a collection of vigilantes, fed up with the government and desperate for change. They were in the midst of performing a coup d'état, and were searching for the governor, senators, and so on. Once they had been captured, they were never heard from again; what exactly happened to them, nobody really knows.

In any case, it turns out that this rebellion was much more organized than I, or anyone else, had imagined: by the time I was released a week later, armed guards were patrolling each street constantly, and not a minute went by that I didn't see a pair walking down the sidewalk. The tanks had been taken from a nearby army base, and they became the symbol of this regime. They roll by when someone nearby has committed a "serious crime," such as trying to communicate outside the city. They pull up and take him away, and he simply doesn't come back.

The old baseball field where the kids were playing is fenced off now, and is used for storing weaponry. The grass is all dead, and its smell hasn't been here in months. There aren't grills anymore; in fact, all our food is rationed, and the majority of what we eat has to be grown by hand. There aren't radios; you can be locked up for a full year if they hear the music. There aren't pets; there isn't a rule against it, but nobody can afford to take care of them. And of course, around these parts carrying fireworks or explosives is a death wish.

I haven't heard from anyone off the street for the past year, but we're going to meet and watch for fireworks this Fourth of July. If there are fireworks, then that means someone is still out there that can help us.

I don't like to think about what will happen if there aren't any.