The Diary of Dupont Down Under

They came from the south--from somewhere between the White House and the Mayflower. Some say they fell through a hole somewhere on Connecticut Avenue. Others say they assaulted sewer workers who were blocking traffic with their orange cones set up around a manhole cover on K Street. Some say they swam through the Dupont Circle fountain seeking its source. Others say they followed Alice through the looking glass.

But we know the truth: they came for the Rolex.

Some will say that cannot be true because the Hunter-Gatherer Society does not care about things like that.

But we know the truth.

It started with our Fearless Leader. He has protected us from the double-crossing Beaver, the exploding gas lines, the encroaching federal underground bunkers, the real estate bribes, the millipedes, the river rats, and even the great Civil War of 2010 when our military veterans argued about the Surge in Afghanistan.

But he could not protect us from HER.

Holly Gonightly is her name. Everyone knows she's TFFT (too fat for televison), but, still, she's beautiful like a Renoir painting, and her voice is strong and soft at the same time (like purple velvet), and she's smart as a whip, and she loves poking her television camera anywhere there's an important story....

And so last weekend she met Fearless Leader when he was gleaning at the Farmers Market, because his clothes were raggedy and his hair was raggedy and his fingernails were raggedy, and yet a shiny Rolex was gleaming from his left wrist as he held open his bag and tossed in sprouted potatoes, wilted lettuce, and mushy peaches. And so she pulled her camera woman off the transvestite juggling seven heirloom tomatoes while riding a unicycle and asked our Fearless Leader who he is.

The answer is rumored to have taken up 45 minutes of tape, but she was dissatisfied, so Holly Gonightly asked him straight-up, "But you have a Rolex?" And our Fearless Leader did not know it! Because it was just a watch he had found on the ground. She told him he might be able to sell it for ten-thousand dollars and then rent an apartment for himself so he would not have to live underground, or she could run a television story in which he offers to return it to its rightful owner and he would be famous. But Fearless Leader said he would have to consult his brothers and sisters in Dupont Down Under, so she set off to follow him.

But HE was following HER.

We learned later he is Glenn Michael Beckmann, leader of the Hunter-Gatherer Society. Some say he was following her because he thought she was spying on him and he wanted to turn the tables on her. Others say he was following her because her pheromones were so powerful. Some say he was only at the farmer's market to buy home-made soap (because Freemasons and hippies controlled Unilever, Johnson & Johnson, and Procter & Gamble).

But we know the truth: he saw the Rolex thirty seconds before Fearless Leader did, and so Glenn Michael Beckmann would not rest until he took rightful possession of it.

So down they came into our world--Fearless Leader, camera woman, Holly Gonightly, and Glenn Michael Beckmann. Holly Gonightly was struggling to scribble notes on her Lois Lane steno pad in the dim lighting while the camera woman wrinkled her nose at the peculiar smells of our home under the streets. Fearless Leader set about distributing food, saying nothing about the reporter or the camera woman or the enormous watch glistening on his wrist. "Never sell yourself with less enthusiasm than you would sell a used car," Fearless Leader said, as he handed out a blueberry muffin he had found in the dirt. "A flower in a Dupont Circle garden could be a towering bush in El Yunque rainforest--don't be more impatient than the impatiens." (Fearless Leader was handing out some Belgian endive now, and nobody was tempted to jump to the front of the line for THAT.) "Save one for Silverado," Fearless Leader said, as he passed out some carrots. (He was talking about a National Park Service police horse.) "When everybody is labeled an enemy combatant, the Earth will stand still and the alien invasion will begin," Fearless Leader said to a Goth waif from New Jersey because he knew she only felt happy when thinking about alien invasions. "Only pink warblers can sing the song I sang," Fearless Leader said to the last person in line for food.

For several minutes, we ate in silence (except for the humming of the Goth waif), and the camera woman panned back and forth across the throng a few times. Gonightly was just opening her mouth to speak when Fearless Leader abruptly thrust his wrist up in the air and shouted, "Behold, the mighty Rolex!" (A young man in a Wahoo t-shirt immediately jumped up and declared it was his Rolex that he had lost the week before, but everybody shouted him down as a known liar.) "We have no use for The Man's ticking time pieces in Dupont Down Under," said Fearless Leader, and many people nodded and shouted amens. He pointed to Holly Gonightly and said, "This woman tells me I can sell it for ten-thousand dollars, or I can appear on television and say I would like to return it to its rightful owner." (The man in the Wahoo t-shirt tried to jump up again, but the former Marine next to him yanked the fellow back down.) "Everyone close your eyes, and we will take a vote."

But then the Goth waif stood up and pointed at Holly Gonightly. "Let's give it to her," the Goth waif said, because Gonightly reminded her of a favorite aunt--the only person in her family that ever loved her.

"Alright," agreed Fearless Leader with a shrug. He immediately took it off and handed it to Holly Gonightly, who looked in bewilderment at her camera woman, and the camera woman pointed to Gonightly's wrist, so Gonightly put the Rolex on.

"A tremendous act of generosity from the citizens here," she began. "Tomorrow I will begin the search for the true owner of this watch, who will, I am certain, want to reward these honest people." She looked over at Fearless Leader for a moment, then back at the camera. "This is Holly Gonightly, reporting from Dupont Down Under." The camera woman turned off the camera and whispered to Gonightly that they needed to go now, so they thanked us and left.

Then Glenn Michael Beckmann emerged from the darkness to spew hatred at us. "That was MY Rolex!" he screamed. Somebody asked why he didn't say so earlier. "You will ALL pay for this!" he screamed. Then he left.

The next day, he returned with dozens of armed men and told us they were taking over. "We are the Hunter-Gatherer Society!" he shouted at us. "We have existed from the beginning and will exist to the end. Nobody can stop our right to hunt and gather!"

"That's cool," said the Goth waif.

"Go and gather for us--NOW!" screamed Beckmann.

The former Marine had already pulled out a knife to attack Beckmann with, but Fearless Leader motioned for him to put it away. And so we went out to gather food for the Hunter-Gatherer Society, and when we came back, we found our things shoved into a side tunnel and were told slaves were not allowed anywhere else in the tunnels. Fearless Leader encouraged us to be patient, and, indeed, after a few hours the Hunter-Gatherer Society left after Beckmann grew tired of their complaints about the smell and the claustrophobia and the darkness and the creepy-crawlies. And so we rejoiced, but the next day they came back. Like lions marking their territory, they now return every day to roar and frighten us. We do not know what they want, but the Goth waif suggested we look up Beckmann's blog, so that's what we will do. "We have survived worse," says Fearless Leader, and it is true.

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NEXT WEEK: Some new members join Sense of Entitlement Anonymous.