The Sniper made a mental note to never again discuss current events with the Demoman while drinking with him. What started as a pleasant enough conversation was turning into a one-man manifesto that sounded so ridiculous the Sniper wondered if the Demoman ever had the presence of mind to consider them while sober. “I dunno, mate. I’ve taken a gander around that building in Texas. That Oswald bloke had plenty of time to put as many bullets into pretty much anybody he wanted. Hell, if I was the one up there, I could’ve nailed that shot on my first try!”

“And I’m telling ye that skinny git was just the unlucky patsy they put up so they could have an excuse to stop looking fer the real murderers!” the Demoman took another swig from his bottle. “Do ye have any idea how many people were gunning fer Kennedy on that day?”

The Sniper rolled his eyes. “Everybody and their dog, according to you.”

The Demoman slammed a fist on the table. “This is serious! In Australia, people might drop dead from random daft convicts shooting off as their guns as they please, but this was the President of the United States we’re talking about here!”

The Sniper kept his voice calm, but he was starting to wonder if the argument wasn’t an exercise in futility. “Being President’s a dangerous job—what do you think the Secret Service is there for, standing around wearing sunglasses and looking impressive?”

The Demoman sneered. “Fat lot o’ good they did keeping ‘im safe!”

“I’ll grant you that,” the Sniper had to concede. “And somebody somewhere deserves a bludger to the bonce for letting the man ride in an open air vehicle.” Before the Demoman could gloat for long, however, the Sniper continued: “Still doesn’t change the fact that any ninny wanting eternal infamy could’ve been up in that repository. Oswald just happened to be it.”

“Nay! Oswald couldn’t ‘a done it by himself, I tell ye!”

“And I’m telling you not everything’s some convoluted conspiracy.”

But the Demoman kept ranting about grassy knolls and secret societies—and perhaps even aliens were mentioned at some point, but by now he was so incoherent it was just about impossible to suss out what he was trying to say. With a sigh, the Sniper stopped trying to make the Demoman see sense.