The Brave Manitoban’s Story Didn’t End After the Ninth Bullet

/joetravers

DOMINICAN REPUBLIC—By now, we’re probably all familiar with the heroic tale of Les Lehmann, the 64-year-old Manitoban who took nine bullets to the chest while protecting a group of schoolchildren from burglars.

If not, the official story is that two thugs broke into a compound where Lehmann and some students (there on a humanitarian trip) were staying. Lehmann, though a notoriously peaceful man, went ape and smoked one of the deviants with a baseball bat. Whilst caving in the head of the first thug, the second took shot after shot at Lehmann, ultimately emptying an entire magazine into the Manitoban’s chest—miraculously missing all of his vital organs. While Lehmann slumped down to take a bullet break, the second thug dragged his accomplice to safety.

This is the story the mainstream press has reported on. This is the story his family is content to have on the record. This is not the full story. The truth is: Mr. Lehmann’s night didn’t end there.

Having lost over a litre of blood, Lehmann was in shock. Although dazed and going blind, Lehmann’s adrenal gland was working overtime, giving him the needed drive to carry on. After the neighbourhood dog tricked him awake with some strategically-placed licks, Lehmann limped back into the compound. Inside, he found some cotton balls and a pair of tube socks, which he used to plug his gaping wounds.

Taking a long drink of Canadian Rye, he fumbled around, looking for some blunt killing instrument, his baseball bat having splintered when hitting the first thug. Behind the kitchen counter in the central hub, Lehmann found a spear gun. Not exactly what he’d set out to find—he’d have preferred an axe or another bat—but a weapon nonetheless. The kind normally used to hunt medium-sized shallow water fish. Lehmann took a minute to repurpose it to hunt the son-of-a-bitch who’d perforated him with little-wimp bullets.

Leery about his legs failing him when he needed them most, the injured Manitoban ripped apart a CD rack, creating splints that’d hold him up even if his muscle and bone couldn’t.

Satisfied that he had enough to dispatch with the villains, he set out after them, following the blood trail left by the coward whose face he’d caved in just minutes before.

The blood trail led to a local bar called The Big Kahuna. Lehmann walked in around 10:45 PM and was greeted by gasps and screams. Apparently, the blood and viscera masking his face and body was too much for the bar’s inhabitants, many of whom instinctively called the cops or left. And it’s a goddamned-good thing they did.

Lehmann barked to the bartender: “Give me a shot of your finest whisky. And none of that pussy American shit.” The bartender, seeing that Lehmann was armed, complied.

Lehmann trudged to over grab his drink, when out of the corner of his eye, he spied a bloody puddle right outside the bathroom door. Letting out a raspy laugh, the old Manitoban leaned forward. He was reported to have said: “I’ll give the two of you nine more bullets or ten seconds to run.”

There was shuffling behind the door.

“Ten! Nine!”

On “eight,” the door burst open, but Lehmann was ready. The able-bodied thug raised his wimp-pistol, not realizing he’d already lost, already been bested by a man from the Great White North. The last thing that’d gone through the thug’s mind was a three-foot spear.

Now, normally, a spear would merely penetrate, perhaps do some internal damage. Not the night of January 30.

The spear cleaved the thug’s head in half.

Experts say that neither a spear nor a crossbow bolt could do this kind of damage, but it certainly did—as proven by the Big Kahuna’s CCTV. That’d make the tally for miracles the night of Jan 30, ten.

Lehmann had nearly lost a second litre of blood by the time he executed the shithead who’d disturbed his slumber. Notwithstanding his injuries and blood loss, he made it to the hospital before any permanent damage could be done.

Les Lehmann has nine reasons he should be thankful, and offers one reason not to fuck with him: “I will find you. I will end you. I will piss on your grave.”

Disclaimer