Monday, January 30, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... A Killin'

Whitey just wheeled that sky-pony 'round and headed back. Then he put her in for the night and went outside. Kid wasn't there. He liked talkin' to Davey for a lot a reasons.  First of all, the kid was truly likable.  Second, he picked up a lot a inside information that way. Kids are like that. Spill the beans, if you know what I mean. Tuva-Tuva gals say things too. He knows some a their lingo. Hell, even Miss Sissie drops a few nuggets every now and then. Rich folks never think the 'help' know nothin'. And even if they does, what are they gonna do about it? 'Cause it ain't just what you know. It's who you know to tell it too. Don't believe me? Try gettin' past some uppity bitch receptionist. You might be privy to the biggest secret there is. You might have the Lost Ark of the Covenant and The Holy Grail collectin' dust right on top a your dining room table. You could be the most confident son-a-bitch on Mars. But jus' try snakin' your way passed some pig face receptionist. Just go try it. And see how long it take her to throw back her head and spit out the word 'SECURITY!' Less you got some 'cousin' on the other side, you ain't gonna git on that other side. Whitey know that. That's why he so careful. 

That big goomer, the one wit the limp, the one he seen out in the borderlands really did look like somebody. Now lots a folks come out to the ranch. Polvarosa barbecues is famous. Trooper Day is a big deal. They still do The Forth of July.  Hell, they got one most every month. And you KNOW how many months we  got here on Mars. Calendar got 'two counts.' the short count, which is the Earth way and the long count, which is our way. Little bit complicated, but we used to it. Hell, Miss Sissie got a shuffle in that old Jew calendar too. She still lights candles every week, even if nobody else 'round here pay any 'tention to 'em.

Whitey got a good brain. He will track that memory down and find it. 

Right now, they all runnin' 'round and hollerin' over by the big house. Mister Zeb and Miz India 'spected back from town. Gonna have a fancy celebration supper in honor of the soon-to-be new senator. Alec 'spossed to be comin' too. He the other son, Zeb's brother. I'll tell you 'bout that one later. But his wife just called, all frantic like. Seems he never came home from work to pick her up. Little assholes all dressed up (I hate them). She got her stringy, lady-bald head all weaved up for the occasion. Gonna take holograms and everything...... But the brother never showed. And he ain't answerin' his phone. 

Noise traveled all the way out to the stables. Air on Mars is like that. Whitey heared the whole thing. And what they was yellin' sort a jogged  somethin' lose from his brain. But he just sat there real quiet like. Put his beer bottle down in the dust and just stared. 'Cause he remembered the gimpy guy.  He  know where he seen him. 

Then, when he look up he spy two police tanks turnin' down the driveway ( almost a kilometer long). And two seconds later Mister Bart come runnin' out a the house all crazy-like  to meet 'em.


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