Wednesday, February 15, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Reckonings

He didn't deserve that. Davey's a good little kid. And it's not like Whitey meant to hit him. But when you go berserk with high powered fire arms crazy stuff is bound to happen. 


Bart saw him get hit. His eyes picked up the very instant when the 'red hot' cut through the boy's shirt and sliced through his body. Saw him twitch. Saw him fall. Saw him bleed. Old Man jumped up and barreled through all them screamin' people. Some folks go flyin'. Stuff gets broke. He don't care. He don't care 'bout none a them bastids. Let 'em all drop dead and go to hell. 


Folks is already crowdin' 'round the boy. Them what can't move fast enough gets clobbered. Bart falls down by his grandson. He's heavin'. He can hardly breathe. And it's the old man I'm talkin' 'bout. Little guy is still alive. His eyes is open. He look scared... real scared. His legs is tremblin'. Somebody mumble 'bout that bein' a good sign. But Bart don't hear him. He wanna hug the boy, but he afraid a hurtin' him. So he brush his cheek. He kiss him. He say - You hold on, you little chili pepper, you. You hold on. You hear me!?...........Davey wanna say somethin', but he can't. Whole body tremblin' now. Bart cryin'. Bart cryin'. Zeb (he the daddy) come runnin'  over. Slide down on the other side and start feelin' for a pulse, like he know what he doin'. Then the mama (Miss India) start bellowin'. She 'bout a pass out. Two fat ladies get her all set  up in a lawn chair. Bart say - Where that pod!? Where the hell that pod!?


You see, on Mars folks got chips put in 'em. Some they know 'bout. Some they do not. But most ev'rybody got a 'code blue' chip. They the good ones.  You get sick, you get torn up. Pod know 'bout it. Them big  ground level doors slide open. Pod rise out. Little blue engines fire up and it zip right to you. Folks sees it tearin' in toward little Davey. Bastids go flyin' back. They don't wanna get hurt. 'Sides, show gone be just as good from ten yard back. It come in. It hover. It set down. Door slide back and doc come out. Only he ain't a real doc. He ain't no human doc. Them pod docs is androids. Real good ones too. This'n favor Mister Peabody from Rocky and Bullwinkle. That 'cause it a kid what got hurt. Grown up prob'ly get like Jesus or Richard Nixon, depending on their prerecorded preferences. An' they ain't just one doc. They got three of 'em. Chase ev'rybody 'way. Tube him up. Truss him up and stow him inside. Folks what ain't hurt stand back watchin' like it a holovision show. First Mister Peabody say - Who goin' wit us? ............. Bart say - I am............. Zeb say - No, you ain't, you old bastid! I am. I the daddy! I the daddy!.......... But Bart jus' drag hisself up and fall inside.  Shove that shit ass son away like he a putrid mess. Somebody say Miss Sissie rollin' 'round on the floor in the house. People cryin'. People bleedin'. Dogs barkin'. Zeb almos' smash one a them Peabody docs. An' even android doc don't wanna be 'dead,' so it jump back a little and let him in. Door slide down and they tear off, straight into the city, straight to Albert Einstein First Hospital a Mars. An' soon as they gone, folks sees the other pods glide right in. 


I gotta tell you. Mars know how to make trouble. But we do know how to clean it up once it happen. 


Miss Monica wanna be the good widder/daughter-in-law now. She wanna make points. She wanna get the money. She wanna be the firs' one. So she set her two kids up wiff some kind a gladiator video dome in the basement. Then she kneel down by Miss Sissie to set things right. Miss India waitin' a leave for the hospital. Can't drive her tank 'cause it all shot up. Some no account cousin fixin' to take her. Guess they figure this gone make 'em less no account.


And Stinker still there. He ain't hurt. He ain't even thirsty. Jus' sippin' a drink and walkin' 'round. Misses Stinker OK too. Shit, she still pickin' at some brisket.


Cops come racin' up the road. Guess this gettin' a be a regular thing wiff them. Boss cop fly out, bound  up them steps. And who do you think he fixin' a talk to?


You see, Stinker Jones do what he do best. Stinker Jones specialize in control-takin'. He jus' sets that badge wearin' bull dog down on a settee, slides in next a him and commences... to spin out... the truth... 


And over off toward the west, sun go down on a real nice purdy scene. Hills look red. Sky look blue. Clouds all smoky-orange. Only thing messin' it up is a big, ole pile a smashed up, missin' a head, sky-pony and a little ways off is an equally smashed up Whitey.


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