These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Dog hurt Billy's Back

Shame we can't tell yeh more, but that 'Billy' goomer what types it all out apparently can't push his fingers down on them keys so good no more. Some little fuss budget of a squashed down hound dog done tripped him up. So I jus' gonna learn yeh the good stuff.


All them Texaco bastids over at the ranch struck a bargain. Alec gonna get one ecumenical splendiforous send off. Only thing missin' is hula-hula girls. Miss Sissie (she the mama) gone have Teacher Davis. Bart (he the papa) gone have Supreme court of Mars Justice Scooter Barnes (think he gonna forgive the deceased a few traffic tickets while he at it). And Miss Monica, the disgruntled wife, gonna have a tag-team made up a one Creole Catholic Priest and some guy who wrote a real sad 'lady play' that ran six months in the Barsoom theater district. Only thing did better was the annual appearance of The Happy Nude Cowgirl Demolition Derby and Head Bashin' Contest. We do enjoy them classics.


Rapidly putrifyin' body in question over at Carson's Mortuary and All You Can Eat Seafood Restaurant. They got really good 'frigeration, don't you know. Ole Man Carson make rancid shrimp look like bunch a fat, albino caterpillars 'scapin' from a pool a savory, orange cocktail sauce. Cocktail sauce make dead folk cheek look rosy  too(after it dry a little).


And Miss Monica ain't so mad no more. She is no longer disgruntled. She mostly all relaxed and gruntled now. Doan wanna rock no boat, I guess. 'Fraid they might throw her off. An ev'rybody know she 'spect old man Hobart a 'take care' a her and them children.


I guess it all depends on how you translate 'take care.' Cause them kids might be Texacos....but she sure as hell ain't.....


Wish I could tell you more, but that Billy goomer's back cramped up too much. He layin flat on the floor, rockin' back and forth and moaning like it Cleopatra's  honeymoon.


That's all from EL RANCHO TEXACO for tonight.


Go get youself a glass a Pepsi-cola and a couple Lorna Doones.... 


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Whitey's Day In Town

That book-writin' goomer held the chewed off finger in his hand and looked at it. He was not about to say everything. Oh, he had some opinions. But he was not about to tell all. Lucky they was settin' in a corner. Nobody could see what was  goin' on. Ev'ry body else chawin' down on steak pizzioli and deep fried anchovies.  This was the bes' Eye-talian restaurant in Barsoom after all. 


Know what I think?- said the writer..........Whut? - said the stable hand....... I think he must a lost it before he died. Maybe in a fight. You know, like a struggle. Looks bit off to me. But I ain't no expert on finger removal. I'm jus' sayin'. How'd you get it?............ Little birdy done give it to me.- grinned Whitey........ The writer goomer just looked. He was sure that dumb cowboy was crazy. Why not? Had all the genuine, licensed signs of bubbles in the think tank. Skinny. Sunburnt. Dried up hair. Chutes and ladder teeth. Sweat stained arm pits. Writer knowed. His pa got locked up in the crazy house for that. Sure they can jimmy out all the old-timey brain-funnies now. Only thing is, new hinky-dinks keep croppin' up. What they gonna do? Let 'em run the streets? That why people gotta git theyselves locked up. Hell, this Mars. Ev'rybody gotta git locked up sometime. Am I right?


Then the writer goomer say - What you want a do wit this?...........Whitey just shrugged. He did have expectations. What he lacked was the means to communicate 'em. But the writer gommer knowed what he was after, so he said - How 'bout if we sell this to somebody want a do a hinky-dink to them bosses a yours? You like that?......... Whitey just nodded and grinned........Writer feller say - What kind a hinky-dink you want a fall on 'em?............. Whitey say - A killin' hinky-dink, a real smartin' legs-in-a-wood-chipper hinky-dink........ Then he laughed. I guess it was a laugh. But here in Barsoom it just look real dumb. Funny, out on the ranch he never seem so dumb. But out there all he gotta 'press are the horses and the young'uns.


So they spit hands and smack a deal. They gone see a guy what knows how to grow folks from chawed off body parts. Once growed a whole new debutante from a little bit a throwed out tittie. See her mama doan like that buxom look, so she pay a doc uptown to shave her down a mite. You know, make her look more fancy-like. I don't know what they did with that re-grown tittie-gal. That part, I don't know. 


Hour and twenty minute later they walkin' out a rich folk clinic wit  two hundred and fifty five thousand dollar 'tween 'em. Ast for a million. After all, who not like  to have a  full blooded Texaco to control? Spring it on the old lady when it grow out a little. You know she gonna love it. You know she gonna want it. So lemme ast you? How much it gonna sell for then? Shit, kids'll get a chance a have they daddy back. Monica get her huzbin back. Don't know what good he gonna be to her. But at least she get him back. Who knows? Might be fun dressin' him up and all?


Whitey doan know what to do wit his part a the money. Can't put it in no bank. Can't spend it all on hootchie gals...Not ALL a it. So he settle on a plan. He gonna ast a guy in a card parlor a change it in a ten thousand dollar bills. Then he gonna roll 'em up tight, slide 'em in that little (now empty) finger vial a his and shove it all back  up his ass. Hell, wern't no big thing. He gettin' used to that by now. Walk real good wit it and ev'rythin'.


But he did have five thousand left. And that's what he used to buy a gun. Real purdy one. Handy-like too. Gun store goomer say it shoot twenty five round 'tween  rechargin's. Whitey doan care 'bout that. He only care 'bout the first two.


Bus-tank doan leave for two more hour. Time enough for him a go up Tallulah Street and see Miss Linda. He had some a his own 'from before' money all folded up for that. So he wave down a little rickshaw (they got robots pullin' 'em. look jus' like them old time movie stars) and hop on. Ten minute later that Clooney-bot drop him off on 'hootchie street.' Whitey give 'im the money, but he doan leave no tip. Clooney-bot mutter - Go to hell, bastid......... Lemme tell you. Some a them robots real fresh son-a-bitches these days......


Doan know what Whitey gone do wit that new gun. Doan know how he gone maneuver wit all that money up his butt. Reckon he doan know how neither. 


But Miss Linda and he is 'besties'. An she purdy good at secret keepin. Not perfec'. Hell, no. She ain't perfec'... But she purdy good......I hope..... 


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Monica talks

They found the body.  Them sniff-pigs finally did it. Took 'em long enough. Bart 'bout to call in the army. Started makin' veiled threats. But then somethin' happened. Wind changed, or maybe an underground stream started bubblin'. And the scent come up to the surface. Stench would be more like it. Cops positioned a couple 'trover' robots over the crack. They juggle theyselves down till they touch somethin' and tote it on up. Only in this case a whole lot a preliminary scrapin' had a take place first. You see, alec was pretty much jellified. whatever them killers wrapped him in kept him together. But that was it. 


Miss Sissie start cryin' - My baby! My baby! My baby! ......... Alec's two kids start cryin'. They don't say nothin'. They just cry. Bart gets real tight jawed. You could see his hand tremblin', but that was it. Face was sweatin' too a little, if I remember right. And the other one...the other son, Zeb, just sit there. Oh, he swallowed real hard. He did that. And he went over to comfort his mama. But he didn't cry none. And them two kids growed up together........ Miz India made coffee. That what she do. She make coffee. Tuva-Tuva gals don't want a let her. But how they gone stop a rich Earth lady?


Now at first, Alec's wife don't do nothin'.  She go in the room. And I am talkin' 'bout a space off the laundry room. He so bad they can't put him no wheres else. She stand. She look. She wipe the skin 'round her eyes a little. She sighs. Closes her eyes. Bart goes to hug her and she does allow the gesture to take place. But she don't hug him back. 


Ev'rybody sittin' in the 'quiet talkin' room. That what they call the parlor 'round here. Kid's give it that name. Zeb and Alec used to say it when they was little. Big folks go in there when they got secrets. That not the play room. That not the family room. That the 'quiet talkin' room. That just the way it is. 


Tuva-Tuvas pass 'round coffee. But they serve it in them big mugs. It harder to knock 'em over. Put out a lot a coasters and napkins too. At first ev'rybody just sit. They don't talk none. They don't say nothin'. Just drink that coffee. Kids don't get coffee. Don't know what they got. Prob'ly some kind a mocha-chocolate drink. Don't make no difference. 


Cop comes in to offer his condolences. Mister Bart nods. Miss Sissie whimpers. Davey sit by his pop-pop. Monica's two crowd in by her. India still in a kitchen. But Zeb sit all by hisself.


Bart look at Miss Sissie and say - What you wanna do 'bout the service? ....... He can't say 'funeral'. Service come more easy like....... She just look down at her lap and say - I will do it. I will call 'Teacher' Davis....... Teacher what they say out here 'stead a rabbi. Both words mean the same thing. Don't make no big difference. Then Zeb sigh. Then he say - Mama, you know I am fixin' to be a senator. You know how folks is. Don't you think Daddy should handle this?.......... Bart just sit. He don't talk. Just sniffs a little........ Miss Sissie say - He can do what he like. I am callin' Teacher Davis. 


That when Monica break down. That when her coffee mug go crashin' all over the big, stone hearth. She say - Shet your malfs, ev'ry one a yeh! He my husband! That their daddy you got layin' in there! I don't want any a you God damned Texaco bastids touchin' him. I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it! Should a been Zeb! Should a been him! He got no ounce a soul left in 'im! He should a been the one! He most dead already! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!...............


Then she jump up and run in a little bafroom. No body run after. Shame for the two kids. They look so sad. They look so all alone.


Zeb just take a drink a his coffee. But you could see it all for show......


And ninety eight miles away in the city, Whitey sittin' in an Eye-talian restaurant wit that book-writin' goomer. He givin' him the finger.  Not that way. You know what I mean.


He just pass it over and let him look at it.


But lucky for them the gelati course was already over.


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... What Whitey Does

Sometime it get real quiet in there. Sky-ponies settle down durin' hot part a day. Got air-conditioning, but not much. Ponies be tetchy that way. And Bart don't want 'em to catch nothin'. Whitey don't care. He like it it like that. Keep all them Texaco shit-heads in the big house. They prob'ly settin' 'round that kitchen table chewin' on cold brisket and slurpin' up lemonade. Maybe they eye ballin' a sweet taiter pie for 'afters.' Let 'em choke. Whitey don't care. Maybe not that little Davey. But the rest of 'em can crawl into a dead-box and stay put. That what he think. That what Whitey say. 


This his 'town day.' This when he go into Barsoom and have himself some private time. Sometime private mean hootchies. Sometime it mean playin' cards. Sometime it mean eatin' Eye-talian shit and he like the good shit. He know the difference too. 


He already called the big house. One a them cops picked up. Told him about his 'town day' and ast if it was alright with ev'ybody if he took off for a few hours. Cop turns to Bart and says - That the regular thing 'round here?....... Bart say - Yes, it is. That what we do........ Cop think for a minute. Then little Davey pipe up and say - Hey, Whitey, you gonna bring me back my fudge?.......... Whitey say - Sure, little cow poke. What kind you want me to get?........ Kid think for a while, then say - Get me the peanut butter. Yeah, get me the peanut butter and some a that 'hoopdy-doo' chocolate, OK?......... Ev'ybody smile. Feel good a see little bit a happiness 'round here, considerin' Alec's body still festerin (as far as they know) somewhere 'tween here and the El Plano line. Alec's two kids don't say nothin'.  Just set there chawin' on they cold brisket. (It tender 'nuff. But they had better.) Their maw 'bout  to bust them the hell up. Not the kids. Her in-laws, I mean. She hate Miss Sissie. She Hate Mister Hobart. She hate Miz India too. But she got a 'rattle snake' hate for her brother-in-law. She got a ole fashion 'bullet-in-a-haid' kind a hate for him. And Zeb knowed it. But they just set there, lookin' all nice and family-like for that cop. Second later, somebody switch off that screen and Whitey jus' go off on his way. Little finger-vial commencin' to irritate the innards a his ass a bit. I mean he only pop it out for shit time. But soon he not gonna worry 'bout that at all. Soon his ass innards gonna be all better. He fixin' to show Alec's finger to that book writin' goomer.  That guy smart. That guy know stuff. He gonna make money off this. He know. 


So Whitey take hisself down to the road (other cops see him, but they don't mind. folks in the big house already call down) and stand there, waitin' for the bus. Five minute later, it pull up. Big, ole tank-bus, full a wide-eyed, silent Tuva-Tuvas (mostly females) gone off to see kin folk 'keepin' house' in the city. Couple other ranch hands on board too. He knowed one a them from the Walgreen. Feller nod to him. Whitey nod back. Then he settle his sore hind parts down on a vacant seat and 'tend he sleepin'. That what ranch hands mostly  do.


Little Tuva-Tuva boy settin' 'cross from him start snappin' a baby chupicabra skull his way. But Whitey don't care. Oh, he can see it all from out under his hat. But he don't mind, 'cause he fixated on money  he ain't got yet.


Ninety minute later, bus pull into a 'three t-shirt' red hot day. City can be like that. And Whitey already sweat hisself through the first one.....


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

Body still out there. Cops ain't found it yet. That just the way it is. If they were lookin' for a regular dead guy, it would a been over by now. Regular folks got chips, little tiny, microscopic chips. Nobody talk about it. Most folks don't have no proof. Sure, they got them crazy conspiracy goomers, only some a them not crazy. Some a them got all this shit figured out the right way. 


Know how they does it? Know how they get them little, bitty things in you? They pays folks. First they threatens them. Then they pays 'em. Believers say docs do it at  birth. Slip somethin' into a fat, ole baby. Baby don't cry. Baby don't talk. Baby don't know. Them nurses in on it. But they more skeered than them doctors. It like a whole domino line a skeered folks. If one talk, they all fall.


But docs know how to dig 'em out.  Docs know lot a things. Like rich babies don't get no chips. They just don't. I'm talkin' bout real rich babies...Trooper babies. Mars version a Daughters a The Alamo babies. An' people what immigrate out here from Earth, or the Moon don't get none if they come wit the right kind a papers. I cannot tell you just what kind a papers they are. Most folks don't know that. But them what got 'em by-pass a certain minor procedure during their howdy-to-Mars physical. What? You think life is fair? shit, how dumb can you be?


That don't mean they got ev'rybody all tied up. Tuva-Tuva don't got 'em. Them what does for Earth folks, like housekeepers and baby-minders, got 'em. Them what got jobs in the city got 'em. But the free ones ain't marked. Tried droppin' 'em outa the sky (special sticky ones). But that did not work. Then they put 'em in the streams and lakes and all. So now some a the fish  got 'em. But the Tuva-Tuva don't.


Gone be a while 'fore they find that body. Them sniff-pigs will get it eventually. Only won't be much left by then. Bart wants a try  for some kind a genetic reassembly, cloning, they used to call it. But can't build no house after twister come if the bricks all blowed away. Shame. Could a start  all over and made it up to that Alec boy for all he done wrong.


Misses Alec know. She sit all quiet. But she know. She hear all the stories what came before her. And she know all the stuff what came after. And them kids?..... They ain't no semi-assholes. Them what says it, says it out a habit. So he let 'em go sky-riddin' 'fore they's growed. So what? Had sky-packs on 'em. Nuttin' gonna happen. That family got issues. That's all.


Well, God damn. I forgot somethin'. They do got a sample a Mister Alec's genetic shit. The finger...that little digit. The one Whitey been totin' around up his butt. Somebody better call for better pigs. Somebody gotta bring out smarter porkers. 


Maybe I will see what I can do 'bout that. Who am I? I am the Trail a the Lonesome Pines. I am the Wind in the Canyon. I am here. I always been here, 'cept for the times when I'm 'there'....... like inside some goomers head, whisperin' things and tellin' him shit.


Do I lie? Do I ever Lie. Damn, what you think, you son-a-bitch?  This is Mars.......


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Family Time

Miss Sissie don't like bein' alone wit Bart. Not now. Not wit Alec missin'. She want Zeb and India to stay put. That way, Davey gonna stay put too and he the only one she really like. Not that she don't love Zeb. He is her son, after all. And she does have cordial feelin's for the others from time to time. But that don't mean she like 'em. Not like she gonna get up early and make pancakes for 'em. You see, Miss Sissie make pancake real good. Davey get pancake all the time. Ev'ry body else get Fruit Loops and Pepsi Cola, or whatever kind a shit them Tuva-Tuva gals feel like contaminatin' the kitchen wit. Could a had a p.m.d. unit. That a 'prepared meal dispenser' unit. Mos' all the rest a the rich 'Trooper' ladies got 'em. Come in like buff gold, or stainless steel. Oh, they went up to the Walgreen appliance store four times. Almost got one, but then Bart say - How you get the meat in it?...... Kid says - Ain't got no real meat in it. Use that 'cultured' crap......... Bart say - Cultured crap!? You mean you LIKE that shit?.........Kid say - Hell, yeah. That shit taste real good........... Bart start whuppin' the kid wit his hat. Kid wanna hit him back, but he don't wanna start nothin' wit an old man. So these two hologram security guards slide over. One say - Attention, Walgreen shopper! Get your ass the hell out a this place 'fore we mess you up! Thank you and come again!...... Miss Sissie gettin' all red in the face. She grab him by one a his arms and yank him back outside.  People lookin' at 'im. He  cussin'. He spittin'. Real human cop come over and say - You want me to give you a ticket for havin' a wild hair up you ass, old man!?........You see, havin' a wild hair up you ass, in public, is a summary offense 'round here. Gotta go 'lie' before the judge, who WILL let you off, provided the lawyer you got give him half the money you paid. Bart ready to go into his 'You know who the hell you are talkin' to, you shit-head, you?' But Miss Sissie start cryin'. He hate when she do that. Don't make much noise, but you can tell she real sad.  So he take her back to the tank. Say - You wanna stop at the Tastie-Freeze?............. She don't say nuttin', but that mean she want a tuna fish sandwich. After bein' hitched up wit her so long, he know.


And I don't think she really want one a them 'cultured meat' fixin' machines anyway. She always go on 'bout wantin' a 'righteous' kitchen. 'Righteous' this. 'Righteous' that. Slap you in a face, you not do the 'righteous' thing, you son-a-bitch. Oh, yeah, she can get that way. You see, in her Jew way, she jus' as crazy as Miz India be in her Jesus way. They both talk to God all the time. Only each one talk to Him on a slightly different phone. Still, they do manage to throw a lot a real good stuff at the poor. Talk about lovin' ev'rybody an lovin' ev'rybody an lovin' ev'rybody. Provided, that is, ev'rybody stay far nuf away. An you know what I think? I think God got Hisself a whole lot a uniforms. He got a Hebrew Uniform. He got a Jesus Uniform. He got a Muslim Uniform. Prob'ly got Hisself a Burger King Uniform too for all I know. That just the way He is. That what I think.


But Miss Sissie got her family with her now. They all still here. Zeb and his daddy lookin' over the crop land. India cuttin' up shit for a scrapbook. Alec's wife and them semi-assholes sittin' on a sofa in the morning room. Not that they happy. How could they be happy? But they here and nobody said no 'go to hell' yet. That in itself is good enough.


Davey in the kitchen wit his mom-mom and the Tuva-Tuvas. Ain't makin' pancakes, but at least they makin' french toast. 


At least they doin' that.....


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... sniff-pig

Miss Sissie went out to the pool house with one a the cops. He requested a piece a Mister Alec's clothing, the more personal, the better. She knew the fat Tuva-Tuva girl was a liar. She knew them changin' rooms hardly ever get washed down the right way. So it was no surprise  to her when they saw that wad a dried up man-scanties in a corner.  One a them belonged to somebody else. But the little plaid one had Mister Alec all over it. No, for real. It did. 'Cause too much ice-cream on a hot day give him diarrhea and he never learn. So they let the pigs get a  good snoot fill. And they truly did seem to like it. After that they put 'em in one a the tanks and drive out to the 'borderlands' 'cause that is where the best body-hidin' places are. Everybody know that. Got wrote up in BARSOOM MAGAZINE and everything. You know, that just the way it is. Some people gotta get theyselves wedged in like that. What are yuh gonna do about it?...Nuthin'.  Why all the bes' families got two or three people been jammed into cracks. Ev'rybody know that.

Rest a them Texacos congregate in the kitchen. Bart don't say much. He jus' sit there drinkin' some concoction the Tuva-Tuva gal mix up. Think her saliva is a major ingredient.  Kids is outside lookin' at that new, little sky-pony. Zeb and India wanna go back into town till they 'find somethin'.' But she don't care none. That bitch got a Cheerleaders For Jesus meetin'.  She one a the arch-angels. She a big deal wit that group.  Jus' 'cause she had herself a bonifide 'visitation.' Doc said it was probably jus' a transient 'schemic attack (You know, one a them cute, little, baby strokes?). But  she jus' had him throwed out  the 'lady' doctor union and got herself a 'cuter' one. Maybe you seed the story in The Clarion Call? -- 'My Intimate Chinese dinner with The Lord and Savior......... Nobody believe it at first. But then she start yellin - Ev'rybody know Jew like Chinee food, so you jus' shet yourself up!

Now they got a  pair a bamboo chopsticks hangin' in the Window a The Lychee Garden wit Divine Lip Prints on 'em.  Which is all well and good, provided the Divine Personage like Kiss Me, Stupid number twelve (it a lipstick). But that could be from one a the patrons, 'cause people be tryin' lick 'em up real good whenever they get the chance now. 

Whitey, the stable hand, gettin' restless. Wish them kids'd skeedattle. Gotta find that finger a better hidin' place, 'cause one a them sniff-pigs keep givin' him the glad eye.  And the younger semi-asshole kid wanna know why he walkin' like a Spanish dancer?

But Davey say - No, you doan know Whitey. He always squeezes his cheeks like that. 

Yeah...that Davey's a good kid.

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