Matches
                                                                                        copyright © 2002 by Robert L. Blau

    Once upon a time, there were two scarecrows named Billy Joe and Billy Jack.  When the farmer was making them, he ran out of straw, with the result that Billy Joe and Billy Jack had only three legs between them.  Aside from completely superseding the phrase "joined at the hip," this circumstance had some unfortunate consequences.  When Billy Joe wanted to go left, Billy Jack wanted to go right.  When Billy Joe sat down, Billy Jack stood up.  When Billy Joe zigged, you could be sure that Billy Jack was zagging.  All of this was exacerbated by the fact that Billy Joe and Billy Jack hated each other's guts.  Or each other's straw, rather.  And it would do no good for someone to point out that it was the same straw.
    Billy Joe and Billy Jack did agree on one thing, however.  The shared leg was not common property.
    "Turn loose of my leg, you overstuffed flibbertigibbet!" Billy Joe would scream, taking an awkward swing at his conjoined twin.
    "Your leg, heck!  You bobble head!  That's my leg!"  And Billy Jack would take a poke at Billy Joe.
    And so it would go, back and forth, until their throats were even drier than usual and they were too fatigued to throw another wild punch.  This proved to be extremely taxing and frustrating for both of our heroes.  Then, more or less at the same time, the two Billies found a solution.  Matches.
    "Hey, I've got enough matches here to burn you to kingdom come!" threatened Billy Jack. "And I'm gonna do it, if you don't let go of my leg!"
    "I wouldn't get so uppity, if I was you," said Billy Joe. "I have more matches than you do.  If you even think about making a first strike, I'll toast you!  You may as well give up the leg now and save yourself a lot of embarrassment."
    "Says you!" said Billy Jack. "I have bigger matches than you do!  I'll go easier on you if you give up now, rather than later!"
    While the two highly flammable conjoined twins were threatening each other with matches, the neighbor scarecrow Joe Bob came stalking up.  He was carrying a large can and a great big, long, metal device of some kind.
    "Hey, you boys better cool off a bit there," said Joe Bob. "Not only are you going to burn each other to a crisp, but you could start a pretty nasty fire here.  Haven't you noticed how dry the grass is?"
    "Phooey!" spat Billy Joe. "He started it, and I have a right to toast his sorry straw!"
    "The heck I did!" countered Billy Jack. "You're the aggressor here!  All I want is my leg!"
    "Your leg...?" started Billy Joe, but at that point Joe Bob lifted his can and thoroughly doused the irate twins.
    "Now, what did you go and do that for?" asked Billy Joe.
    "What is that foul-smelling stuff, anyway?" asked Billy Jack.
    "It's for your own good," said Joe Bob. "This here's kerosene, and what I just did was wet your matches down so they won't light."
    The twins were silent for a moment.
    "There's something wrong about that," ventured Billy Joe at last. "I'm just not sure what it is."
    "By the way," said Billy Jack, "what's that other thing you're carrying?"
    "Oh, this?" said Joe Bob. "It's my flamethrower."
    "Flamethrower, huh?" asked Billy Joe. "What's it for?"
    "Oh, it's my job to incinerate all the bad scarecrows," said Joe Bob. "That's what it's for."
    "Well, he's a bad scarecrow!" said Billy Joe.
    "Am not!" objected Billy Jack. "He's the bad scarecrow!"
    "Now, hush up, the both of you!" scolded Joe Bob. "I'll decide who the bad scarecrows are."
    "How come you can decide, but I can't?" asked Billy Joe suspiciously.
    "Because I'm smarter than you are," said Joe Bob. "Besides, I have the biggest flamethrower."
    "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Billy Joe cut in. "You just told us not to light each other up.  That is, you told me not to torch him, because he's not fast enough or smart enough to get me!  But then you have this enormous flamethrower, and you say you're going to incinerate bad scarecrows.  How come you can do it, but I can't?"
    "Same answer," said Joe Bob patiently. "I'm smarter than you are.  Look at you two!  Drenched in kerosene, hands full of matches, attached at the leg!  But I know who the bad scarecrows are, and I know how to torch them without any of it coming back on myself.  Oh.  Did I mention that I had the biggest flamethrower?"
    "Well, don't look now," said Billy Jack, "but that kerosene can is leaking all over you."