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."