Uprising at Possum's Backside
copyright © 2004
by Robert L. Blau
Black Bart was the meanest, orneriest,
nastiest, unhygienic-ist outlaw west of the Pecos. Really.
You can check it out on page 247 of What's
That? Some guy on the Potomac is listed as meanest,
orneriest, nastiest, unhygienic-ist east
of the Pecos, but Black Bart is appealing. Well, no one that
disgusting could actually be appealing,
but he's filed a protest. But I digress.
Ol' Black Bart ran his own
little empire west of the Pecos, and he staffed it with miscreants,
hoodlums, and ne'er-do-wells who were almost as mean, ornery, nasty,
and unhygienic as himself. Each of Black Bart's highly trained
staff was empowered to loot, pillage, and rape a particular town or
area, and they did so with professional abandon.
One of Black Bart's staff was known as Rabid Rodney,
and he was assigned the hamlet of Possum's Backside. It was his
privilege to answer for the hamlet the question of whether it was to be
or not to be. Rabid Rodney was not particularly popular with the
people of Possum's Backside, but people get used to all sorts of
things, and they were getting used to Rabid Rodney until the Awful
Gaffe occurred.
What, you may ask, was the Awful Gaffe? One
day, as the townsfolk of Possum's Backside were reeling as usual under
their tormentor's ministrations, Rabid Rodney let out a belly-chortle.
"Hee, hee, hee!" he chortled. "You folks sure are
yucky!"
"Gasp!" gasped the townfolks. "Did you call us yucky?"
"Hee, hee, hee!" chortled Rabid Rodney again.
And off he rode on his horse, which smelled better than he did.
The town of Possum's Backside had had enough.
"I've had enough!" declared the mayor.
"Me, too!" seconded the sheriff. "It's time for
action!"
"What kind
of action?" asked the people hopefully. "Are you going to tar and
feather him? If you do we might help."
"No!" said the mayor. "We're going to complain to
Black Bart!"
"Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," said the
schoolmarm. "Isn't he the one who sent
Rabid Rodney in the first place?"
"Right," said the sheriff. "Black Bart is Rabid
Rodney's boss. It's his
responsibility to control his people. Who better to complain to?"
Most of the good people of Possum's Backside thought
this sounded like a great idea, so they put together a delegation to go
to Black Bart and protest. They found Black Bart in a foul mood,
which was about as good as you could expect.
"Who the heck are you?" growled Black Bart. "And
whattaya want?"
He then shot out the kneecaps of two of the
delegates. That was considered a positive sign.
"We have come to complain about your henchman, Rabid
Rodney," groveled the mayor. He didn't mean to grovel. It
was just that he couldn't stand up without his kneecaps.
"Yeah, what's yer complaint?" sneered Black Bart.
"He loots, pillages, and rapes the citizens of our
town!" declared the sheriff.
"So, would this be the guy I hired to loot, pillage, and rape
you?" asked Black Bart. "Or is it some other guy?"
"No, no other," replied the mayor. "He's the very
one."
"So, what's the problem?" asked Black Bart. "Isn't
he doing a good job of looting, pillaging, and raping?"
"Only too good," admitted the mayor. "But that's not
all!"
"That's right," added the sheriff. "He said we were
yucky!"
The citizens of Possum's Backside nodded solemnly in
agreement.
"Har, har, har!" guffawed Black Bart. "Ya don't
say? I haven't had a good laugh in a long time. So, you
know what? I'm going to fire Rabid Rodney for you."
And he blew out a couple more kneecaps for good
measure.
"Well, that was a successful exercise of the power
of the people," said the sheriff.
"And luckily, we brought Doc along to take care of
our injuries," said the mayor.
"Yeah, but I wish he hadn't shot my kneecaps," said Doc.
And so the citizens of Possum's Backside returned
home, proud of their triumph of organization and agitation. The
next day, another hoodlum roared into town, looting, pillaging, and
raping.
The sheriff accosted the thug. "Who might you
be?" he asked.
"I don't know who I might be," said the hoodlum, "but I
am Pustulant Pete, the meanest,
orneriest,
nastiest, unhygienic-ist outlaw this side of Black Bart. I'm
Rabid Rodney's replacement."
"Yikes!" yelped the townfolk. "This guy's worse than
the last one!"
"But don't worry!" said Pustulant Pete reassuringly.
"I'll never say you're yucky."
I'm sorry. I can't rev it into
high dudgeon over Rod Paige's "terrorist" gaffe. Even if Bush
cans him, there will be another coming right along, one who will watch
his tongue but not his policies. We have more important things to
do than play Verbal Gotcha with Black Bart's hired guns. Run
the boss out of town, and his henchmen will go with him.