Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down (9 page)

 

Loop Garoo, the python tucked away in his saddle bags, rode through the town of Yellow Back Radio towards the swine pit trough behind the gallows. He removed his black fedora and paused for a minute of silence.

 

He tossed a red rose into the pit where hogs were chewing on their dessert—a black velvet dress covered with blood.

 

That's the breaks, Loop thought riding back to the cave to get on with the serious business of closing every conceivable repair shop available to Yellow Back Radio, whose signals were needless to say becoming very very faint. In fact it seemed that the whole valley would soon be off the air.

 

Field Marshal Theda Doompussy Blackwell sat on a white crate in his office. The doorman's coat covered his long johns to about two inches below his knees. A wig lay lopsided on his shivering head and his dentures were on the floor next to a bucket of hot water in which his feet rested.

 

He was sobbing and listening to a recording of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” which came from a Victrola horn in the corner of the room. Besides the white crate it was almost the only other furnishing. Not quite. On a wall was the famous petrified moose head.

 

Pete the Peek, Congressman, professional voyeur and Theda's co-conspirator groucho marxed into the room, picked up Theda's dentures and pushed them into the black hollow of the soldier's mouth. He then fixed the wig which was about to fall from the Field Marshal's head, and with a white monogrammed handkerchief dabbed at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

Thanks honey I'm so cold I'd freeze if I picked them up myself.

 

Think nothing of it, the Congressman said squatting in the corner.

 

They both swung their heads in time to the music until the needle got stuck on macaroni macaroni macaroni macaroni…

 

Pete lifted the arm from the record and returned to his place in the corner. It was close to 12
A.M.

 

I just had enough time to take off my pajamas when I got your message Theda. Geez I was having dis nightmare about some Hoo-Doo nigger cowboy who took over a radio station and broadcast strange fixes, laying a trick on a Western town. I forget da name. Anyway it got so bad dey had to call in da Pope to straighten tings out. Da bad dream ended with pigs with scrap iron for teeth doing da re-cap. It really got into me. My lips were wet and was screaming, “Mama Mama Mom O Mom help your baby.” It was a deep trip Theda; it was as if I had to don a snorkel and rubber suit to go through da black pools of my shut-eye. I woke up on da floor in a heap of panties, bras, lipstick tubes strewed about my bedroom. See me and da guys had a caucus last night. After it was over I wuz stuck with dis real dog who remained when all da other guys got good lookin pancakes and left. I wuz about to stick da pig when I dozed off and dat's when I had da dream. I had to go into da kitchen and have da maid prepare me a late snack out of da frig—Kentucky Bourbon chased with water.

 

Well what about me? Field Marshal Doompussy Blackwell said squirming on his white crate. Does this look like my outfit to you? And why do you think my wig is all nappy and only a few patches of powder cover my decrepit yellow face? I didn't even have time to place a mole on my cheek I rushed over in my carriage so fast. The doorman was doll enough to lend me his coat.

 

What's up, Theda, is Frenchy up to his old tricks again? Pete asked dipping into a snuff box and removing the funnel from his head.

 

You said it Peter. O they treat me so mean—do you know what that child did this time?

 

No Theda, what?

 

Appropriated 2500 dollars so's a couple of ruffians could go hunt mammoth's bones and various botanical specimens to add to his Americana collection at Monticello. Can you get to that? Here I am in charge of Defense and I have to go around in ragged sneakers and borrow the doorman's coat because to tell you the truth honey I was ashamed to wear my General's outfit. I don't even have enough money to take it to the cleaners. He said he didn't believe in standing armies and that a good revolution from time to time is good.

 

Did he say dat Theda?

 

Said it as sure as you're standing before my eyes. Why that's why he got his ass out of Virginia that time when the British invaded and he was Governor. Said he was too busy inventing a cyptographic device called a wheel cypher to be concerned with force of arms.

 

Yeah Theda, remember dat time he was almost busted when he was ambassador to France and he was recuperating from an ailment in Italy and was seen smuggling Po Valley rice so's he could compare it to da rice grown in Carolina?

 

Gossip has it that he spent most of his time learning the process by which parmesan cheese was made and learning how to make macaroni. And you know what else, Pete?

 

No, the Congressman answered, as Theda leaned over and whispered into his ear.

 

Likes niggers a whole lot.

 

You don't mean it.

 

I kid thee not. When he was Gov of Virginia he tried to have a law passed against slavery and then later on wanted to banish slavery in the territories.

 

And he spends a lot of his time womanizing.

 

And remember what he did to the old man John Quincy Adams, Pete? I won't forgive him for that as long as I live. This impudent obscene underground pamphleteer accused the old man of giving all the baboons the original red ass and when the old man retaliated against all of those liberals, anarchists, beatniks and what have you by getting through the Alien and Sedition Acts, high and mighty couldn't even be a loyal Vice President—he pushed through his Kentucky resolution which declared the President's act illegal. Took it upon himself.

 

Well whaddya expect, Theda, look at all of dem far-out amendments he got pushed through da Constitution. He looks down his nose at us Congressmen, I see him, just because he can do fol de rol, calculate an eclipse, tie an artery, plan an edifice, break a horse, do a mean minuet and play da fiddle, he ain't so smart, why look.

 

O Peter you don't have to be so graphic.

 

Look at dis, Peter said, bringing out 24 cards. Credit cards to da finest stores in Boston and New York. He ain't so smart.

 

He has nothing but contempt for you Peter, you and your kind, why he called politics the hated occupation.

 

Well he can't think much of me because I'm politics from foot to head.

 

He said he didn't want to go the way of the French to Bonaparte.

 

Well if you ask me Theda my opinion, I tink some of dees protestors need a little Bonaparte right up side da fucking mop baby, pow dat's what dey need.

 

Now you're cooking with gas Peter, my compatriot and dear friend. I've been thinking about it Peter and you know what would happen if the British start acting up or them nigger pirates in Barbary start screwing around with our ships. Do we want to look like faggots?

 

He's stripped the Navy and uses the boats for those old nasty women he's always fooling around with, takes pleasure boat rides with those goddamn anarchists and those pseudo intellectual professors. Why just this morning he took off again. Papers piled high on his desk. Just went away. Too La Doo. Said he was nothing but a lowly dirt farmer waved to us and said he'd see us around. Always using slang like that I can't keep up with him or understand a single thing he says half the time. Said he wanted to catch an eclipse tonight through his telescope. Last time he went to his farm he remained 3 whole months.

 

Geez dat's a shame Theda. If we had a ballsy leader da whole shebang would be one big goof off from coast to coast, everything would be boss.

 

Theda looked at himself through a hand mirror and busied the mole on his cheek.

 

There are plenty of talented men around. Yourself Pete?

 

O I'm just a poor simple Congressman. I just got da job because my uncle's an undertaker.

 

Then what about me, Pete? Theda hopped from the crate and clutching the lapels of the Congressman's coat pressed Peter against the wall.

 

Aw not me, baby, I'm not getting mixed up in no plots.

 

But your name will become a holiday Peter, just think.

 

I'd rather bar-be-cue a holiday dan be one Theda. No tanks. You saw what happened to da Aaron Burr conspiracy, dey busted da poor guy all da way down to da floor—he's ruined.

 

Aw Burr was a lemon. I've been secretly planning here in my little hole in the wall. Maps have been made, an invasion route laid out. Royal Flush Gooseman is extending credit for supplies in exchange for me sub-leasing Florida to him, plus I have an intelligence officer on the biggest cattleman's household staff to boot.

 

Gee Theda da way you run it down so clear and fresh as spring water you make it zap my mind.

 

Of course Peter, dear friend. Why just this evening our Indian scout out on the range sent a message via electronic horsey that he was coding Yellow Back Radio when all of a sudden it went off the beam. He suggests that it might not be long before I took my sword and led a cavalry charge on that part of the country full of black diamonds, black gold, abundant streams of trout and swarming with healthy steer beef.

 

Look Theda suppose we just bumped da guy off? I'll let da boys back home know dere's a contract and while's he's out looking for rare butterflies bingo poof and my man is in doornail country.

 

O Peter you're so sweet but sometimes I forget you're the Congressman from New Jersey. Assassinations were crude techniques of the Middle Ages. Perish the thought that civilized men like ourselves would be forced to such tactics in this the century of American Enlightenment.

 

Wipe the mustard off your tie Pete.

 

O excuse me Theda I didn't notice.

 

No I have a better plan. If indeed Yellow Back Radio wilting feathers are preparing to take a dive into History why don't we take over the Western section of the country and then declare a civil war? Why with the plentiful resources and cheap labor out there our logistics will be unbeatable and we'd get rid of this crowd once and for all, Hamilton, Paine and Jefferson, the whole civilian crew. Phooey. What do they know. Why I'll be Emperor and Pete…well Pete you can park all the stagecoaches. By the way Pete how are things in Congress these days?

 

O Field Marshal I tink sooner or later we'll get da bakery bilt on da floor of the House. We're wasting money allatime sending out for pies.

 

I'm just a poor ol snoljer Pete. I mean far be it from me to interfere with the separation of powers but don't you think the fellows ought to put a little hoi-polloi into the proceedings? People are beginning to lose confidence—they'll decide they don't need us and we'll have free stores free money free land—what will happen to our little ego games if anarchy comes about?

 

A page walked in.

 

Hey chums there's some redskin out here sez he's got a message for you. He's out in the lobby with his valet and tailor.

 

Thank you page, Theda answered, but in the future please address us by our rightful titles…we're a young country and all but…

 

Up yours, the page replied bringing the forefinger of his right hand up with a sharp thrust. The page slammed the door.

 

Dear, dear, Theda sobbed as Pete screwed on his enormous red nose. Did you see that, they won't even appropriate enough money for me to get a first rate office staff.

 

Why do you think da injun's allowed a valet and tailor Theda?

 

O he's the last surviving injun in Yellow Back Radio—Drag Gibson keeps him around in case the Pope wants to visit or something.

 

Chief Showcase, representative of red pow wow, was escorted into the room. The Field Marshal looked around for a chair.

 

Don't bother gents I'll just sit here on the floor. I know things are rough for you Field Marshal, having a freaky bopper peacenik for President and all who has no respect for the military.

 

I was on the way back from gay Paree where I bought this fine Pierre Cardin jacket with fur in the hood and I wanted to stop off to tell the Field Marshal that signs point to an early invasion of Yellow Back Radio. Have a smoke.

 

O thanks Showcase, here try one Peter dear, the soldier said handing one to the Congressman.

 

Cough! Cough! Cough!

 

The conspirator's mouths became smokestacks as fumes filled the room.

 

You know Chief we always regretted the way those rude Western white trash, that human offal wiped out your people like that. It was really too bad.

 

Well Theda if we had had about 50 more troops at Big Horn I'd be the one sitting on that crate and you'd be going around the world reading militant poetry, that is if your ass wasn't on display in some museum.

 

Yeah, funny da way tings turn out ain't it, Pete said fidgeting his huge red thumbs and drawing on a cigarette with two free fingers.

 

Both Theda and Pete began to be wracked by spasms.

 

Easy easy gentlemen, Showcase said slapping them on the back to ease their agony. You must inhale them slowly.

 

When the two men were finished coughing and spitting blood Showcase returned to his seat on the floor in the corner of the room.

 

Now as I was preparing to report…Drag Gibson and the ranch hands were talking about you like a dog. They said they weren't troubled at all about your demand that they join the Union because they knew you didn't have enough troops to make it stick. It was so bad the way they were running you down I cried all the way to Paris.