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"WUNDER WATERS"-GRIZZLY FILES, NO. 32 Dearest mangy muttonheads, Once again, y'all gots ta
read the last tew 'stallments fer ya ta know what the hail you's alookin' at this time. Sorry I gots ta put ya thru it but ifn
ya don't, nuthin'll make sinse. Sos, jus' go tew: Nope, I aint sorry, ya lazy, good-fer-nuthin' sons-a-bitches.
Let's git back tew whar we
left off. With nuthin' else able ta go wrong here short a me abein' eatin' by a
bar when I aint alookin' an' aconcentratin' on this here dang story, maybe I kin
finish. …Well, not abein' one ta
take "no" fer an answer an' give maself up fer daid jus' yet, I slaps
maself good agin an' nearly takes out a toof. An' I was definitely awokened
'cause thar I was in ma li'l roun' tube-of-a-room back ta the way it was but I
was jus' like I seen maself in ma dream, afloatin' on ma back. Now, how could
that be?
What I couldn't see in ma
dream was that that almost-afilled-with-water, aturned upsidedown ol' bucket was
aproppin' ma haid up by jus' the bottom rim abarly astickin' outa the soup an'
ma boots musta had ar bubbles in 'em fer me ta float that way. Lucky I didn'
drownd right then an' thar as I lost ma balance asplashin', atakin' in a lot a
water an' acoughin' ma guts up.
Well, I empties out the
bucket best I kin an' aturns it upside down agin, astretchin' them s'penders
back over it. Gots ta sleep, now, sos tomorra--AN' THE PREACH--kin come. An' tew,
sos I don't go off astartin' ta wunder in the dark here, ifn I gots sum thick,
long, slippery, wiggly company in here with sharp teef an' a attitude what's
abeen asleep all this time on the bottom. Caint eat IT ifn it eats ME first, I
reckons. Sos, I stays as still as I kin, an' falls asleep agin.
It's mornin' on the third
day, by golly. An' I'm afeelin'
good enuf ta dive down an' sneak up on that fat, ol', asnoozin'-his-life-away
sea snake er whatever it is I've been apissin' on all this time an' choke the
livin' shit outa him before breakfast. Hay, tew bad I haint gots that tethered,
ol' buzzard with me. then, I could go fishin', instead, huh? ...I know, maybe
thars a drainplug down thar in the middle a the floor I could pull an' watch the
ugly, dang thing agasp an' athrash hisself ta deaf on the floor. Naaa... That
wouldn' be kind er sportsmanlike... Would flush the torlet, tho. Nosir, I'd
needs ta stomp its butt good an' quick sos ma repitation won't git tarnished.
Wyyy, I couldn' never look them nature-luvin', tree fanciers in the eye EVER
agin... Could I?
Well, I'm alookin' up
awunderin' all mornin' long, jus' how I'm agonna scale that thar slippery wall
an' akeepin' an sharp eye peeled, I might add, fer the preach an' the boys ta
show up with seafood seasonin' an' mesquite chips. "Yep," I sez ta
maself, "ifn that ol' bucket was only rubber, wyyy, it'd double as a huge
suckshun cup an' I could probly, plop-plop ma way ta the top." Another hour er so passes an'
I'm finally done with all the luncheon plans. An' I looks up thar agin an'
reminds maself that ifn them Skinners don't show up soon, that fish is agonna go
bad...(sniff, sniff)...Hay, it's astartin' ta turn already. "Hurry yer
asses, yew no-account sons-a-bitches!" I yells out loud an' then agrabs ma
mouf afearin' ta wake the slithery, ol' "dozer" an' not be
ready with knife an' fork ta defend maself... Then, araisin' ma voice, I yells
out ta nobody... "Does ya bake
a fish with a apple in its mouf, tew?" "Oops!" I grabs ma mouf
agin. "Hay," The light an' shadows astarts adancin' on the mossy bricks agin an' I gits all excited. "Howdy boys," I yells up, "The drinks er on me!... "OH SHIT!" It's jus' them tew devourin' deviates I calls ma friends, agin. Sum friends they is. Caint even git me outa here ta eat me, no less... Only good fer settin' the table an' arrangin' the flowers...an' only sumtimes at that... I gots no energy left... "...But, hay, maybe I
could jus' dew sump'um here," I sez ta maself, "...Hmmm, like start a
war. YEAH! Wyyy, with decent bullshit, I could turn them tew good-fer-nuthin's
against ‘Mr. Finney’, down here an' vysa-versa by atalkin' shit inta the ear
a each. Yep, an' have 'em ameet half way up the wall ta have it out good an'
proper...an' I wouldn' needs ta spind no energy. Then, I'd asnnnnatch 'em up,
tinderize...cook...an' eat. Simple! Now, THAT's 'ficiency in the kitchen, by
golly, an' I wouldn' nary hafta lift a finger, heh, heh...
'Course, I'd hafta promote
the fight an' all an' offer a prize ta the winner...like...how 'bout a shiny,
new roastin' pan? ...An' ta the loser, hail I dunno, ...wyyy, he'd hafta slice
up the veg'tables an' garnish fer hisself, an' take a bath in the marinade er
sump'um, I s'pose.
"Yew is fair weather
friends, ya know!" .........I sings, "I gots a see-cret; y'all come
down ta meeeet 'im. .........I'm on ta yew...Nope, yew is FOWL weather friends,
heh, heh, heh, (I jus' kill maself). Buuttt, friends yew is, none-the-less, I
figgers. Gots ta respect that..." Then, I feels another song acomin' on:
"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm aloozin' ma mind an' I don' care, Jimmy Crackcorn
an' I don' care... Dang, I'm good in here..."
"HEY BUZ, HEY BUD, does
yew shave them haids-a-yores ta slip inta them intestynes easier er is ya jus'
atryin' ta be fashionable? Aint yer best look, ya know. Buz, ...I think fer
yeewww: close-cropped har an' 'muttonchops'. An' Bud, ...how 'bout a pageboy an'
one a them li'l 'villain' 'stashes? Think about it 'fore ya say 'no'. ...I dunno,
ask aroun' ...See what other folks athink. ...Them white collars amakes up fer
the bad dew, tho. Almost respectable, like alterboys aprayin'... APREYIN'. Git
it? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, heh, heh..."
"Yew boys agit yerselves
sum long-ass straws an' yew kin suck down sum a ma famous 'Griz 'n' Fish
Chowder'. ...It'll take the edge off. ...The least I kin dew."
"Oh, an' don'tcha go
eatin' any a them lizards out thar. Them's mine. I done staked ma claim."
SAY, I wunder ifn them boys done found the gold they was alookin' fer. ...Probly
down in Mexico ba now alivin' it up like kings, damm'em! Probly agittin' drunk
an' aserviced good... An', here I am atakin' the bath, alright, but no soiled
senioriter afterwards, nowhar, nohow. ...Aint right.
"Hay boys, I gots an
idear: Buz, yew grab Bud's wing an' Bud, yew astretch yer other wing far as ya
kin down ta me an' I'll astretch maself up ta yew an' then y'all pulls with
everthing's ya gots,...no?" "Y'all don't be ashittin' on me, now. aint polite... Shucks, yew caint shit on me 'cause yew haint ate me, yet. What's the matter with me? ...HAY JESUS, sir. Ifn them tew eats me an' I'm saved, does that mean thems automatic'ly atakes on ma savin'? THAT aint right! Nosir. Sorry I asked..."
Wait! Maybe thar is sum hope
fer them tew, nasty critters, after all... Since, I don't s'pect they'd have it
in 'em ta figger out Jesus an' his savin' power, maybe I kin help 'em ta git
respectable in the eyes a the townspeople an' God, tew. Have ta git 'em each a
good job, I would, ta git 'em ta makin' a contribution ta the community. Now,
what could the tew a them dew? ...Hmmm, ...Well, with li'l tiny tophats, they
could be a coupla dang-fine unnertakers. ...Mighty convenient that they's
dressed fer it, already.
An', they could call 'emselves
"Buzzard Brothers Mortuary". Hail, they could save folks a whole lot a
money by amakin' caskets a fraction a the size an sell economy-sized,
multi-family burial plots, afashioned after a tic-tac-toe board. Yep, I asmells
big business, here. An', ifn the friends a the humin deceased feller was mostly
buzzards, the dang funeral dinner wouldn' cost the fambly no arm an' a leg, heh,
heh. Hardly a scent, I reckons."
But, ta dew that, they'd
hafta git 'emselves a public awarness campaign agoin' ta incourage folks ta git
out an' git friendly with the critters an' atake 'em unner thems' wings, heh,
heh. Wyyy, this here thing could be huge. Them tew boys, with the right
guidance, could even open 'emselves up a food concession on the side, with li'l
er no overhaid. 'Course, ifn that thar food business was ta become a five-star
buzzard eatin' place an' it bacame fashionable fer reg'lar folks ta be seen a-eatin'
thar, hail, we humins could all end up abein' cannibulls an' not even know it.
Gruesum. But, I caint aworry 'bout that, now. Thars money ta be made."
"An', ifn that li'l
obstacle didn' come ta no mind ta no one er it didn' happen atall, wyyy, they'd
be first-class citizens in no time. An', ifn they was ta keep the prices down
fer the sake a all the buzzard famblies, we could go tell God... Yep, we's on ta
sump'um." Ya know, ifn I could help the critters ta be respectable AN' profitable, with the undertakin' business an' alla them spinoffs, maybe we could harness Muleskinner knowhow an' teknology ta them varmints... lit'rally, an' make a buck, usselves. We all knows how hard it is fer saloons from the banks a the Mississippi ta the shores a Californie ta git them whiskey an' beer shipments from back East. Hail, thars alweez a shortage, don'tcha know, even tho everone knows that thar's whar the REAL wealth is in them gold an' silver boomtowns. Wy, all them miners an' prospectors spinds the ore on whiskey as much as they dew on wimmens er food.
What I'm aproposin' is this:
that we has twinty-buzzard teams aharnessed together an' aflyin' whiskey barrels
in ever week er so instead a ever month ba wagon. Then, as unnertakers, tew,
they gits all the daid gamblin', brawlin', gunfightin' cowboys what apiles up
after Saturdie nights in all them minin' an' cowtowns as added inscenteeve.
Yep, I'm no less than a
"fishinary". An' I could be President an' Captain Ball could be Vice
President ( good title fer that ol' boy) an' we could have a whole boardroom
full a buzzard advisors an' k’rect-lookin’ shills. Yessir, no end ta the
scope a this here breyin' storm, huh?
'Course, ifn the dang
varmints ever agits 'emselves organized, they could even agive them cattle
barons, mine operators, bankers AN' POLITICIANS a run fer their money as ta
who's agonna run the West. Yep, us humans gots ta ride herd on them critters er
they could even atake over this here half a the country an' acall it "The
Buzzard States of America". Caint have that. I, fer one, couldn't take
another "War 'Tween The States", could yew?
An' the issue dividin' the
nation would be whether "whiskey fer bodies" was a good an' moral
idear er not. That would be the issue on the surface, 'acourse, an what alla the
newspapers would git behind. But, ta alla us smart fellers, it would really be a
all out buzzard vs. humin grab fer power, I'd wager,...ifn it was bar-nakid an'
lit up, that is.
An', 'acourse, them
buzzards'd be apayin' off them humin politicians sump'um fierce, allright, an'
afundin' the seecession movement, can'tcha see? Nope, Caint even have them
varmints asendin' thems' dang, bought-'n'-paid fer, carpetbaggin', alobbyin'-type
sons-a-bitches ta Washington ta
barter fer even a state er tew. Nosir. Gots ta nip that one it the butt. While
we gots ta incourage them vultures ta git emselves all the more asocializin' ta
build thems' ranks fer our coast-ta-coast, pony-express-type whiskey runs, we
gots ta keep a lid on the whole bird population. That way, they don't become the
majority an' avote us humin landowners right outa our statehoods. Make Sinse?
An', 'member this: whosumever
controls the whiskey outchere in the West, controls the peoples. An', we shurly
wouldn' want us peoples told what ta dew by no smelly, nasty ol' buzzards, now,
would we? Even spruced up, asprayed an' with moufs washed, we wouldn't. I'm awake, now, with a dang bloody nose. I didn' need that along with everthing else. Wy, I'm agittin' lighthaided, tew...Feels kinda good... Hay, yew don't 'spose alla this here soup is really jus' dirty whiskey, dew yew? Yep, tastes jus' as bad but, by gum, it gits ya thar. ...GOLD,HUH!...Look what I gots fer yew boys. "Wy, I'm the hee-ro, not Colorada er Deadeye," I sez out loud." ........Shore hope this here blood don't tip off ma scaly cellmate below me that dinner's on... I dozes off agin...
When I wakes, I figgers it's
the end a the day 'cause it's agittin' real dark, real fast. "Must be way
past sundown," I mutters ta myself. Alla sudden, I hears a clap a thunder
aways off an' NOW it's agonna rain on me. "Cursed water," I sez,
" Either tew little er tew much... Least it's clean this time."
"LORD." I yells,
"NOW, THIS AINT FUNNY. I SAID I WASN'T INTA NO MORE JOKES. AINT FUNNY ATALL....Yew
come down here an try agoin' thru the magnatood a shit I been thru. ...Oh, ya
did?"
"I dew likes yer sinse a
humor, tho. But, bring sum sunshine down here, please. I'm afreezin'. That cold
rain is agonna cool off ma warm bath, allright. Hay, it aint the rainy season.
It haint rained in months. Mus' be arainin' up thar in them mountains, sumwhars,
right now. MAYBE I'M DAID...An' in Purgatory fer a spell. (Hay, I wunders how
that ol' boy's adoin', Purgatory that is. I luvs that boy.)" Well folks, it didn' rain on me all day er inta the night but, shore 'nuff ma bathwater was acoolin' off 'cause the ar was cool with a strong wind ablowin out thar. I'm akickin' ma feet ta try ta keep the blood aflowin' but ma whole body was agittin' icy cold an' I feels deaf acreepin' in tho I don't see no black-cloaked son-of-a-bitch asneakin' aroun' apointin' his bony finger, yet... I'm shur ma tew feathery friends has agiven up on me ba now an' has 'scused 'emselves long ago. Probly ahaided to the nearest eatin' place fer a beer an' a san'widge ta git outa the rain. "Sissies," I sez.
Then, thar's a ray a hope in
ma dark future. I hears a rumble aways off agrowin' stronger. …"HOOFBEATS",
I sez with a new burst a energy. "Twinty-five er so a them Muleskinners
agallopin' at top speed in' the howlin' rain alead by the preacher, God luv 'im,
with a 'Griz er bust' banner aflappin' behind em!" I sez with glee.
"It's thems, I say. Yeah, an' it's agittin' louder." When I comes tew, it's light an' I sees ma soggy self still ahangin' ta that thar bucket ba one frayed ol' s'pender an' I was ajammed up against the side by alla the debree the flood brung in. "I'M STILL ALIVE!" I sings out. I knows this on account a this huge 'ol sore knot here on ma noggin. I wundered jus' how much water had apoured in as I opened ma eyes agin ta cal-cyew-late the new level. Well, I gots ta tell ya, ma mouf dropped an' afilled with water as I ascanned the only tew-an'-a-half feet a wall 'tween the new water level an' the top a the well. I'm all eyeballs as I yells, "WELL, BLESS MA SOUL! I'M FREE!". The flood musta dumped SO much a this here water an' SO much a the town's crap down thar, it musta shoved the water an' me up here an' agive me a new lease on life. "Thank yew, dear Jesus. This is a bloody miracle. I knew you'd save me after alla a them nasty, dang pranks."
With an' unexpected rush a
energy, I was able ta shinny ma 'machiated, ol' bones up an' aroll maself over
the rocky top surface a the wall an' off onta the groun'. The blisterin' hot sun
felt goood on ma blue, wrinkled carcass. That ol' flood had come an' went as if
it had never been thar an' the sand had adrunk up alla the water as if thar had
been none atall. "I caint b'lieve it, Lord. Look what yew done 'acause a them dangfool brother Skinners a mine what was tew drunk er lazy fer yew ta leads 'em ta me. I fully b'lieves yew kin walk on water er part the Red Sea awatchin' yew apush that buncha water ma way today, like ya done. Thank yew, thank yew. Ya know, that ol' preach aint sa bad a feller. I forgives 'im fer not abotherin' 'bout me. Ifn yew kin save the likes a me, caint yew dew sump'um fer him? I b'lieve ya kin." "Wait, now. ...Hold on, now. ...That well wadn' actchooly no big fish disguised as a well apukin' me up like it done after three days...an' my name aint actchooly Jonah, is it? Am I crazy? ...No matter. I knew you'd save ma rotten butt 'acause yew gots that great sinse a humor, right Lord? Wyyy, I'm agonna dew a li'l gig an' asing a li'l song fer ya when I gits ma strength back...ifn I don't starve first. THAT would be the WORST, dang practical joke I'd EVER seed aplayed on ANYone. That aint like yew, Jesus. I aint agonna worry." Hmmm. ...Maybe the cuzzins, aunties an' uncles a them tew ol' lizards I ate is up-an-about jus' awaitin' fer ma snack time. Thems aint none the wiser that I knows jus' how good thems tastes an' the hand a friendship is really the claw that catches, heh, heh. But I aint agonna make maself no jerky belt with no dried lizards ahangin' all aroun', nosir. When I gits ma fill, I'll spare the rest a them's li'l hides jus' like yew spared mine, dear Jesus. Thank yew. Ma hoss was gone an' them buzzards, tew. An' I was asquish-squishin' across the squar ta the road outa town. But I knew I couldn' git far. Ma laigs was athreatenin' ta give out on me. Sos, I stumbled tew a ruined, North-facin' stretch a wall an' adropped maself inta the shade half propped up ‘gainst the wall an' fell asleep... "Hay mister, mister," a voice was acallin' tew me in ma dream...but t'weren't no dream. As I asnapped tew, a man an' a woman in a covered buckboard was asittin' thar in the road an' they WAS acallin' tew me. "Hay mister. What in thunderation er yew doin' atakin' a siesta outchere at this time a year in this heat? Ya dang fool. Wyyy, when the sun a creeps across the sky sum an' amoves the shade off yer bones, yew's agonna dry up like a prune an' be buzzard bait ta boot. Is yew hurt er jus' drunk?" "I aint hurt much," I sez, "but I haint eaten in days an' caint hardly move." Then, they asings out almost together, “Whar's yer hoss an whar's yer waterskin? Hows come yew aint daid? Me an Maw is agonna take ya up with us ta the homestead jus' a mile away an' agive ya a bunk ta rest up in an' ta git yer strength back." They agits down an' asteps over ta me. "I'm obliged tew ya," I sez. "Gimme a hand, Martha." "What happened tew ya, anyhow, out thar?" he asked as we was ahaidin' off down the road. "Wellsir," when the preacher wasn't awatchin', the dang buzzard done knocked me inta the well. Then, the flashflood araised the water level high enuff..." "Hold on thar, mister," she interrupted, has yew been asmokin' sump'um er achawin' on that thar locoweed?" Thar haint been nary a drop a rain in these parts fer agoin' on eight months an' our crops is ruined." "Tin months, Maw," corrected the man. "Oh, it looked threatenin' yesterdie, allright, an' thundered an' lightnin'ed a bit up in them mountains but no rain came down atall here in the flats," he sez.
"Impossible," I sez,
"because I..." "That's the gospel," sez she, interruptin' me
agin. "But,..." "But nuthin'," she sez. "Don't try ta
lie tew us. ...Paw, I think this ol' boy is delirious. Gots ta git 'im tew a
doctor." Then I gits quiet athinkin' an' adouble checkin' as ta jus' how
them recent evints went down. ...Then, after a bit...
"DANG!"
Well, that's how it went, boys an' girls...an' that's the gospel. Yores still, Griz
P.S. An' I aint takin' NO bath NO more, NEVER. Sos, y'all don't go suggestin' nuthin' ever agin, yew hear?
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