Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down (6 page)

 

Drag removed the scourge from his side and started to whip the cowpokes about the arms and shoulders. I'll be a Son of a Gun, you're not following my orders, I'll have your tongues snipped. He continued to beat them about the posteriors and the heads as they slowly filed out of the House to pursue the Kid. (Actually they rode about the Main House a couple of times pretending to follow the boss's orders.)

 

Drag plopped to the floor bawling like a kid.

 

All of you women clear outta here you're bringing me down.

 

Crying like mad, Drag mumbled to himself:

 

Twas only yesterday or so we burnt down the circus and here he come today. O Lord why did I ever bring nigras to the West—he done gone ahead and got some strange magic he's whipping on me—even trying his hand at heraldry. I got to get the old Woman in the Valley to match him trick for trick.

 

While all of this was happening the new Mrs. Gibson was looking on:

 

A few more strokes like this and the geezer will be a goner, then I'll inherit all the property, she said behind her hand to the audience. She went over to the man and knelt beside him.

 

Anything I can do for you Grandpops? she asked jaws packed with gum.

 

Yeah, get outta here! You smell bad! I want to be left alone. Boo hoo!

 

Suit yourself, the woman said, going upstairs to play with her cards.

 

Then Dr. came into the room from outside.

 

After what I've just seen I need a drink!

 

What did you see Doc? Can't be as bad as what happened here—

 

There was this cowboy—

 

Well the old Woman on the talk show—

 

See we was having the bridal party and—

 

And I never saw anything that even remotely resembled—

(silence)

Go ahead and tell your horror story Drag—

 

No after you Doc—

 

Well see the Old Woman on the talk show called me just as I was on the way to your party and told me to come over to the studio at the Hotel. I went over there Drag and she was packing her earphones and scripts. All the engineers were in the control room, transfixed. She said that the Loop Garoo Kid come in there and put some bad waves into her transmitter. She said the “demons of the old religion are becoming the Gods of the new,” cause he put something on her that had her squawking like a chicken. She said she heard they had openings in Tombstone, Arizona, a nice peaceful one-horse town. She said she was thinking about going legit and pursuing a new career.

 

Drag's mouth was wide open. HOW CAN HE BE IN TWO PLACES AT ONE TIME? HE WAS IN HERE. I SAW HIM HE INTERRUPTED THE WEDDIN PARTY.

 

And just as the two old friends were debating the latest disaster, Skinny McCullough ran into the room:

 

Drag. Doc. The trail boss come in here on a horse. Before he died he said the wranglers the eight cowboys and the cook had been trampled trying to save the cattle who were stampeded by Giant Sloths which is crazy Drag because not only have Giant Sloths been extinct in North America but when they were browsing around the plains they were peaceful at that.

 

Drag fainted. The cowpoke who bore the message stood over Drag, scratching his head in bewilderment. Sobbing passionately the Doc cradled his old friend's head in his lap.

 

The next morning the cowpokes, on every other occasion men of muscle and verve, huddled together sheepishly in their bunk. Skinny was sitting in the middle of the room with his men gathered about him.

 

Don't look like things are going to improve around here a-tall. That Loop Garoo Kid coming on like seance smoke and the boss way overdue with hysteria. I'm not hankering to stay around here any longer. You hear that coyote last night—that shrill howl made beetles creep up and down my spine.

 

I agree with yooz Skinny, another cowpoke said. I'm going to take my roll and gallop on out of here. If he wants someone to herd them cattle he ought to see about importing Eskimos or something they would fit right into this weird irrational discontinuous landscape—cows herded by dogsled over sand, nobody'd know the difference, strung out as the townsfolk are.

 

Upstairs where the Doc urged him to rest after witnessing Yellow Back Radio's fall line-up of stars, Drag turned up the volume of the closed circuit TV. A camera hidden in the hay in the bunk swung around to where his hired hands were deliberating.

 

Hey Chinee, Chinee, bring me a can of beer, this is getting real interesting.

 

Yeah, Skinny continued. Marcia the hurdy gurdy girl I brought up to the House for the wedding party last night said I was loco for working up at this here place. It was becoming the talk of the town what was going on up here and that some of the citizens were having meetings down in the city dump to decide whether to march up here with torches and pour salt on this evil smell.

 

The other cowpokes began to shift their boots nervously and cross themselves.

 

You see the Kid ride off last night? It was as if he were lightning taking a hiatus from nature. Looked like two ghosts were waiting for him. I could see only their outlines in the moonlight.

 

What you say we pick up our gear and make it, Skinny?

 

The other cowpokes needed no encouragement and began to get their stuff together.

 

Suddenly Drag's voice boomed through the intercom:

 

Men come on up here a minute. Something big is cooking on the range.

 

Shall we go Skinny and ignore that command?

 

Naw let's see what the victim wants. He's harmless enough, poor boss, on his last leg.

 

The cowpokes entered Drag's sick room.

 

Men sit down, the waning cattleman whispered. Things are taking an occult turn around this joint. I know it's been trying on you but just so happens that them fossils who climbed from the wall of some museum and wiped out my herd have left me about bankrupt. I need to send my remaining steer to market while it's still time. Thought you boys would be able to do that for me—but I feel some discontent in the ranks. What's your beef men? You can level with me.

 

Boss, might as well tell you…after last night we decided we don't want to go through no routine that Loop Garoo might be spinning from his hideout wherever that strange place might be. Why last night when we chased him after that apparitional episode he came up with at your wedding I'm telling you, boss, he rode off into the night like a comet and there were grim outlines of some other ghosts waiting for him on the hill. We just poor cowpokes Drag, we ain't no wizards or padres, so we decided to collect our money and move on…cut out of here.

 

That's too bad boys cause I just drew up a stiffycate that would divide the land up so's you fellows would receive a slice, sort of people's capitalism. Now we snuffed out them obscene unwashed hooligans and I think we can wipe out a whole battalion of zombies too. Whatya say men?

 

You mean you're going to split up the take of your empire with us?

 

That's what I had in mind Skinny. How else would I repay you men for your loyalty?

 

The men went into a huddle to argue the pros and cons of Drag's proposal. It didn't take too long—for the steerbusters were just as avaricious as Drag Gibson.

 

Well since you put it that way, boss, I guess we can stay around to take another herd up the trail, Skinny finally spoke up, communicating their decision.

 

The men shook Drag's hand and headed back to the bunk. The revolt nipped in the bud, Drag turned on the TV to witness the men trudging down the path on the way back to their chores. The closed circuit TV and the dictaphone stored in the kitchen were good ways to keep tabs on his servants' activities.

 

He reached for the can of beer the chinaboy had brought into the room. He drank some and spat it out.

 

Piss! Goddamn chinamen still up to their pranks. I'll take care of them and them ungrateful cowpokes too as soon as these monsters check out of my life.

 

Drag dozed off. Next to his bed was a clipping he'd cut out of the newspaper.

 

That evening the chinee interrupted Drag's snoring:

 

Two gentlemen to see you Meester Drag.

 

Two men walked into the room.

 

Well if it isn't my old friends Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. Why we died and went to Hell together. Come on rest your moccasins fellows. What brings you out this way to Yellow Back Radio?

 

O we were skin tapping some injun drumbeats and we heard you was sick so we thought we'd drop in and bring you what the injuns call “milk of the great white father” but to us is nothing but good old hooch.

 

Gee that's awfully swell of you Clark, Drag said to the tall red haired man as he and his companion put some whiskey kegs in the corner.

 

We're working for some loon, the President of the United States, and he sent us out here to get some mammoth bones and fish vertebrae. Crazy about fossils. Reads a lot and built a way-out mansion in Virginia. Always tinkering with mechanical devices and writes poetry on the side. A real weirdo, made Lewis his secretary and Lewis can't spell worth a lick, can you Lewis?

 

The buckskinned, bucktoothed, freckled faced man with two lines for eyes said Duh, naw Clark I can't spell worth a lick.

 

Nice set up you got here Drag.

 

O we're trying to get it together Clark. Takes a lot of work but I've done all right since I escaped from hell. Sometimes the decomposition smells and if you get real close you can get a whiff of formaldehyde but I use some heavy deodorants so I'm getting by. So you say you're working for some nut?

 

Yeah, collecting elk horns, the whole bit, but we ran into some Indians. The Mandans and the Arikara treated us real nice. Gave us dogmeat and their squaws to seduce. Man what living—those savages are so naive. We eat so much dog food we feel like barking sometimes, don't we Lewis?

 

Yeah Clark sometimes we're just arfing around through the Valley in heat for injun squaws.

 

The injuns were all skinned out here fellows. Only one left, Chief Showcase. I keep him on for gags.

 

But I'm not in a very joking mood today. Some cowboy—a nigger—is out here putting something on me that I don't know what the nigger's putting on me. Interrupted the wedding.

 

You got married, Drag?

 

Sure. Long black hair, olive complexion, firm tits, a real pretty penny.

 

Hey that sounds like the chick me and you balled on our way coming up the stairs! She asked me and Lewis to lend her three bills so's she could go to the apothecary and fill a prescription for arsenic. Lewis fucked her in the ass while she was blowing me then we put her through a double 69 and passed gas in her face while she stuck pins in the bottom of my feet—we gave her the money and took it out in trade. Sorry we stunk up your staircase Drag.

 

Yeah that sounds like her the way you size her up, fellows. How was it? I got her through the papers.

 

Man it was some good yelling, screaming pussy. She rolled her thighs and moaned so good me and Lewis come all over the rug on your stairs Drag. Sorry about that.

 

Well good, fellows, I'm glad she's warmer than the last one who was a very frigid number. I just married her cause I read in the
Psychiatric Journal
that evil can be passed on through the chromosomes so I decided to have some kids.

 

Gee Drag you're reading all the time. Why you read your way right out of Hell.

 

I don't know. I'm lost if this Loop keeps it up. I got aches all over from last night.

 

Maybe I can recommend something. I am a bit of an occultist pediatrician orthopedist, all that good stuff—maybe I can perk you up there some Drag.

 

Mighty nice of you Clark.

 

The explorer put a poultice and a string of wild onions around Drag's neck, and wrote down some other ingredients:

 

Lewis stood in the corner enthralled with a yo-yo.

 

We'd better be pushing back to the East. Deal with some more of the injuns, Clark said. Most of them are cooperative but the Sioux were a little suspicious when we encountered them. Injun killing runs in the family. Why George Washington Rogers Clark cleaned out the Shawnee's settlements. Killed 10 chiefs, burned 500 Indian cabins and destroyed all the grain. Boy, my pa really loved to cut up. Maybe that
Psychiatric Journal
you was reading is correct there Drag.

 

Clark and Lewis were walking out of the room when something occurred to Clark.

 

Drag you said all the injuns were wiped out. Then what were them drums we heard? Highly intricate rhythms mixed with what Frenchy Jefferson calls gutbucket.

 

Drag thought for a minute:

 

The idea of another tribe inhabiting these hills has about as much authenticity as a horse's dream. Wonder what it could be?

 

Confused, the explorers looked at one another.

 

Wiry spaced out sounds moved across the night outside.