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THE SHERIFF'S
PROLOGUE
All laughed at this ridiculous tale
just told
Except the sheriff, separate from the fold,
Who still
stood at the bar nursing his drink.
"I don't give two horseshits what
you think!"
He blurted out, obviously quite drunk.
"What we've heard
is just a lot of bunk!
None of you know life beyond the veil
Of
decency, which is itself a tale
We tell ourselves to make it through
the day.
But now I'll tell a tale about the way
Life is lived
here in America --
Of the Moose and his Angelica,
And a moment of
epiphany
That ought to turn to ice the energy
The New Age idiots
babble on about.
This will shut them up, I have no doubt."
"Now
just hold on!" the bartender complained.
"The point of this is to be
entertained.
Tales ought give us truth admixed with play
So we have
art instead of everyday."
"Well, here's my truth!" the sheriff
growled. "The kind
That leaves not one sweet bit of balm behind.
The
baker said through tales we can know well
Another's truth. So welcome
to my hell!
It's what life is like in our time,
As Christianity
gives way to crime,
And drugs become the quintessential
good
Investors can make profits on. I would
Not want you to go on
with shuttered eyes,
So here's the truth I live, with no
disguise!"
THE SHERIFF'S
TALE
Once there was a dealer in hard
drugs
Who used to kill his enemies with hugs.
He'd snap your
backbone like a walking stick,
Or merely crush your ribs and make you
sick.
They called him in the neighborhood the Moose
Because he
was as big as a caboose,
Six-foot-six, three-hundred-and-fifty
pounds,
All muscle, and his avarice knew no bounds.
He'd always
shortchange customers on weight,
And any who complained soon met their
fate
Within the jaws of death that were his arms.
Among his many
other well-known charms
Was his jealousy about his wife,
The one
soft spot in his granitic life,
Whom like a vicious dog he would
protect,
Warning away all who would inspect
Her opulent treasures,
openly displayed,
So all would know where he alone could
wade.
She loved him, too, her mountain of a man,
And often
passion strongly in her ran,
But she knew well how well to stoke his
fire
And then as well to satisfy desire.
So these two would several
times a day
Be at it like two pigeons hard at play.
This Moose's
wife was named Angelica,
An angel to him, and, in character,
He was
a god to her, both strong and wise,
Colossus that bestrode her
paradise.
One day a dealer that the Moose supplied
Sent two
couriers to go inside
The Moose's house to watch him weigh the
stuff
And make sure that for once they got enough.
For everyone knew
well the Moose would weigh
His finger with the stash they had to
pay
For by the ounce. So these two men intended
To see that they
received what Moose contended.
Al and John they were, two tough young
birds.
When they came, the Moose and they had words,
They
insisting that they had to stay
While Moose their many purchases would
weigh;
The Moose insisting he had naught to hide,
Eventually
allowing them inside.
As he weighed, Moose bragged about his
wife,
How she was the story of his life,
How hot she was, and what
she oft would do
To pleasure him. But these young toughs well
knew
The strategy: To make them look at her
When she came in, at
which time Moose could err
A bit here and a bit there in his
favor,
While they his wife's sweet hanging fruit would
savor,
Looking where their real concern was not.
Among the
stories told to make them hot,
Moose described each afternoon's
delight:
Angelica, in scanty top bedight,
Would lean upon the
windowsill upstairs
While Moose behind would take her unawares
While
she stared at the parking lot below,
Face expressionless, that none
would know
The glory that was going on behind
As Moose thrust in and
then began to grind.
"I'll tell you, boys, that wife of mine's a
treasure!"
Moose said. "There's none on earth like her for
pleasure."
But when she entered, dressed in very little,
Just
briefs and halter, naked round the middle,
Al and John just stared at
Moose's scale
As though they were both hammering a nail
Right into
the center. So the Moose
Stopped weighing weed and told them to hang
loose
For just a moment while he made a call,
Then left the room,
leaving them with all
The millions in illegal drugs
unguarded.
Al and John exchanged a look, then started
To take a
little here, a little there,
While Angelica resumed her stare
Out
the kitchen window at the back,
Then asked them whether they came in
the black
Lamborghini that was parked outside.
"Why, yes," they
said. "We took it for a ride.
Our boss, the Butcher, told us to
impress
Any chick we might want to undress."
"Well, take another
look," she said. "It's gone."
And in a New York minute Al and
John
Were racing out the door to see their car
Spinning left out to
the boulevard.
"Shit!" they said. "Our ass is grass!" And ran
To
get a cab quick, and the mean streets scan,
While Moose weighed out
their purchases as he
Saw fit; that is, not quite
religiously.
When the boys returned, they said they'd found
The
Lamborghini in a marsh, half drowned,
And had their boss's tow truck
pull it out.
"Sorry, boys," Moose said. "Without a doubt,
You
shouldn't park a car like that out here.
These teenagers run wild,
without fear.
They'd shoot you in the head just for your shirt.
So
on your way out, be on the alert."
Moose laughed as Al and John
went out the door,
No two ever wanting vengeance more.
The very
next day the Butcher had a plan
And sent Al and John back in a
van,
Which they parked beneath the second floor
Window in the
afternoon. They saw
The Moose come over to investigate
And shot him
with a tranquilizer straight
Into his chest, enough to stun a
bull,
And while he was staggering, they pulled
Him into the van and
chained him to the wall
Hands and feet, so he couldn't move at
all,
Then stuffed his mouth with rags and covered his eyes
To keep
him still and suffocate his cries.
When he came to, he pulled with
all his might
Against the chains that held his body tight
Against
the van wall reinforced with steel.
But, unlike Samson, no God would
reveal
Himself to him to add faith to his strength.
So even
Moose was forced to yield at length
And hang like meat, defeated, from
the wall
While Al told him in vivid detail all
That was to follow,
so that he might suffer
The full torment that this hell had to
offer.
And when Al made the horror of it clear,
He slashed the
Moose's throat from ear to ear.
Next John slipped inside the
unlocked door
And quietly tip-toed to the second floor
Where
Angelica was in the shower,
Preparing for the still-appointed
hour
When Moose would take her from behind, while she
Stared out
upon the world expressionlessly.
At last she came out in a scanty
top
As John peeked out a closet door, then propped
Herself against
the sill, her lovely face
Emerging as the sign all was in
place.
Al tried to pull the Moose out of the van,
Struggling
with the weight of that huge man.
He tugged and pushed and tugged with
all his might
(Even dead, the Moose put up a fight),
Afraid he'd be
too late, while John above
Entered the sweet precincts of his
dove,
Feeling her wet passion as she came
Against him, muttering the
Moose's name,
By which time Al had got the Moose around
Far enough
to dump him on the ground.
Moose lay on his back, his glassy
eyes
Staring vacant straight up at his wife's,
Who, looking down,
could not at first take in
The fullness of the truth
unraveling
Around her. Then she met her husband's stare
And screamed
a scream no one should ever hear.
Yet hear it still we do, day
after day,
As life goes on in the old modern way
In this, the
century we call 21.
Here I rest my case; my tale's
done.
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