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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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