Ishmael Reed: Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down

You mean da famous gunslinger I’ve read about in da lurid sensational yellow kivered books?

That’s the one Pete, the man do nots play — do nots stand for no chump issues. See, he got ringy cause Drag Gibson the cattleman ordered his waddies to burn down a circus troupe the Loop Garoo Kid was hooked up to.

Fact is, gentlemen, Drag is sick now — I don’t think he’s going to pull through. The local jack-leg squaw on the talk show who gives out the produce market reports and dabbles in astrology shut down her scene. The Kid put some cross on her, had some kind of gris gris dolls placed in her transmitter and the Woman had to sign off and get out of town.

Drag even went and got a mail order bride and it wasn’t a week before the Loop Garoo Kid had her running through the mountains in the nude, had done offed with her mind and she was screaming foul nasty things like “make that mojo trigger my snatch one mo time” and mumbling some bad nigger words — you know how they move up and down the line like hard magic beads out riffing all the language in the syntax.

O Red man!! O Red man!! Talk that talk, the Field Marshal said twisting on a crate thrilled to his socks, what jive talking dada you bring us.

Think nothing of it Field Marshal, just hate to see some good cats get a wrong deal. When you going to give me the three colonies?

Soon Showcase soon, if you bring me some more good news like this I’ll be polishing my sword and preparing my Army. Sounds like the West is really vulnerable at this point. By the way Injun, from now on call me Theda, Blackwell said, doll circles of pink appearing on the yellow of his jaundiced face.

It’s a deal Field Marshal, said the injun rising from the floor and pulling his cashmere blanket about his shoulders, taking a few puffs from his diamond hookah with a beaver rimmed mouth piece. Tipping over to the Field Marshal the savage gave Theda a few taps on the thin layer of skin covering his coccyx.

By da way Injun if Drag hired John Wesley Hardin da great Western ghost chaser to get rid of da Kid and Hardin failed how did Drag have da compassion to keep him on? I thought Drag had da heart of Two-Pawed Bitch Wolf of da Plains.

O Drag is still his old name Pete, Showcase responded, his hand on the door knob and looking over his shoulder. Got a sign above John Wesley Hardin’s pigpen chores — sez for two bits see John Wesley Hardin pay heavy dues.

O I see, Pete the Peek said as the door was closing behind Chief Showcase.

One more thing O noble Red man. How will we know when to move our forces on Yellow Back Radio?

I’ll wire you Theda.

Well be sure to wire collect, Pete the Peek said.

No matter Gentlemen I’ll pay for it, anything to help out. In fact Theda here’s some money, why don’t you go out and get some new duds? Don’t want you to come to your new Palatinate looking like a bum. Show the cowpokes you got class.

O no I can’t take your Indian Bureau check Chief Showcase.

Never you mind, Theda, you deserve it, the abuse that a great military mind like yours has to take.

Well if you insist Chief. When Peter and I take over that territory you’ll be set for life. Why you can have your little happy hunting ground right now here on earth.

I know you’ll keep your word you fine white gentlemen, the Indian said as he walked out of the Field Marshal’s office.

Field Marshal I don’t want to dispute what da redman said, but don’t you tink we ought to get a clean white man in here to give us da facts from da point of view of Science?

O what were you saying Peter? a blushing Theda Blackwell asked.

O drat it Theda can’t you keep your mind on da affairs of State? With him lost in agrarian reveries and with my problems (catching flies!), one of us has to keep our heads.

Your problems Peter?

I’ve become a very complex freak, Theda baby, Peter said pulling his pockets inside out. Why I can grope grok frink — you name it. On da way over here I even learned to geek. So now I can geek as well as peek.

O Peter with such a crisis mounting don’t fun me now please be serious.

Peter threw up his hands.

Well I guess I have to show you — you asked for it.

Peter went to the control and pressed a button. The page walked in, a clothespin fastened to his nose. He carried a chicken by the neck. A real live chicken.

The Page threw the chicken at Pete the Peek who expertly plucked the chicken’s feathers and then devoured the fowl — feathers, coxcomb, gristle, feet disappearing into his mouth.

Theda looked around for a lavender sink. He was sleepy, see, and thought he was still at home. He ran to the window and released his insides on passing tourists.

Hey what’s going on up dere, buddy, and, you a wise guy? and other choice Americana expletives rose from the sidewalk below.

Pete approached Theda with a wishbone.

So you see Theda my problems are very serious and thought out.

Theda looked around and pulled the larger half of the bone.

To da conspiracy Theda!!

To the conspiracy Peter!!

A noise was heard at the window. Pete hurriedly put the wishbone into his coat pocket. Harold Rateater, Government Scientist, opened the window and stepped into the room. In one hand he carried a jar filled with smoke and dying insects. He was dressed in a plaid tight-fitting suit and wore a loud bowtie, his hair pasted with staycomb and parted down the middle. He did a mummy-walks-again stride across the room until he stood before Pete and Theda.

My goodness will you please knock next time Harry?

Don’t have to Pete, I’m such a smart operator dat I defy da laws of nature. I walk in and out of windows instead of doors. Besides, understand you want to peep through my long glass at dat Loop Garoo Thingamubob unidentified flying phenomenon what’s been zooming around.

Please sir! the Field Marshal said, please break it down so that the laity might understand.

In otha words dis is some bad noos for Yellow Back Radio — the Prez ought to be informed at onct — but I got da long glass so what’s in it for me? he said gripping the telescope.

Pete was furious. What do you mean what’s in it for you? We just appropriated a whole row of iron men so’s Dr. Coult could study a rifle dat wouldn’t leak gas and get jammed chambers. What more do you guys want?

Theda removed a mallet from his satchel and hit Pete on the head with it. A large lump rose and its peak was immediately occupied by a grey sparrow that flew in through the window.

Ouch! Field Marshal Theda whattaya have to go glunk me on da bean like dat for? the statesman complained.

Forgive Peter, Harold Rateater Government Scientist, he doesn’t know any better. Having come up through the ranks he hasn’t developed the respect for SCIENCE that a military man like myself has.

Dat’s more like it chum, Harold Rateater said, counting the wad of green backs the Field Marshal forked over. Well who wants to look first?

Theda walked over, bent down and looked through the telescope which stuck out of the window.

Field Marshal Theda Blackwell could see into the Cattle Baron’s bedroom. He saw the straws in cups of orange juice, the pills, the heavy breathing of Drag Gibson, and his Doctor friend listlessly staring through the window.

O this is too much, Theda said rubbing his frail thin hands together.

Come let me look too dere Theda, I’m da professional voyeur who’s suppose to advise and consent like in da constitootion.

Pete the Peek gazed through and it was cookies. Plain cookies.

Yellow Back Radio was indeed falling apart, its batteries were going on the bum, and soon the whole kit and kaboodle would blow a fuse.

The sheep are happier of themselves, than under the care of wolves.