Ishmael Reed - Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down

So you think by allowing yourself to be humiliated by mortals he’ll respect you too, huh?

No I just wanted to show the world what they were really up to. I’m always with the avant-garde. Seems to me that people are getting sick of daddies. You know—“thou shalt have no other before me”—Tsars, Monarchs, and their deadly and insidious flunkies.

Loop, one last time before you get on your soap box. He wants you to come home too — she’s driving them batty. O Loop she’s so bitchy, you know how she is. He even put a curse on her but she found a way to absorb that. Matter of fact she’s getting a following up there. Both of them are afraid she might start something that’ll make your uprising look quite small.

There was never an uprising, Innocent, you know that. That was some of his propagandists in the late Middle Ages who came up with that idea. Just got sick of that set-up and left. The fool — vagabond with the rucksack on my shoulder — always on the road. That’s me, the cosmic jester. Matter of fact, I’ve always been harmless — St. Nick coming down the chimney, children leaving soup for me — always made to appear foolish, the scapegoat of all history. You and your crowd are the devils. The way you massacred the Gnostics, not to mention the Bogomils, Albigenses, and Waldenses.

Loop, he sent me to do the interrogating…I ask you one more time Loop, end this foolishness and come on home. He built a special district for you, red lights, the works. He sent for some of your bohemian types to keep you and Diane company. You can start a commune if you want, get high, walk around nude, anything you want Loop, just so you satisfy the wench.

No dice, baby.

O.K., Loop, the worldly Pope said rising, I should know that when you have your mind made up on something, nothing can change it. When I get back he’s really going to put me down.

How’s that?

Makes me crawl on my belly toward him and kiss his feet. Some days Loop I can’t stand the place. People singing the same old hymns and he sits there performing the familiar spectaculars — every day. I miss St. Peter’s chug-a-lugging fine brandy with the gang and jamming some strumpets.

Sorry, can’t help you out Innocent, I told the bitch to stay. I almost went out of my mind to suicide, but she went on. As they say, or as he use to say when he tried to con the farmers, pretending he was one of their own, “as ye sow so shall ye reap.”

The Pope’s mission a failure, he left the jailhouse and climbed into the waiting carriage to start the long journey home. Since there was no further need to impress the people of the town, the red bull had been flown out the night before to the ship waiting for the Vatican party.

Sulking, Drag walked to the window of the carriage.

Well Father, too bad you can’t stay for one of our old fashioned lynchings that we Americans love so much and that’s a traditional source of entertainment. Why the hangman just ordered some new gadget special all the way from France for the killing this time. But since you can’t stay, as a token of our appreciation and for “enlightening” us here’s another gift — a plastic hot dog, one foot long, that grew in a swamp in the basement of Kresge’s. How’s about that shit, your Pontiff?

The Pope contemptuously knocked the hot dog from Drag’s hand. Not only was he upset by Drag’s choice of word “enlightening,” but when he got home with the bad news everybody would start crying the blues. Whole choirs for days on end.

You idiot slob, I didn’t come here to kill the Loop Garoo Kid, I came to draw him out, to talk to him. If you think you can do away with him then you Americans are stupider meatheads than the rest of the world gives you credit.

Onward! The Pope snapped his fingers and his caravansary started to roll towards the mountains on its way to the dock.

Drag’s face was long and glum.

Cheer up, Drag, Skinny McCullough said putting his arm about his boss’s shoulder.

Well at least he came to visit. But I guess I’ll have to change my deodorant. He behaved as if…well as if my armpits had bad breath.

Loop Garoo was led from the jail a few hours later. The townsfolk were too cool to jeer.

Drag climbed to the scaffold and, swaying with a bottle of 3X’s in his hand, shoved the part-time trainer and hangman aside. The hangman shrugged his shoulders and removed his black hood. He checked in the time clock on the ground next to the steps and then started home. As long as the execution was performed the Union would see that he got paid. Plus they’d give him a bonus for his suggestion — the guillotine that he had imported to spice things up a bit. He was a typical American worker — what’s in it for me was written all over the guy’s face.

Drag was reading the instructions on the brand new device while the men held Loop Garoo on the platform. The treacherous swine behind the scaffold were tying linen around their necks and held forks in their hooves, so eager were the foul beasts for the poor devil’s head to fall.

Drag swaggered about the scaffold with drops of liquor dripping from the bottle, and some of it running from the corners of his mouth.

Aw this is taking too long. Let’s go home and get high, said one citizen.

Yeah this is corny old fashioned junk anyway, another one responded.

What did you say? Did my ears hear me right? Drag yelled, reeling about the platform as he threw the bottle into the onions, mustard and pickles which littered the area in front of the platform where the Pope had refused his gift.

You want to abandon American institutions, huh!! When you give up your institutions, you ain’t got nothin someone once said. Get back here and watch this good old killing. Make em get up their hands, boys.

The cowpokes stared at the crowd behind their sunglasses and menacingly placed their hands on their holsters.

Where are my servants? I want them to be in on this too, Drag shouted.

They ain’t here, Chief Showcase called from behind the crowd, just me and my blankets. The chinaboy was seen heading towards the lake last night with an armful of blueprints of your tomb. There was a neck topped with a huge revolving eye protruding from the water.

Well I don’t need no tomb anyway, now that I’ve been clued in by the Pope on what was going down in me.

Loop, what you got to say, Drag said holding the blade’s brake as his men shoved Loop’s head to the chopping block.

How do you like this parody on his passion, you old Codger, Loop said staring skyward.

Everyone got a chuckle out of that and even Loop smiled as Drag started to send the blade to split his head from his torso. The hogs behind the scaffold began to pant loud and rude.

All at once the white Chicken Delight truck pulled up to the rear of the crowd with two surviving Yellow Back children swinging from its doors. Their mouths were full of drumsticks. Hey come on, we found it, the Seven Cities of Cibola! It’s as far as you can see from where you’re standing now.

The common folk turned away from the scaffold and sure enough there in the distance could be seen rising a really garish smaltzy super technological anarcho-paradise. The people began to trot in slow motion towards the blue kidney shaped swimming pools, the White Castle restaurants, the drive-in bonanza markets, the computerized buses and free airplanes, the free anything one desired.

O no, Loop complained, not another medieval morality drama with me getting the wooden paddle in the tail at the end.

Hold on, grab them Drag, the lush shouted to his gang.

The cowpokes blocked the people’s progress. Some of them drew shooting irons, others squirted the townsfolk with mace.

If there’s some kind of Cibola place what’s got exploitative possibilities I’m going to be the one to get the coin. Why I’ll be a squillionaire.