Ishmael Reed: Yellow Back Radio Broke-Down

Aw come off it Drag, one of the children swinging from the Chicken Delight truck yelled, act normal will ya?

The townsfolk booed Drag, some of them giving him the razzberry, others the bird.

Throw the bum out, they screamed pinching their noses.

A cavalry charge sounded. It was the Government arriving in an invasion fleet of taxis around the bend and into the town.

Theda Blackwell leaped from the lead auto and was about to read a hastily written decree to the crowd when he saw Drag looking robust and swaying on the scaffold. He nervously glanced at Showcase to the rear of the crowd for an explanation but Chief Showcase shrugged his shoulders giving the Theda a what-do-you-want-from-me-already type stare and returned to munching on an ice cream sandwich one of the children had given him.

Very well, Theda said. Drag Gibson in the name of the Queen I place you and your men under arrest.

The Field Marshal was dressed like a Dresden Doll. His wig had been curled dressed and talcumed. His cheeks and lips were tinted. He wore a tiny patch of black court plaster on his face. Gold lace decorated the sleeves of his wine colored frock coat. He wore white stockings which reached his knees and evening pumps.

All of Drag’s bulldoggers rolled about in the dust, they were laughing so at this tenderfoot coming out of the blue.

Theda’s earrings shook slightly as he summoned the rest of his party: Pete the Peek and his sleuths who wore trench coats and black slouch hats.

O funny huh, said Theda. Yes I know that you in the West think we’re panty-waist style and we may be by your standards, but don’t forget we’re the ones with the Industrial Revolution. Take em, boys.

The sleuths behind them turned their rat noses and meat cleaver jaws towards the Skinny McCullough and the rest of the men from the Purple Bar-B.

Ray Guns!!!

The cowpokes tried to draw but they were no match for Harold Rateater’s latest toy. Sheath after sheath of strange lights flashed on their bodies and they melted slowly into a pile of goo.

Drag was pop-eyed, standing on the scaffold and tottering.

We’ll settle this your way, we’ll show you that we’re gentlemen, Drag Gibson.

Suits me fine, Drag said. I may be a little rusty but I’m sure I can outdraw you.

The Field Marshal and Drag began to pace backwards but suddenly Drag’s arms were moving like windmills as he tried to balance himself on the edge of the platform. He disappeared into the little yard behind this grim stand.

Noisy and much munching was heard from the greedy and unnatural animals who dwelled there.

The Field Marshal flanked by Pete and his stooges started once again to read the decree annexing Yellow Back Radio to the East.

Suddenly spears flew from the summit of the Mountain overlooking Yellow Back Radio.

The sleuths, Pete the Peek and Theda, groaning, tried to remove the spearheads deeply buried in their chests. Soon men lay wasted in the streets. They resembled the scribblings of little children — sticks for arms and circles for heads.

Wow! said the cabbies.

Gee whiz! said the townsfolk. The Government is been wiped out.

That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you all along, said the children. Come on, let’s go, the late late late show is about to begin on the boob toob and we can watch eating Pooped Out Soggies.

Everyone arm in arm started bopping towards the gleaming Cities in the distance. Some even slopped, and a few solid sender old timers who could remember broke out into some very heavy trucking. Theda’s page trailed along doing the camel walk.

Big Lizzy shared a two-seated bicycle with Chief Showcase.

They all ignored the Loop Garoo Kid left standing on the scaffold and cheated out of his martyrdom. He watched the crowds disappear in the clouds of dust. He climbed down from his prospective punishment ignoring the hogs, whose jaws were swollen with Cattleman à la carte.

He rode rapidly over the Mountain and off into the distance in an effort to catch up with the Pope’s ship.

At the summit of the Mountain husky women with stubs for left breasts were putting their remaining spears into pouches made from hides of oxen.

The Amazons watched the mob working out joyfully towards the futuristic scenes in the distance. All along the way black flags furled in the breeze. They sat on their horses and some prepared the dayglo paint which circled their eyes. You would think that these women, barefooted and clothed in leopard skin, having just left the neolithic, would be more than glad to go off to where machines were servants and could do everything from dig irrigation ditches to baby sitting — where even old people were free to watch the movies since machines would from now on change diapers, where engines punched in instead of men.

The Amazons preferred their own thing. It was a big world wasn’t it? And who cared as long as no one starved and everybody could swing the way he wanted.

The Amazons rode back to their forests. Having disposed of certain biological accidents they would have a celebration tonight. There would be much wine drunk, dancing and messages to be sent out to other liberated tribes.

Hey Matthew, said one pig to his greedy and carnivorous companion who was nibbling the plumes of a Napoleon hat.

What do you want Waldo?

Pretty good week here for us pigs ain’t it?

Yeah guys. First that tomato topped with the rose and then this fat head we just et was sho nuff good child.

Yeah that guy was real tasty, especially the bull’s sperm on top of his jughead. Wow, that dish was better I’ll bet than those heads we got cheated out of they stole for that traveling lecture room.

Yeah Matthew, the other pig said. You know that guy’s got me running.

Well there’s a piece of paper over there in the mud, maybe you can wipe with that.

Waldo made it on all fours to the piece of paper lying in the mud.

Hey it’s a note that dropped out of the guy’s pocket we just made mincemeat of. O an imperial note from the Pope. It looks important.

The two pigs placed their right hoofs to their chests.

Think I could use it? Nobody in this town; it’s becoming a ghost town. Besides ain’t no Pope suppose to be visiting the States until New York 1966…

The startled pigs looked at each other.

Hey, this creepy town, let’s get out of here.

The two pigs with tails curled hoofed it towards the Black Forest surrounding Yellow Back Radio and the sun began to set as it rained on the note in the swinepit behind the gallows:

It has lately come to our ears, afflicting us with bitter sorrow, that many persons have abandoned themselves to devils, and by their incantations spells and other charms and crafts have slain human infants as well as the offspring of cattle, have withered the crops of the earth the grapes of the vine the fruit of the trees. Men women beasts of burden herd beasts and animals with terrible aches and sore disease. They outrage the Divine Majesty and are the cause of scandal and danger to very many.

Arriving tomorrow with tool box.

Loop Garoo, whiplashing the green horse, galloped furiously to a cliff overlooking the sea. He could see the Pope’s ship heading towards the horizon, oars rowing in steady rhythm and the shields of his guard reflecting the dim rays of the setting sun.

Loop hesitated on his horse for a moment then, still in the saddle, plunged in. With his rider fastened to him the animal swam towards the Pope’s ship which was heading back to its point of origin.

Man and horse overboard! came a cry from the crow’s nest.

The Pope chomping on a havana rushed to the ship’s railing. Well I’ll be damned, and hallelujah, here comes the Loop, the Pontiff smiled. Thomas Jefferson was out of a job but that was O.K. too.