The World of Computer Software/World_Of_Computer_Software-02-387-Vol-3of3.iso/r/rubyv19.zip/RUBY19-3

Text File | 1993-02-15 | 11KB | 178 lines

Copyright 1993(c)
                  WHAT THE GOVERNMENT MAN SAID
                        By Franchot Lewis

     My friend Bubba is in jail again. It isn't his fault - so he
says. He was home minding his own business, bothering no one when
this Arkdack came swooping down from the sky and attacked his dog.
Bubba has this old half-blind hound dog that he inherited from his
late Uncle Zeke. None of the other relatives wanted the dog. Bubba
said, the hound is about a thousand years old in dog years.
     Anyway, Bubba was outdoors laying on a lawn chair, enjoying
the April sunshine. He had his winter jacket buttoned to the top
button because every few minutes a wooly breeze came by and buzzed
him - like the old wind was messing with him, pestering him,
telling him to get himself back in the house 'cause it wasn't
Spring yet, and the winter wasn't through with him yet, either.
     "Hmmm ..." Bubba paid no attention to anything, but to his
need to get outdoors and to lie in the strong sun. His wife Sissy
was cleaning house. Bubba said, she was twirling around in a circle
like a cyclone and leaving no thing, body or object, alone.
     It is the usual story, Bubba said. Let the first sign of
Spring poke its green little head through the thick layer of
cellophane the wife put up over the windows, and the insanity
begins. The wife turns into a menace with the single purpose of
working her poor husband to death.
     I asked Bubba to explain.
     "All winter long," he said. "Wives behave themselves. It's
cold and they are glad to have a warm man in bed with them, and
they don't bother you with a lot of doings and so, as long as you
take regular showers the wife is happy. But, then, comes the first
sign of Spring and they get very particular about everything,
themselves too, and their house, and their bedroom, and you -
specifically you."
     "Oh?"
     "Sissy said I am getting a pot belly," Bubba said. "All winter
she kept stuffing me with stuff, now she wanted me thin. She got
me fat, made me eat, got a hurt look when I hesitated to finish my
plate. She said, Are you feeling okay? I said, Yes, dear. She said,
Your plate isn't clean. And I cleaned it. Now, she was trying to
sweat me - still thinks she's going to sweat me lean."
     Bubba told me that his wife wanted him to take up jogging. He
refused so she tried to sweat him by getting him to move this piece
of furniture, and that piece. She had him lift up and hold that
couch and that sofa while she swept under it. She had him climb the
step ladder and pull down all the drapes and the blinds so she
could wash them. Worst of all - she had him listen while she
discussed the various shades and hues she could possibly use to
repaint their bedroom.
     "Discussing colors of paint," Bubba uttered with disgust as
he told me this. He cared less what color his wife painted their
bedroom. Bubba bucked. He escaped outdoors, telling his wife that
he was tired.
     "Huh?" his wife said.  She followed him outside and began to
fuss. "You're not going to run away," she said. "Do you hear me?"
she asked. "Do you? Are you deaf? You can't hear? You lazy son of
a --.  Aren't you going to help me?"
     Bubba said, he said nothing. He sat down, and as his butt
touched on the cushion in the soft lawn chair's seat a feeling of
relief rushed forth. He leaned all the way back and kissed the warm
sun rays that flooded into his face.
     God, it was good to lie down. His wife kept fussing for five
minutes before she gave up and returned to the house. Bubba said
he wasn't alone for another five minutes before the Arkdack swooped
down and began the chain of events that led to his arrest. Bubba
had his eyes closed. The sun's rays were bright and he thought, if
Sissy was peeping out at him from the window she would think he was
asleep and would not come out to bother him again.
     Bubba said, he suddenly felt cold as if a great hand had come
over the sun and was blocking out the warmth. He heard a loud
flutter of wings, and a swoosh of wind like a sudden squall had
come. He heard the old dog bark, then whine. His eyes opened and
he jumped.
     The Arkdack was attacking the dog. Bubba said, he didn't know
what kind of a bird it was. He had never seen such a big, ugly
bird. It was a monster, almost two feet. It looked three or five
feet long. It had the old dog pinned to the ground. Bubba said, for
a moment he froze, stilled by the way the Arkdack's talons stuck
out, razor-like, and like pincers, into the dog's neck. Bubba said,
the old dog bent close to the ground, and went down each time the
bird stretched its claws, and fanned its wings, and drove its
talons into the dog's neck like the dog was sausage.
     Bubba jumped up and began to shout at the attacking bird.
Bubba said, the bird just kind of turned its head, looked back at
him, opened its beak and made a guttural noise in what Bubba
thought sounded like something he had heard in a fright movie.
     Bubba told me that he felt threatened. "That was no bird I had
ever seen, and it didn't act like no bird, it acted like a monster
possessed," Bubba said.
     Sissy ran out of the house, yelling and screaming, cursing as
the bird returned its attention to the dog. She had a broom in her
hand. She'd been sweeping the floor when she heard the dog whining.
She had seen the attack and was coming to help. She tried
frantically to brush the bird away from the dog. The bird showed
no fear of her. It turned and stared hard as if trying to stare her
down. It made the guttural noise and Sissy's hands and knees began
to shake. Bubba said that his heart was pounding, but he calmed
himself and took the broom. Using the wooden handle, he struck the
bird to beat it away from the dog. The bird shrieked, and flared
up like an angry fire. It attacked Bubba. Its left talon struck
Bubba's arm and drew blood. Bubba whirled, spinned about, shook
loose from the bird. It fell, dazed on to the ground. Bubba, using
the broom's handle, beat it dead.
     While he was doing this a couple of uptight research fellahs
from the office of the state board of wild game arrived in Bubba's
backyard. These fellahs were tracking the bird. They had fitted a
couple of transmitters to each of the Arkdack's legs and, using
electronic apparatus, arrived a tad too late to save the bird.
     They screamed at Bubba. "Do you know what you've done? You
idiot?" one of them said.
     "Why don't you tell me about it?" Bubba stared at the
strangers. A thick sheen of sweat was on his reddened brow. He was
aroused, and the sweat made him look madder than anybody, I guess,
those research fellahs knew. One of them looked nervous, began to
stutter. The other mumbled something about the bird being a member
of a protected species and that it was against state, federal,
local and county laws to hinder or harm one.
     "Yeah?" said Bubba. "What are you doing on my property?"
     The strangers said that they wanted the bird. Bubba told them
they could have the dead bird. Those fellahs took what was left of
the bird, a bloody pulp and feathers, and they left. A week later,
5:30 P.M on a monday, a paper came, delivered by the Sheriff's
office. Bubba wasn't home, so Sissy accepted it for him. On the
paper was written, "Tuesday at 9 A.M. (which was the following day)
- Failure to appear might subject you to arrest." Sissy read the
paper three dozen times. She couldn't believe that Bubba had been
summoned to report to the state government building in the county
seat to discuss a violation of the law on the preservation of
endangered species. When Bubba came home, she and him stayed up
all-night angrily discussing the summons.
     The next morning, Sissy accompanied Bubba to the government
building. They were ushered into a room where six armed government
men in black suits, who wore pointed-toed shoes, awaited them, and
where Bubba was promptly arrested.
     "Under arrest? Why?" Bubba said he inquired calmly. He
suppressed his temper.
     The head government man in the room stared, stiff-necked and
stoney eyed. "You killed an Arkdack," he said. "There are only
fifteen Arkdacks left."
     "I'm sorry," Bubba said. "Your Arkdack attacked my dog, and
attacked me and frightened my wife." Then, Bubba stopped trying to
reason with the man. He could see from the way the man's muscles
were bunching up along his jaw line that the man was not listening.
Sissy could see this too, and she began to curse. "Doesn't my
husband have a right to protect himself, me, and his home?"
     "We must protect the Arkdacks," the man said.
     Sissy yelled, "Your damn Arkdack injured my husband!"
     "Irrelevant to the charges," said the man.
     "This is irrelevant!" Bubba shouted, showing the arm, and the
scab over the wound where the Arkdack's talon had struck.
     The government man said dryly, "You will live, that's more
than you allowed the Arkdack."
     "Listen, please?" Sissy asked.
     "Don't plead with him," Bubba told her, "These people are
crazy."
     "I've heard enough," Bubba said the government man said
with a tone of finality. "You are going to be booked and charged
with a violation of law."
     Sissy shouted, "Your bird violated--"
     "Nonsense," the government man said, cutting Sissy off. "That
bird was a beautiful and proud Arkdack, a hunter, and what it did
was natural. It hunted."
     "Our dog!" Sissy shouted. "And if your Arkdack had killed our
dog, you would say, sorry, that's nature's business? Right?"
     The government man nodded, and added, "If the dog had killed
the Arkdack under the circumstances, no criminal charges would have
been filed, but your husband killed the Arkdack and that is a
criminal offense."
     At this point Bubba exploded. He said, it took all six of the
government men to subdue him and put the cuffs on him. Boy, he
said, he was madder than he had ever been. Gawd, was he mad. He
told me that to those government men, a dog had more rights to
defend itself than does a man. They put the rights of a man below
that of a dog.
     Well, I don't think that is quite the point of this story. I
think the point is that if in early April you ever find yourself
summoned to a room full of government men wearing pointed-toe shoes
you can be sure that you're in for many bad days and a late Spring.
                               END