Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

94 - THE PEACE PIPE

Deputy Whitey squatted down next to the dead body of Christos Kartone.  He smiled as he pulled a toothpick from his mouth and squinted back up at us, “From the looks of things, it appears to me you all had yourselves quite a cookout.”

“It was an accident,” I said.

“It was self-defense,” Maggie said.

“It was justice,” Whitey concluded.  Looking down at dead Christos, “He needed killing.”

Then Deputy Sheriff Whitey turned to Ms. Luckyfeather, “Got some bad news for you, Lucky.  That RobbinsYUZ company that owned this place, well they got themselves some fancy lawyers to get an injunction against the Bureau of Indian Stuff from givin’ this here property to you guys.  Then that RobbinsYUZ company sold the land out from under you.  Seems like the Kachingas and everybody else has gotta get out of Broken Heart Park.”

Sashimi didn’t miss a beat.  “That’s okay, Whitey.  We did all right.  We managed to salvage some of my people’s pottery before the rest was blown to bits.  Luckily, we seized most of the really good stuff from that Purty character, and I’d say we’ve got close to twelve sets of vintage Fiesta Ware.”

Whitey tipped his hat back.  “Gonna take it back to your reservation?”

“No,” Sashimi laughed.  “The Confederated Kachinga Band of the North Bank of the Tule River has no need for this junk.”  Ms. Luckyfeather leaned closer to the Deputy Sheriff as she confided, “Since ‘Antiques Sideshow’ is taping up in Sacramento this weekend, we’re going to see what we can get for all these priceless collectibles.  At the reservation we need to construct a new birthing center for unwed mothers next to the Cash Teepee Disco and Lost Wages Casino.”  She smiled and gave Maggie’s butt a little squeeze.

“Well that sounds mighty fine to me,” Whitey grinned.  “You know what I think?  I think this calls for a little celebration.”  Whitey flashed his pearly whites.  “Yeah, and I know just how to celebrate,” he grinned.

Whitey strolled back to his squad car and dug something out of the glove compartment.  Shortly after, he returned and he chuckled as he shook a small plastic bag over his head.  (It looked like some of the impounded crop from my hemp-farming business with Chet and Hippie Mary.)  “I don’t think ol’ Big Bud will have no use for organic fibers where he is.  Who’s got papers or a pipe?”

All the Kachinga boys patted and slapped at their buffalo pants and deerskin vest pockets.

“I got nothin’.”

“Me neither, bro’.”

“Nada.”

It was obvious the Park Manager would have to rise to the occasion.  I sprinted over to the wreckage of #1 Broken Heart Park and shoved aside the fallen left wall and climbed up next to where my EZ-Lounger was.  There in the ashtray sat my trusty chicken claw pipe, the one with the middle claw-nail set straight up.  I grabbed the pipe and ran on back over to Whitey.  “Will this do, Deputy?” I offered cheerfully.  Deputy Sheriff Whitey apprehended the paraphernalia right outta my hand, and after he snatched the evidence he started filling the bowl.

“Think so.”  It wasn’t but two-shakes before he had that pipe fired up.

The symbolic pipe of peace hadn’t even made one round when out of the shadows stepped our protector from The Brothers of the Mysterious Nights.

“MmmMmmmMmmmm.  I knew I sniffed Momma’s cooking.  Mind if I do?” he extended his hand.  I passed him the bowl of Nature’s Howdy.

Maggie asked, "Where’s the little boy?  Has anyone seen him?”

“Yeah, anyone seen the bugger?” I wondered.

The Silver Ghost started to say something but he’d taken such a big hit on the celebratory smoke that he began to cough and hack up phlegm.

Breaking-Wind yelled, “Hey man, don’t duck-ass that pipe.”

“Duck-ass?”  Maggie’s head tilted.  “Is that another Kachinga brave?”

“Nahhh,” Rolling-Bones started to answer.  “That’s when you Nigg—”

I jumped up and cupped my hands over Joe Plato’s ears, “Not in front of the duck.”

Soon a dreamy spell fell over the whole gathering, casting a quiet, peaceful contentedness.  After an indefinite amount of contented time had passed, Krazy-Eights sighed, “I wish that old lady with the cakes and sweet rolls was here right now.”

As much as I appreciated Miss Dorothy’s trays of snacks, I think I would’a preferred a plate of lasagna followed by one of Hippie Mary’s brownies and ice cream for dessert.

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