Withering Flats, part 2, conclusion

Yes, Folks, it’s time again for Withering Flats, the small town in the Heartland of Decency and Family Values. Tonight we conclude the episode we started last night, when our hero and red- blooded boy, Clem, went all over town looking for his steady girl and heartthrob, sweet Janee Trubloo, who was last seen in the company of the villainous bad boy of town, nasty Nick Nak. Clem had just come from Mr. Woodinpate’s saw mill and had decided to go see Sheriff Blyndors. Let’s pick up the action from there...

Walking back into town, Clem was at a loss as to where to try next. He thought, that since Mr. Woodinpate had mentioned him, to try Sheriff Blyndors and ask if he had seen Janee or Nick. He was beginning to get worried that his searching would get him to the subjects of his concern too late!
He started running so that by the time he came up Main Street and stopped in front of the Sheriff’s Office, he was out of breath. The Sheriff was sitting out in front, in the shade under the awning, seated with his chair tipped back whittling on a stick. When Clem ran up out of breath he dropped the stick, jumped out of his chair and demanded, “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Is there trouble? Is there a fire? Has there been an accident? Are those danged hippies coming around again?”

Clem caught his breath and said, “No sir, I’m just looking for Janee Trubloo and Nick Nak, and it’s really important!”

“Eh? What’s that you say?” Sheriff Blyndors blustered, “The hippies aren’t back in town? Well they better not be or I’ll knock 'em around and lock 'em up again. Can’t have people who disagree with our way of life running around loose! You never know what kind of crazy ideas they will put in people’s heads!”

With that he pushed his big Western hat back a bit, bent over, picked up his stick and sat back down. He pointed his Bowie Knife at Clem and warned, “Don’t you go getting me all riled up, boy, you know I’ve got to keep the peace here,” and went back to his careful strokes against the wood.

“I’m sorry Sheriff Blyndors, but I really need to find Janee and Nick,” stammered Clem.

“Now Clem, you’re basically a good boy and have never given me much trouble. Although,” he mused, “you did go off to that Yooneeversity in the big city and you know I don’t cotton to the crazy ideas they put into young folk’s heads. All that eddy-kashun ain’t good for a body. People get too much of that kind of thing and they start wanting to change things and it just ain’t natural.”

“I know, Sheriff,” agreed Clem, having heard this same things many times over the years, “but have you seen Janee and Nick?”

“Say, Clem, why can’t you be more like that nice Nick Nak and do as you’re told?” Sheriff Blyndors asked. “Nick was by here a while ago and he gave me a friendly wave. Quite a nice boy. He knows his place and is someone to make a parent proud.”

“You saw Nick?” Clem exclaimed incredulously, “did you see Janee?”

‘Oh yeah, he had her by the hair dragging her down the street. He said he was taking her over to the old saw mill where Limmbug’s Alligator Farm is now. Yessir, that is a boy that knows how to treat a woman,” as he continued whittling.

Then, “You get along, boy, and stop causing trouble before I lock you up,” and with that he tilted his chair back, tilted his hat down and was quiet.

“Thanks, Sheriff!” Clem said, as he started off at a run.

“Slow down, boy!” barked the sheriff.

“Yes sir,” Clem responded obediently, easing to an anxious amble until he was around the corner, then set off running again, heading for the edge of town.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Clem worried to himself as he huffed and puffed up to the large, dilapidated shed that was the former saw mill and was now the office of the Limmbug Alligator Farm and Petting Zoo. There was a large sign outside the door stating that the feeding time shows were Tuesday and Saturday afternoon at 4pm and that there would be no between meal feedings (“So we keep ‘em hungry for you!”), and that trespassers would be prosecuted.

Ignoring the sign (he’s read it many of times when he came to watch the feedings) and bursting through the door he saw Nasty Nick standing by a long lever, similar to the one Mr. Woodinpate operated in the new saw mill, and sweet young Janee Trubloo (only a few years older than Clem) tied up and lying on the conveyor belt that remained from the old milling operation, although the saw itself was long gone. The far end of the belt stopped over the opening where the saw used to be that was now used to throw dead chickens and other delicacies down to the alligators in the pit below. It appeared that Janee had chewed through the gag, and she was peacefully snoring as Clem shouted, "Stop!”

Nick turned to face him, surprised anger gathering on his features while Janee snorted, grunted and woke with a start.

“Curses!” cried Nick.

“Huh?” blinked Janee.

“Stop!” repeated Clem.

“You’re too late, Clump chump! I’ve finally got her where I want her!” Nick scowled, his black suit and boots, as usual, were impeccably trim and neat, a black string tie dangling sharply against the stiffly starched white of his shirt. (“I wear the white shirt for my mother ‘cause I’m not ALL bad,” he explains to those who ask.)

“NO! Stop I say!” urged Clem, frantically.

Nick reached out, put his hands on the lever and sneered, “Tell me why, just for fun!” His beady eyes reflecting the black of his dark soul, his well waxed handlebar moustache equally black and shiny.

“Oh Nicky, you’re such a tool,” complained Janee. “Go ahead Clem, honey, tell him why,” and she looked at Clem with that sweet grin of hers that always touches him in a way he can’t control, making him blush and stammer.

“Uh... uh... uh... “ stammered Clem, blushing on cue, completely bedazzled by her radiant, gap-toothed smile.

“I thought so,”Nick snorted, and leaned into the lever, starting the belt and Janee toward the dark, open hole at the far end of the shack.

“Uh,” gave Clem one more time, “No... it’s umm, oh yeah!” he suddenly recalled his purpose as Janee and Nick watched him expectantly.

He dug into his pocket and fumbled with something as Nick raised his oily black eye-brows, reached beneath his black coat, whipped out a pistol, aimed it at Clem and took up a defensive posture.

“Here!” cried Clem, triumphantly, pulling his hand out of his pocket and brandishing a small piece of paper.

Nick looked relieved, Janee looked bored and Clem looked quite pleased with himself, continuing, “I finally remembered the punch line to that joke!”

“What!?” Nick and Janee exclaimed in unisoon. They froze for a second, looked at each other, looked back at Clem and then blurted out a harmonious, “Well what is it?”

“No one has told you yet, have they? I’m still in time aren’t I?” Clem asked them, a bit hesitantly.

“No, no one told us,” they harmonized, “Now tell us!”

“Whew,” huffed Clem, releasing his pent up breath, “I thought I’d be too late and you would have heard it from somebody else!” He looked greatly relieved, “Even though it’s only been a week,” and smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell us!”

Clem held up his piece of paper and triumphantly read, “No, it’s the OTHER way!”

There was a moment of silence as Clem looked rather smug, then Janee burst into hysterical laughter and Nick, looking rather puzzled, said, “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it, Nick?” exclaimed Clem, with a surprised look on his face.

“No, Clem, I’m sorry, I just don’t get it,” returned Nick as he replaced his revolver and walked over to where Clem was standing.

“Well, Nick, let me explain it,” began Clem as Sweet Janee Trubloo reached the end of the conveyor, tipped and plunged into the pit, still laughing hysterically.

And, as Clem talked with avidly grand gestures and Nick listened intently, neither one paying any heed to the loud splashing and thrashing noises coming from the shed, they wander away down the path back to town.

Well, folks, that’s all we have for this episode of Withering Flats, and we’ve been left in a real doozy of a spot. Will Clem be able to explain the joke to Nick? Will they be prosecuted for trespassing? Will they be prosecuted for feeding the alligators outside of the schedule? Will Janee be alright? Will she be prosecuted for trespassing or feeding the 'gators? Will the alligators be all right?

The answers to these and whatever questions you might think of will have to wait until the next exciting episode of Withering Flats, so until then this is your narrator saying so long for now!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 4-20-09