CHAPTER 13
UNLUCKY
It was high noon. One angry buzzard flew overhead. Standing in the middle of the dusty road was Lippy "Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip" Smacks. He had his hands on the butts of his guns which were holstered in his gun holsters, and he was looking for trouble. But he was a patient man. Once, he waited over an hour for ice to melt in his glass before he drank his drink. And while he was waiting, he didn’t move. He just gazed at the ice with his lip dangling down like a dog tongue. That’s the kind of man he was. And he was looking for trouble, as said earlier. That’s right… trouble.
And trouble he got. Sheriff Useless P. Clodstopper came down the street, and he had some guns too, and he looked as angry as a man made to get out of a harness at the height of passion. His black dick was dangling out of his jeans. His face was red and flecked, almost like the skin was peeling off. He had a tail. And his nipples were grossly exaggerated as if there was something clamped to them under his shirt. Despite the horror, Lippy gave him a good hard stare. He knew if a man loses his stare at a time like this, it could mean hard screaming death. Then the sheriff stopped about twenty paces away, and they just stood looking at each other for some time. They were sizing each other up. This was gonna’ be a showdown, and the small crowd that had gathered on either side of the street knew it.
"You the new sheriff?" Lippy asked, finally breaking the silence.
"I expect I am, you big fat walking lip O’ shit." Lippy was taken aback. Nobody had ever brought such direct attention to his monstrosity of a lip; not since he was a child.
"What did you say to me?" He said, defiantly.
"Lip… O’… shit!" repeated the sheriff, carefully pronouncing each word. The townspeople began to giggle to themselves.
"Don’t you know who I am?" Lippy said. "I’m Lippy ‘Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip’ Smacks. Does that name mean anything to you?"
"I don’t know." Said the sheriff. "It’s hard for me to think about a man’s name when I’m looking at his ugly… big… pink… smelly… LIP!" Lippy jumped back in horror. He was getting angry.
"You sonova bitch! Yore makin’ fun of my lip, aren’t you."
"That’s right, you monkey lookin’ skin floppy. That there’s the biggest ugliest most hangin’ downiest piece o’ lip I ever seen on a man."
"Goddamn I’ll kill you right now, sheriff, for making fun of my lip. Don’t you know my name, sheriff? Don’t you know my name? It says, plain as day, don’t make fun of my lip, and here you are makin’ fun of it. Don’t you know my name, sheriff?"
"I can’t understand a word your sayin’ cause of that disgusting mutilated… bloated… flap of a lip!" Lippy began to cry, and lost all his will to murder. He rubbed his eyes and blubbered like a school boy just been slapped with a ruler on his big fat lip. The sheriff walked over to him and put his arm around lippy to comfort him.
"The kids used to make fun of your lip in school, didn’t they, Lippy."
"Yes sir." Lippy said through his cryin’ tears.
"Made fun of you so much, you thought you were worthless, didn’t you." said the sheriff.
"Yes, sir, they did." Lippy said.
"Parents made fun of you too, didn’t they. Called you names at the dinner table and made you cry. Made you feel like you were the lowest little boy in the land, didn’t they?"
"That’s right." Lippy was bawling now, looking down at the ground in shame.
"But Lippy, I got to tell you, there’s a reason for everything. God makes everyone a little different, and maybe he made your big ugly lip for a reason."
"How so?" Lippy asked.
"Well," said the sheriff, "You can fiddle with your lip. Pull on it, play with it, you can yank on it. Not many people can say that, can they?"
"I do yank on it once in awhile."
"That’s right. And you can pull yore lip over yore face and make it like you got no face. Ain’t that right?"
"I never thought about that, but… I could do that if I had a mind to."
"You could have no face. Who can say that, Lippy? Who?"
"Jeepers, nobody I know of."
"That’s right, Lippy. And that makes you special. Not ugly, not stupid, not someone that ain’t no good, but special. Special the way God made you, and God don’t make mistakes." Lippy stopped cryin’. All the shame and humiliation he had endured as a helpless child was now behind him. He was a new man with a new life. The sheriff had given him something he had never had before. Hope.
"You feel better?" asked the sheriff.
"I sure do." Lippy replied, his hanging lip hoisted up in a sort of smile.
"Alright then. Let’s git this showdown over with." Sheriff Useless P. Clodstopper turned, walked twenty paces, turned again, pulled out his gun, and shot Lippy six times in the lip. Lippy dropped down into a hunkered clump like hot shit out a cow, his lip shining in the afternoon sun.
Sinister Grim arrived about an hour later with a special casket made to accommodate the extra amount of lip on Lippy "Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip" Smacks. As he was putting Lippy into the casket, a shot rang out. A sniper had put a bullet through Sinister Grim’s heart, for no good reason. Sinister Grim closed the casket, picked it up, put it into the back of the carriage, got on his horse, and headed for the cemetery.
UNLUCKY
It was high noon. One angry buzzard flew overhead. Standing in the middle of the dusty road was Lippy "Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip" Smacks. He had his hands on the butts of his guns which were holstered in his gun holsters, and he was looking for trouble. But he was a patient man. Once, he waited over an hour for ice to melt in his glass before he drank his drink. And while he was waiting, he didn’t move. He just gazed at the ice with his lip dangling down like a dog tongue. That’s the kind of man he was. And he was looking for trouble, as said earlier. That’s right… trouble.
And trouble he got. Sheriff Useless P. Clodstopper came down the street, and he had some guns too, and he looked as angry as a man made to get out of a harness at the height of passion. His black dick was dangling out of his jeans. His face was red and flecked, almost like the skin was peeling off. He had a tail. And his nipples were grossly exaggerated as if there was something clamped to them under his shirt. Despite the horror, Lippy gave him a good hard stare. He knew if a man loses his stare at a time like this, it could mean hard screaming death. Then the sheriff stopped about twenty paces away, and they just stood looking at each other for some time. They were sizing each other up. This was gonna’ be a showdown, and the small crowd that had gathered on either side of the street knew it.
"You the new sheriff?" Lippy asked, finally breaking the silence.
"I expect I am, you big fat walking lip O’ shit." Lippy was taken aback. Nobody had ever brought such direct attention to his monstrosity of a lip; not since he was a child.
"What did you say to me?" He said, defiantly.
"Lip… O’… shit!" repeated the sheriff, carefully pronouncing each word. The townspeople began to giggle to themselves.
"Don’t you know who I am?" Lippy said. "I’m Lippy ‘Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip’ Smacks. Does that name mean anything to you?"
"I don’t know." Said the sheriff. "It’s hard for me to think about a man’s name when I’m looking at his ugly… big… pink… smelly… LIP!" Lippy jumped back in horror. He was getting angry.
"You sonova bitch! Yore makin’ fun of my lip, aren’t you."
"That’s right, you monkey lookin’ skin floppy. That there’s the biggest ugliest most hangin’ downiest piece o’ lip I ever seen on a man."
"Goddamn I’ll kill you right now, sheriff, for making fun of my lip. Don’t you know my name, sheriff? Don’t you know my name? It says, plain as day, don’t make fun of my lip, and here you are makin’ fun of it. Don’t you know my name, sheriff?"
"I can’t understand a word your sayin’ cause of that disgusting mutilated… bloated… flap of a lip!" Lippy began to cry, and lost all his will to murder. He rubbed his eyes and blubbered like a school boy just been slapped with a ruler on his big fat lip. The sheriff walked over to him and put his arm around lippy to comfort him.
"The kids used to make fun of your lip in school, didn’t they, Lippy."
"Yes sir." Lippy said through his cryin’ tears.
"Made fun of you so much, you thought you were worthless, didn’t you." said the sheriff.
"Yes, sir, they did." Lippy said.
"Parents made fun of you too, didn’t they. Called you names at the dinner table and made you cry. Made you feel like you were the lowest little boy in the land, didn’t they?"
"That’s right." Lippy was bawling now, looking down at the ground in shame.
"But Lippy, I got to tell you, there’s a reason for everything. God makes everyone a little different, and maybe he made your big ugly lip for a reason."
"How so?" Lippy asked.
"Well," said the sheriff, "You can fiddle with your lip. Pull on it, play with it, you can yank on it. Not many people can say that, can they?"
"I do yank on it once in awhile."
"That’s right. And you can pull yore lip over yore face and make it like you got no face. Ain’t that right?"
"I never thought about that, but… I could do that if I had a mind to."
"You could have no face. Who can say that, Lippy? Who?"
"Jeepers, nobody I know of."
"That’s right, Lippy. And that makes you special. Not ugly, not stupid, not someone that ain’t no good, but special. Special the way God made you, and God don’t make mistakes." Lippy stopped cryin’. All the shame and humiliation he had endured as a helpless child was now behind him. He was a new man with a new life. The sheriff had given him something he had never had before. Hope.
"You feel better?" asked the sheriff.
"I sure do." Lippy replied, his hanging lip hoisted up in a sort of smile.
"Alright then. Let’s git this showdown over with." Sheriff Useless P. Clodstopper turned, walked twenty paces, turned again, pulled out his gun, and shot Lippy six times in the lip. Lippy dropped down into a hunkered clump like hot shit out a cow, his lip shining in the afternoon sun.
Sinister Grim arrived about an hour later with a special casket made to accommodate the extra amount of lip on Lippy "Don’t You Ever Make Fun Of My Lip" Smacks. As he was putting Lippy into the casket, a shot rang out. A sniper had put a bullet through Sinister Grim’s heart, for no good reason. Sinister Grim closed the casket, picked it up, put it into the back of the carriage, got on his horse, and headed for the cemetery.