Topicus Still Not Flanked
The straggling crew who apparently couldn’t track an elephant in the mud were still wandering about the southern reaches of the Okie land. They had to abandoned the search for their quarry for a time because now one of their own number was missing! The Slinger, along with his cache of slings, spears, slings and arrows and bags of various caliber of rocks and pebbles, was missing! And had been for several days.
John The Penn said, “I thinketh something got him in the night!”
Bigus Tomicus (who had finally caught up with them after healing from the donkey kick to the ribs) responded, “ His compass has always been a few clicks off true north, so he is probably 180 and degrees from his intended path!”
Robicus, of the few words, saith “Thy all make me wish I were back with the wolves and The Ancient Chicago tribes.”
Stevicus (The Tracker) Sneered (Leered?), “Stevroloneous knows the Scent of a Women better than most. I dare say that his line of search doth not go in circles. I say that he can be found even now in a straight line somewhere in the vicinity of the most famous woman warrior of these dark times! Remember, there be a whole passel of BA...eh....women with her. He hath snookered us into a false search for his old hide so that he could try once again to consort with that woman!”
It seems that The Slinger had indeed crept out of their bivouac in the darkest of night. He had actually been gone two days and they had just now noticed, with their mathematical skills and all. He was in visual contact with the little band. His observations were well planned but the execution of the plan was hindered by lust which caused a major brain malfunction. He was swinging from tree to tree. Approaching from the air, although not trained in that area, he let his urges overcome caution and was swinging through their camp in an effort to flank Topicus and her core group(No not Corps, yet)! Remember he was loaded down with his weapons and ammo. He needed one more last leap from high overhead to have her flanked! A little bit longer than the last swing. Turning loose of the vine with one hand he grasped air with the other. Down he came man, assorted weapons, rocks and all! Full bore!
Topicus was deep in thought...again. It seems that pondering was her main duty now. The problems were seeming to mount. Problems with the disorganized people beginning to surround her that seemed to be greater than her abilities. The Okie and Texican tribes were still jabbering at each other, posturing, flexing and shaking their spears at each other. The stragglers from all points were still bearing down on her. Suddenly a loud thud, a big brown clad lump of something hit the deck next to her, followed by the clatter of many spears, arrows and rocks that covered the lump. Choking dust! A scream then groans of pain. She stared with wide eyes as a figure sat up out of all the rubble and dust. White teeth showing a wide grin through the dust. It spoke, “Hidy Topkins! I come to council with thee. I will show thee how to use thy war club more efficiently. I can teach thy War Bunnies! I will show thee how to parry and thrust. I won’t to do the thrust first!”
Topicus and her “War Bunnies” were livid. Topicus spake in a loud voice, “Topkins?!” War Bunnies?! Thy fool! I busted thy old creaky knees back on thy mountain. I saved thy head on your shoulders! But since thy seems to have little use for it you are fixin’ to have it cracked. Bufficus tossed the Louisville Slugger to Topicus (just like Chester to Matt). Like a giant rotor cranking up, the Louisville Slugger begin whirling over her head. And The Slinger was sore afraid! He didn’t look too fast of foot but he was away and into the briars and brambles like a shot. Headed back to the pack with a much lighter load.
Topicus had continued to reconnoiter this other ragtag bunch. These forerunners of ‘Texicans’. Her small band had observed the devilish goings on of the scruffy group of warriors that Billicus had assembled for the rattler roundup. They were still telling the ribald “wimmin” jokes, chewing Brown Mule and spitting and drinking some sort of fermented cactus juice. That made them crazier. The plan was for a three pronged attack. Caticus from the West, Bufficus from the East and Topicus head on with the Louisville Slugger singing it’s song.
The distaff warriors came flying in, scattering the camp fire and the occupiers in every direction. Caticus with her long bow and chattering so fast and hard that those in her sector held their ears and begged to be given cotton to plug them. Tiny Bufficus was blazing away with the two small but razor like swords. The pleading in her sector was made even been more supplicating because, just think, her head being only waist high to her enemy combatants, her rapiers were making mincemeat of the big warrior’s anatomy somewhere between the belt buckle and the knees! With wranglers running to and fro, hot coals sticking to assorted places as they ran through fire to find and open space. Then an aide to Billicus, and helper to another warrior group of lesser aptitude and bravery, whose name was Kurticus strode forward. He climbed upon a tree stump to see if he could talk his way out of this one! With carnage all about him Kurticus looked upon the wild eyed women about him and sought to address the leader Topicus. He began a long dissertation about evil, about love and brotherhood and how we should all just get along! And how he could revert back to one bad SOB if need be. But that did not slow down the attack. He say the flame haired, red eyed Topicus cast her gaze upon him! Lock jaw seized Kurticus as he saw her advance toward him as if in slow motion. She had the Louisville Slugger in both hands, drawn back over her head. Much the same way that one would go about killing a snake....and she looked as though that was what she was about to do. Kurticus's instincts were for flight as opposed to fight, maybe live to fight another day, he reasoned. Well, the boy was big but was not quite fast enough. One leg in mid air from the stump, ready to propel himself a few yards with the first step, he thought, “ I am going to get the fu........” and a million fireflies flew around in his brain at warp speed. She got him with the sweet spot! Put the imprint of the trademark right across the thinning hair at the crown of his head. He was sent flying through the other wranglers as a bowling ball would taking out all 9 pins.
Billicus was known to be quick to analyze a situation and seeing Kurticus somersault through the fire made him think, “ I wish to fight another day, discretion is the better part of valor, I will be attacking in another direction and all that stuff, but mainly I am getting my ass out of here!
So it came to pass that the warriors of the Texicans were scattered and the Okies were glad of it, and returned to their homes in the dust bowl. (They were all still smoldering with rage, however, and I doubt that we have heard the last of that whole mess down there.) But for now another war was averted. As far as the ‘wild bunch, up around the mile high village in the Shining Mountains, they were content to just have another monthly ‘annual’ party and consume copious quantities of liquid grain.
Topicus looked up and cried out to the Heavens, “Will I never get out of this Mac O’ Mighty forsaken land!!??”
In the Land far away by the aforementioned Great Dirty Waters, a greying Old Warrior suddenly had his sleep disturbed. Someone had cried out. But who? Where? Shaking the 29 days of sleep from his groggy old head he said to himself, “It’s that damned woman warrior, way to the South West again, stirring up the old troops!" Sighing with resignation at the difficulties of divine life he took up his gear of dingy white robes, a pair of socks and jawbone of an ass. “Damn,” he said under his breath as he packed the rations supplied by His Higher Command, “Manna again!!” With even deeper sighs He climbed aboard the dingy grey cloud.
Topicus fell the troops in and were at route step headed to and across the big muddy waters. They were going to the land of cotton. There were many warriors around a little village on the Chatthoochee River. (Some who boasted of magnificent feats...or was it huge feets?) It was also said that an ancient warrior resided in that area and she was going there to seek his counsel. He was of the ancient Big War and knew many things.
After Topicus informed her troops that they were going to the land of cotton, Caticus began humming a little tune that she made up as they went along. It had a peculiar but rousing sound. Bufficus began putting words to the tune. Who knew, maybe when they got to the land of cotton they might even be able to sell the song. “All right you people, knock off the grab-ass and close it up back there!” ( I have really been wanting to say that line, but just couldn’t bring myself to finish with ‘tighten it up’.)
Next: “The first burning....way before Sherman.”