Part 6:  Little Fish, Little Pond

My day with the Mayor started with a stroll “downtown”. He showed me the railroad tracks, ball field, the church parking lot where he refreshed his mint julep, and where he relieved himself of the previous mint julep, and although I did not go back there with him, he may have also expunged last night’s chicken. It did take a while, either that or he needs Flomax.

He then began extolling the virtues of small town life. “It’s like Cheers, y’know?” Nutt said. “I walk ‘round this here town, I see all 12 of the people who voted me in office, and do what I can do to make this town better. You think Obama knows all the people that voted for him? Better yet, you think he’s man enough to be packing his own heat? He’s got the damn Secret Service, I’ve got ole Bessie here on my hip. Speakin’ of, me ‘n the boys got a little afternoon exercise, you oughta come join us.”

About that time, his driver Reginald drove up behind us and scurried us off to the range. As we pulled up the drive the two town cops, along with their service vehicles with the faded outline of the former town they used to patrol still visible in the paint, were awaiting the Mayor’s arrival.

“What’s goin’ on boys?” the Mayor bellowed in their direction, “This here is Investigative Reporter, he’s gone be shootin’ with us today!”

I looked at Johnny Law, figuring he’d remember me from his traffic stop, but I guess he didn’t. Seemed possible I guess, if you write 50 tickets a day every day everyone starts to look alike.

The Mayor went into the cabin nearby, and returned with an AR-15 in each arm, crossing them as if he was Tony Montana himself. He had rigged dual mint juleps onto his head with the always classy beer can helmet, for hands free sippin’. “Light ‘em up boys!”

Before we could blink, he opened fire on a downfield target with both guns blazing, with round after round spraying wildly. “Damn them targets are moving like crazy, when did y’all put three of ‘em up?”

Johnny Law responded with, “It’s still just the one, Mayor Nutt, you’re just seeing three.”

The exercise continued until the Mayor made a wager. “Alright boys, time to put up or shut up, break out your pistols, closest to the bullseye wins the pot, every one throw in $20.”

The three men lined up and fired one at a time, Law hit the target, but wasn’t in the bullseye. Officer Tinsticker was next to go, and may as well have declined the competition as he missed the target completely. This left the Mayor with the final shot. He took a sip from the mint juleps, which had now hit bottom, and took aim. As he was about to fire, Law spit Skoal in his general direction. The shot hit the third target that wasn’t there.

“You summumabitch!” shouted Mayor Nutt. “You spit while I was cocking the hammer, you cheating motha!”

“Whatever, I beat you fair and square,” Law replied, “that money is mine, you can’t even see straight for all them drinks you’ve had today.”

“You’ve worked your last day on this beat son, you’re fired,” the Mayor continued. “I can’t take stuff to court ‘cause of you, you’re a cheating bastard, you lied on your time sheets, not to mention you went and danced in front of my Momma one night, she seemed to enjoy it and it perked her spirits up a little bit, but I can’t let that slide, but worst of all you ate my chicken. You done, pack your shit. Tinsticker, you got patrol tonight.”

“You can’t fire me, I’m Johnny Law, Jr., I run this town. I’m going go to the town council on your ass, you ain’t got the right!”

Word spread quickly that an emergency town meeting would be held with regards to the firing of Johnny Law, Jr. Outside the town hall, the same three men I’d encountered at Drake’s what seemed so long ago, were again entered in a spirited conversation.

“’Bout time they canned that good for nothin’ Law, I can’t wait to burn ‘em down again on 671,” said one.

“They still got ole Tinsticker,” said another, “he’s near ‘bout just as bad. Speakin’ of bad, Jerry what y’all gone do with ole RG3? Why’d y’all even bring him back for if you just gone stick him on the bench? Good Lord he couldn’t do nuthin’ the other night”

“Hell if I know,” said Jerry apparently, “Snyder’s got his head up his ass for sure, it ain’t my money, but you never saw this type of shit when Joe Gibbs was in charge.”

“Damn Jerry, that was 30 damn years ago, let it go man, he’s employing that beady eyed rat that drives the M&M’s car now,” said the third. “You reckon that’s really his baby with that girl that’s always with him ‘fore the race? Money make you do some crazy things I guess.”

About that time, the door swung open to the town hall, and all six people there to see the show entered. I grabbed a seat near the front as Vice Mayor Olden D. Creput called the meeting to order.

“Alright y’all, we gone start,” the Vice Mayor bellowed to call the meeting to order. The town council, along with the Mayor and Vice Mayor sat in a row facing the crowd, of which they outnumbered. The Mayor with an entire pitcher of Mint Julep placed before him, looked on with a satisfied grin on his face after canning Johnny Law, Jr.

The first 15 minutes served as the standard small town fare. One woman was complaining that someone’s kid was making too much noise and interrupting her Murder She Wrote reruns, another resident was upset that Drake’s wasn’t open 24 hours, and wanted to know where they expected her to get a hot dog at 3 AM.

About that time, Johnny Law, Jr, busted in with the law team from L’Chaim L’Chaim and Mozel Tov flanking each side. They demanded Law’s reinstatement, on the grounds that Mayor Nutt had no such authority, and presented a printout of the Microsoft Word document complete with the town’s bylaws.

“It says right here,” said Attorney Abraham L’Chaim, “’The Mayor Can’t Not Fire Nobody.’ I do believe that’s a triple negative if I’m not mistaken, well done Town of Newsoms. In layman’s terms Mr. Mayor, this here paper means Mr. Law is still employed, according to this fine document. The makers of Legal Zoom must be very happy with the $49 they charged you to record this on the books.”

The Vice Mayor then reached for the printout, holding it at arm’s length from his face, then to his nose, then back and forth, until finally muttering and patting his shirt pocket, “Where did I put my God damn glasses?!” After finally securing them, he responded with “Well I’ll be a sumbitch. I guess you ain’t got the authority there Mayor Nutt, we gonna have to give Mr. Law back his job. Says here on the next line, ‘The board gets to fire people if they want to.”’

The mayor glared at the board, but reserved his Cyclopsesque laser beams for the Vice Mayor. Hands shaking, he clutched the pitcher of Mint Julep, as it shook in his hands, splattering his impeccable suit. “This how it’s gone be, huh?” he finally said cutting the tension. “Y’all gone take the word of a chicken thief, over the word of a man that runs all this”, (The mayor then makes a drunken circular motion with his hands to demonstrate ‘all this.’) “Good. You can have your little town, and your rent-a-cops, and your Chicken Restaurant-less town. I’m taking this sweet ass, this here pitcher of Mint Juleps, Reginald, and my AR-15 with me, and leaving this damn town. I’m out, I quit. I’m going to a real town. B-Town. Boykins. Home of the Great Flood, Red Barns, and Carl Thomas. Peace bitches!”

“Reginald stays with us,” the Vice Mayor quickly piped in, “He’s on town payroll, and you can put the pitcher down too, and we’ll be taking that AR-15, that’s town owned too. I wouldn’t do anything drastic either, not with Mr. Law here on the premises.”

“Drive safe Mayor,” Law barked at Nutt on his way out, “Wouldn’t want to pull you over.”

The meeting was then called to dismiss, and all six people in attendance filed out in shock.