Fargo Joe

FARGO JOE By Simon Alff &; Mark Pearson 2001

ONE

"This is Chuck King playing nothing but the best Country music all
day,
every day on the only station you should be listening to. Broadcasting
to the Wild West on 96.5, this is Arrowhead Creek FM.

Today is June 15th and here we go at six minutes past the hour with
Gooseliver Johnson and his number one hit - 'Tickle my feet' . .
.

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important newsflash, a
robbery is in progress at Arrowhead Creek District Bank. Our reporter
on the scene is Tom McCrackle."

"This is Tom McCrackle coming to you live from the Arrowhead Creek
District Bank where just a few moments ago, three massive, big bottomed
Mexican Bandits, with stomachs the size of Northern France forced their
way into the bank. Member of the gang are heavily armed with items of
household
furniture. I have with me Mrs Ditch, warty-faced chairman of the
Arrowhead Creek division of the Nosy Crone's Curtain Twitchers
Society."

"Woman!" cried Mrs Ditch in despair.

"Where?"

"You said 'Chairman'. I'm a woman!"

". . . Well it doesn't show. Mrs Ditch, the bank is about to be a
robbed. Does this happen often?"

"Yes . . . But never on a Bank holiday, strangely enough."

The ringleader of the hideously overweight gang known as Reckless Rick
Golightly, a man who has turned sweating into an artform, wielded his
pump action coffee table and addressed the bank's terrified
staff.

"Thees ees a . . ." Rick stopped, in mid sentence, scratched his head
and turned to his massive brothers.

"What ees thees?" he whispered.

His brothers blinked and dropped into deep thought. Hurriedly, they
flicked through the pages of 'How to rob a bank' and looked for the
first chapter 'What to say whilst you're doing it'. There were a few
moments of 'during' and 'daring' until Dangerous Doug Golightly, the
slimiest of the three read out the answer.

"Thees ees a steek up!"

Rick turned to the trembling Cashier.

"Thees ees a steek up. Geev me all your money."

The customers screamed with fright as Doug Golightly waved his weapon
in the air.

"Thees chest of drawers ees loaded and I ain't afraid to use eet." He
said menacingly.

"This is Tom McCrackle and still with me is Mrs Ditch. Mrs Ditch,
legend has it that everyone in the Wild West is athletic, brave and
manly. Is this true?".

"Yes. All except for Big Jesse McWhimp from Nantucket. He wets himself
whenever anyone says 'Good Morning' to him."

Mrs Ditch pointed across to the Cashier.

"That's young Jesse, standing in the puddle over there."

Behind the counter, six foot ten inch Big Jesse McWhimp trembled like a
pneumatic drill. Rick tossed him a sack marked 'Property of the Skank
Hotel, Malaga' and Jesse stuffed handfuls of cash into it.

"Make sure you put some coins een." ordered Rick. "so we can buy a bag
of chips on the way home."

Golightly brother number three, Slightly Careless Russell, the most
stupid member of the gang was armed with a bedside lamp complete with
frilly shade, he called out to his elder brother.

"Rick ... Rick ... "

Rick spun around, exasperated.

"What do you want, can't you see I'm busy?"

"'Tis I - Slightly Careless Russell! Charming, deadly, heroic, cuddly
and devastingly handsome."

Poor Russell , it was his dying wish to become an actor and if you'd
seen him act, you'd wish he'd died too.

"Can you ask the man behind the counter if he's got any spare
lard?"
Rick tried hard to remain calm.

"Thees ees a bank. They don't sell lard, you pathetic lump of whale
blubber een a hat!"

Russell creased his eyebrows.

"Erm, was that a 'yes' or 'no'?"
Rick turned back to Big Jesse, who at once handed over a huge box with
the words 'Emergency lard' written on it.

"Oh." muttered Rick rather sheepishly, "Thank you."

"This is Tom McCrackle and I have with me two members of this dastardly
gang - Dangerous Doug and Slightly Careless Russell Golightly. So boys,
why do you rob banks?"

"Erm ... Because the wages are good. And you get to be your own boss."
smiled Doug.

Russell grabbed Tom McCrackle's microphone and shouted into it.

"'Tis I - Slightly Careless Russell. Witty, intelligent, dainty,
gorgeous male model available for panto."

He then skipped around the bank making strange explosion noises.
Reckless Rick glared at McCrackle.

"Weel you put a sock een eet? We's got four other banks to rob
before lunch, you know!"

In no time at all, Big Jessie McWhimp from Nantucket had filled the
sack and handed it to Rick, who then turned to his huge bellied
brothers and said.

"OK boys let's vamoose!"

Loaded down with money, lard and about a hundred and fifty stones of
combined body weight, the fat crooks waddled to the door. But before
leaving, they stopped and grinned at the customers.

"Remember we are The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang." said Doug. "Tell
everyone we were here!"

And then, they left.

Moments later, Doug returned.

"Er, except the Sheriff. Don' tell the Sheriff."

The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang tottered into the street. Then with
all their might, lifted the entire bank into the air and onto their
shoulders.

"Now thees ees what I call a 'hold-up'!" chuckled Rick.

"This is Tom McCrackle and as I speak, The Enormous Greasy Golightly
Gang are carrying the entire bank to the edge of a very high
cliff."

With one mighty heave, the Golightlys hurled the Arrowhead Creek
District Bank over the edge.

"This is Tom McCrackle for Arrow head Creek News, careering three
hundred feet to the bottom of a deep ravine handing you back to Chuck
King in the studio."

"This is Chuck King. can you believe that I know Arrowhead is becoming
a rough place, those weekly baby wrestling contests don't help none.
The trouble is there is no law and order in this town. What Arrowhead
Creek needs right now is a hero. A real hero to save the town from
destruction, a hero to
fight for what he believes in, a hero to capture the hearts of every
man, woman and child in the country

- A HERO TO SAVE US ALL!!! ... But first, here's Gooseliver Johnson
with the nations new number one... 'Tickle my feet., take it away
Gooseliver."

TWO

As luck would have it, Arrowhead Creek was about to be blessed with a
hero of it's very own. But not the usual kind of hero. This one wears
thick
pebble spectacles, has bandy legs that wobble when he's nervous and an
embarrassing sneezing problem. To be honest, he has very little going
for him.

His name is Joe, and he's known by many in town as 'The man with no
surname.'

Joe work's in the local saloon where from dawn to dusk he sweeps the
floor. You may laugh, but it's a job that requires great skill and
intelligence. In fact, when the job was advertised, there were so many
applicants, the saloon's owner, Reg Murphy dreamt up a quiz to wheedle
out the most suitable candidate. And with questions like 'What is your
name?', Joe just managed to clinch the position.

Joe lives in the oldest house in America along with his Grandfather,
Rickety Old Bob, the oldest man in America and their pet pig Lightening
who is, (yes, you guessed it) the oldest pig in America.

The story of how Joe 'Four-eyes, wobbly-legs, sneezy-chops, no surname'
became a hero, began one Wednesday morning.

The day started like any other day with Joe joining his Grandfather and
pet pig
at the breakfast table.

"Morning, Gramps."

"Why, Howdy diddly, Joe." said Bob. "'This is DJ Rickety Old Bob
playing nothing but the best pensioner music to the Wild West all day,
every day on the station you should tune your hearing aids to - RADIO
WRINKLE.

A cloudy night is forecast with a good chance of rain. Excellent
weather for all
you Bingo players!"

Joe smiled at his aged Grandfather.

"You've been listening to that new fangled radio again, haven't you?
The Doctor told you to cut down or you'll get addicted."

"That's just total and utter hogwash!" protested Bob as he read out the
morning's traffic report.

Rickety Old Bob was a remarkable man. Take his monstrous beard for
example. From chin to tip it measured thirty-nine feet and seven inches
if it wasn't for the fact that the Guinness Books were not due to begin
publishing for another century, it might well have been a record
breaker.

The beard was something of a local legend. Many people believed that it
had a life of its own. In fact the previous year, there was one woman
in particular who was so convinced that she saw the beard 'breathing'
whilst Bob sat in church, that she contacted the local pest control
company. But following a
fight, an exchange of insults and several minutes of quizzical
prodding, it was discovered that the beard was not actually alive, but
in truth was inhabited by a wild polecat named Derek.

Bob was rather fond of his lengthy facial hair. He had begun to grow it
when he was only two months old over time he had become as attached to
the beard in much the same way as the beard had become attached to
him.

Owing to its magnificent size, Bob never needed to wear any clothes.
He
simply wrapped it around his body like a big hairy blanket.

"Pass the ketchup, Lightening."said Bob to the pig.

Joe then watched as his wrinkled old Grandddy helped himself to a bowl
of his favourite Mustard and garlic cornflakes and then proceeded to
squeezed the contents of the ketchup bottle all over them.

Joe then studied Lightening, the pig was scoffing every scrap of food
on the table, just as he always did. For years now Bob had tried to
teach the animal some manners, but with very limited success. He had
managed to get the pig to wear a tie at the dinner table, but that was
about as far as it went.

Bob spoke in between mouthfuls, spraying bits of food across the
table.

"Sit down Joe, I've prepared your usual breakfast."

Joe shook his head.

"No thanks Gramps, I ain't in the mood for fried cauliflower on toast
this morning thank you, I'll just have a cup of tea".

He took a sip of tea and then a long sniff,

"Ah...h there's nothing like the smell of a freshly brood cup of tea
first thing in the morning to clear the sinuses."

But suddenly a strange tickling sensation started in at the back of his
nose.

"Oh no ...Launch sequence initiated!"

T MINUS FIVE SECONDS AND COUNTING

"Begin the safety plan !" Shrieked Bob as he fumbled around in his
beard eventually pulling out a large golfing umbrella.

Lightening quickly donned a rainhat and sou'wester.

T MINUS FOUR SECONDS

"Secure the crockery !" Hollered Joe as he watched his nose expand to
twenty times its normal size.

Bob and Lightening spread themselves across the breakfast table and
gripped tightly onto the plates and cups.

T MINUS THREE SECONDS

"It's going to be a tremendous storm !" yelled Bob.

They all knew what was about to happen and waited with their eyes shut
tight in tense anticipation.

T MINUS TWO SECONDS

"Brace yourselves !" Screamed Joe as the deep rumbling sound from his
nasal passages grew louder and louder and louder.

"She's gonna blow !"

T MINUS ONE SECOND

LIFT OFF !

Joe launched a colossal, Academy Award winning sneeze....

"A..HHHHHHTIIIIISSSSSHHHHOOOOOO ! ! !"
...that sent great flurries of two hundred mile an hour airborne
dribble rocketing around the room pinning Bob and lightening to the
floor.

But within moments the force ten nasal hurricane had died down and Joe
gently wiped his nose with his serviette.

"Phew !" sighed Bob with relief as he placed his dribble soaked
umbrella back inside his beard.

"We were sure ready for that one." he said as he recalled the incident
the year before when one of Joe's surprise sneezes blew the entire
Arrowhead Creek Women's Institute into the next town.

"I've gotta git goin'" announced Bob. "Today's the day I make my annual
one thousand and seven mile journey to deliver Cousin Cissy's valuable
shiny birthday present."

He pulled out the small, smartly wrapped parcel and patted it
lovingly.

"But you might run into The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang." said Joe,
fearfully. ' They might rob you again. Remember last year when they got
Slightly Careless Russell to sit on your head?"

Old Bob brushed the remark aside and laughed.
"We're comin' up to the top of the hour where we'll be hearing the
latest news headlines. But first, let's hear the WRINKLE FM Light
Orchestra conducted
by Whit Witherspoon.".

Joe chuckled.

"Oh Gramps, you truly deserve to be locked up in a cell and chained to
the wall by your teeth, you crazy old duffer."

"Thank you son...much appreciated " replied Bob.

" D'you reckon Lightening will last the journey?" asked Joe, aware of
how outrageously idle the pet pig was.

"I've fitted him with a brand new engine." came Bob's reply. "I reacon
I'll git eighty miles a gallon outta him!"

Joe was doubtful. Lightening was a lazy son of a pig. He'd do nothing
all day but sleep, eat and generally laze around the house. In the
past, Bob and Joe had tried everything to get him to move.

Once, they even resorted to frying eggs and, loudly discussing what
would go well with them. But nothing seemed to work.

Meanwhile, because his mind was on the inactivity of the pig and not on
the activity of his nasal passage, Joe failed to spot what was about to
happen.
Before he had the chance to say, 'Hold on to your trousers there's a
sneeze on the way', a gargantuan, Herculean sized, Eurovision Song
Contest winning sneeze flew from his face sending everything in the
room, the breakfast items, the plates, the crockery, the table, the pig
and Rickety Old Bob crashing through the window and into the front
garden.

THREE

The trio of specially designed obesity resistant mopeds spluttered
their way across the prairie. The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang
favoured this mode of transport, as there was no horse alive strong
enough to withstand their mighty weight.

"I'm sure we've forgotten to do something." said Russell, his hair
slopping in the breeze sending splodges of chip fat splashing to the
ground behind him.

"But I can't think what it is."

Rick and Doug were lost in conversation. "So tell me about France
again." said Doug.

Rick smiled. "Een France, they have lard shops where you can buy
deeferent types of lard from all over the world."

"Wow." said Doug.

"And you can go eento any cinema and buy freshly made lard
meelkshakes."

"Een France eet's not against the law to eat lard. Eet's legal to buy
eeet, eet's legal to own eet and eef you own a lard shop, eet's legal
to sell eet. And een Paris, a portable lard shop on wheels visits every
house once a week."

"Wow!" said Doug. "Eef only we could buy a portable lard shop of our
own."

Rick nodded. "That's why we're going to rob Reekety Old Bob. Today ees
the day that he makes his annual one thousand and seven mile journey to
deeliver hees Cousin Cissy's valuable shiny birthday present.

And do you know what they put on French fries een Holland?"

Doug shook his head until the oil seeped out.

"Melted lard." grinned Rick, greedily.

" You know I'm really sure there's something we've forgotten to do."
said Russell.

FOUR

Rickety Old Bob tapped Lightening with his foot. "Git up, yer lazy pig.
Time to leave."

Joe appeared. "What's up Gramps?"

Bob stamped his feet. "Hickory, stagecoach, Hillbilly, stetson,
jinglebob and other Wild West phrases. Lightening don't wanna take me
to Cousin Cissy's." He glanced at Joe and sighed. "I'm afraid there's
only one thing to do ... "

"Yes!" roared Joe. "Let's eat him! I'll light the barbecue, you set the
table."

"No, no, no." gushed Bob. "Ah don't mean that. If he won't carry me,
I'll just have to carry him."

Yes, it must have been a peculiar sight that summer's morning to see
Rickety Old Bob, crinkliest man in America galloping along the main
street with a pig on his back.

Father Guffer, the skeletal Irish Priest of Arrowhead Creek chortled
madly as Bob clip-clopped past. "Top 'o the morning to yers,
Bob."

"Howdy, Father."

"Oi see dat yer've given the word 'piggyback' a whole new
meaning!"

Bob brought Lightening to a halt. Father Guffer took a step
nearer.

"So are yer's off to yer Cousin Cissy's now are yer?"

Bob nodded.

"You be careful, Old Bob. Oi'm told dat yer moight run into a little
trobble."

Bob laughed. "Due to re-surfacing work on the M25, there'll be
diversions until next spring. Leave early to pick up those pensions!"
Bob then neighed and began to gallop away.

BOOM!!

A crack of thunder crashed in the air above them. The sky went black. A
hot wind blew.

Ghostly figures swirled overhead, chanting Bob's name. Lightening the
pig let out a terrified porky squeal.

Father Guffer's bony hand grabbed Bob's beard, almost tugging it out by
the roots. Bob winced in agony. The strength of Father Guffer was
phenomenal.

"You been taking steroids, Father?" Bob asked.

A mystical green light appeared, bathing the Priest in an emerald glow.
Bob shuddered as Guffer slipped into a trance.

"Beware Old Bob, beware." His voice was echoed and mysterious.."Beware
of the Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang. Beware. Woooo! Dere coming to
get you -ooooooo."

Then everything returned to normal, Guffer gave a polite "Good day
now." and trundled merrily off toward the church.

Bob was bewildered. But he rapidly recovered and hailed the departing
Priest.

"Don't you worry, Father. Them Golightly lard heads won't be troubling
me none!"

FIVE

"YEEEE HAAA!" came the dreaded cry. Old Bob heard it and knew at once
that he was in trouble. Ten miles out of town and in grave trouble.
Suddenly, the obesity resistant mopeds rattled into view.

"I'm sure we've forgotten something." pondered Russell as the flabby
criminals climbed off their mopeds and waddled towards Bob.

Doug smirked as a globule of North Sea oil oozed out from his hair,
slid down his back and onto the ground, creating a mini slick.

"Geev us your Cousin Cissy's valuable shiny birthday present."

Bob tucked the present inside his beard.

"What valuable shiny birthday present would that be?"

Rick leaned forward. "Eef you don' do what we say, we weel get Russell
to seet on your head and wriggle."

Russell laughed densely and skipped around, making those silly
explosion noises again.

"What is it we've forgotten to do?" he said.

Bob remained firm. "You ain't having Cousin Cissy's valuable shiny
birthday present and that's final!"

He eyed the gang suspiciously. "And by the way, I like your
pyjamas."

Rick, Doug and Russell glanced down and realised they were still
wearing their night-clothes.

"That's it!" cheered Russell. `'I told you we forgot to do something!
Hooray! Hurry! Hooray! ... oops!"

The Golightly Gang shuffled awkwardly. Maybe they were embarrassed to
be seen wearing silky frilly pyjamas with a teddy bear pattern sewn
onto the front pocket. Rick seemed desperate.

"Erm, look. Just geev us Cousin Cissy's valuable shiny birthday present
so we can go."

Bob lifted his head in defiance and pointed. "Nobody, nobody who wears
fluffy slippers tells me what to do!"

Rick shot a look at Doug.."Fetch the incredibly unbreakable
rope."

Two minutes later, Rickety Old Bob and Lightening were tied to a large
cactus.

Bob cackled. "Is this the best you boys can do? This cactus cain't hurt
us. Me and the pig are both wearing our cactus proof underpants... 'And
now, the regional news.'"

Rick snarled. "We haven't feeneeshed yet!" He turned to Doug. "Cut off
hees beard!"

Doug fetched the biggest, sharpest knife that Bob had ever seen and
waved it about, menacingly.

Bob gulped. "Surely not even the Golightly Gang would stoop that low.
Right?"

Doug beamed. "Wrong." And with nothing more than a nimble swipe, the
longest beard in the world was sliced clean off. Bob was so shocked he
couldn't speak. Rick knelt down and breathed into Bob's face, causing
the old man to faint.

"Don ever mess weeth the Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang."

The bloated baddies laughed, climbed onto their mopeds. "Yeee Haa!!" ed
again and chugged off into the distance.

Bob woke up, and felt the spot where his beard used to be and
sighed.

This was extremely bad luck, but of coarse bad luck was something,
which was common in Bob's family, ever since Great Auntie Doris bought
a packet of After Eight mints and died at half past seven.

"Right, that is the final straw. Next year, Cousin Cissy's getting a
gift token."
SIX

That same afternoon, Joe was busy sweeping the floor in Murphy's
Saloon. It was the regular lunchtime routine. Dancing girls kept the
customers entertained, a musical band, The Lenny Crystal Four, kept the
atmosphere light and Reg Murphy the landlord kept the booze
flowing.

The chef's speciality of the day was the famous double-decker triple
pounder cheeseburger (made with fresh cheese) and home made horseradish
sauce (made with fresh horse).

Father Guffer and the league against gambling were at a table playing
cards in the corner and everyone was enjoying themselves ...that was
until the Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang lurched through the
doors.

The saloon fell silent.

Joe stopped sweeping and watched the tubby thieves from behind the
safety of the bar; Reg Murphy bravely addressed them.

"You Golightly boys, you's ain't a welcome here. Get out!"

Reckless Rick glared at the strawberry nosed landlord. Reg folded up
and smiled sweetly.

"Pull up a chair, sit down, put yer feet up. Can I get yer a
drink?"

Rick waddled up to the bar, his huge bottom scraping the floor behind
him.

Murphy quivered. "N-now don't get me wrong, Mr Golightly Brothers. What
I meant to say was that these floorboards ain't strong enough for your
combined bulk."

Rick moved closer to Murphy and breathed into his face. Murphy slipped
suddenly into a coma. Rick, Doug and Russell then began intimidating
the customers, circling them like vultures above their prey..twenty
stone vultures, to be precise, but vultures nonetheless.

"Put all the lard you have into thees sack." The customers pulled out
their packets of lard and tossed them into the sack. Some tried to
resist, but the threat of a deadly wardrobe soon put paid to any
have-a-go heroes.

It was only a matter of time before the Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang
spotted a rather pathetic looking Joe doing his best to hide behind his
broom handle. Doug saw him first and slomped across to greet him.

"Hello amigo." he grinned.

Joe was now the centre of attention and knew he had to do something. He
wielded his broom like a sword.
"On guard." he said.

The Golightly Gang burst out laughing.

"What're gonna do?" teased Rick. "Sweep us to death?"

Soon, the entire saloon was laughing all at Joe's expense. This cheesed
him off slightly.

T MINUS FIVE SECONDS

Oh dear, thought Joe. Not now. Please. Not now. Everyone stared at
Joe's rapidly expanding nose with amazement.

T MINUS FOUR SECONDS

By now, Joe was desperately thinking what to write in his will.
Something like:
"I leave my collection of Yugoslavian bus timetables to my pet pig ...
"

T MINUS TWO SECONDS

Hold on? What happened to three?

T MINUS THREE SECONDS

Phew! thought Joe. There it is.

T MINUS ONE SECOND

Then came the sneeze.

"AHHHHHH TIISSSHHHHOOO!!!!"

Rick, Doug and Russell were knocked to the ground and covered head to
toe in dribble. The rest of the saloon gasped in horror as they awaited
Joe's fate. Joe shut his eyes and prepared himself to be severely
killed. Rick leaped to his feet in a rage, barking an order at the
Lenny Crystal Four.

"Play the Can Can!"

Without hesitating, the band struck up the merry, high kicking melody,
which was quite a feat considering the Lenny Crystal Four were the only
band in history who didn't use musical instruments. Rick then turned to
Joe.

"Dance!".

Fearing for his life, Joe danced. Slowly at first, then gradually
picking up speed until he managed to kick his legs quite high. Then,
the strangest thing happened.

The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang began to join in. Joe was amazed,
but continued dancing. It was truly a fascinating sight to behold.
There before him were the deadliest, most ruthless criminals in the
Wild West pretending to be
showgirls in a Parisian night-club and with all the elegance and grace
of a herd of drunken buffalo, they all danced the Can Can, arm in
overweight arm, kicking their flabby legs to the rhythm of the
music.

The floorboards were positively heaving under the immense strain of it
all. If there was one thing Wild West saloons were not designed for, it
was three massive Mexican bandits performing the Can Can.

Dust wafted from the floor, tables shook, pictures fell off the walls,
the chandeliers swung precariously over the heads of the terrified
customers. Cracks appeared in the walls, holes in the ceiling, the
windows rattled and all the time, the gang stepped up the pace, dancing
faster and faster.

They sweated as never before. Huge blobs of molten chip fat dripped
from their bodies onto the floor. Great pustules of lard erupted on
their faces, soaking into their clothes. The saloon was just about
ready to collapse.

But suddenly, the dancing stopped.

The Golightly Gang had finally run out of steam. And, as a matter
of fact, so too had the Lenny Crystal Four. All at once the saloon
began to creak. It swayed back and forth like a house of cards. The fat
criminals, with their sackfuls of lard turned to leave, the ominous
sound of creaking floorboards echoing beneath them.

As they reached the door, Russell turned and spoke to the disbelieving
crowd.

"'Tis I - Slightly Careless Russell. Sweet smelling, dainty, funny,
cute and available for summer season." And with that, he lifted his leg
and ever so gently touched the floor with his foot.

A rumbling sound erupted from below. The floorboards rippled like
waves, then, a second later, the whole floor gave way, collapsing under
the weight of Russell Golightly's mighty leg. Everything in the saloon
followed the floor as it dropped like a stone downward. The Golightly
Gang climbed onto their obesity resistant mopeds and rattled
away.

The saloon customers climbed out of the crater, picked themselves up
and dusted themselves off.

"No floor." sobbed Joe. "Now I'm out of a job."

SEVEN

In the weeks that passed, The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang was
responsible for no less than one hundred and forty eight mail
robberies. They stole letters from children and parcels from old
ladies. It seemed their hunger for lard knew no bounds.

The citizens of Arrowhead Creek had decided that enough was enough.
Something had to be done. So one afternoon and after a new floor had
been
laid, the population of Arrowhead Creek filled Reg Murphy's saloon to
hear what Sheriff J.R Waggonwheel had to say on the subject.

"How do we stop the Golightly Gang, any suggestions?"

"Couldn't we just burst them with knitting needles?" asked Father
Guffer.

"No, no, no." blustered Waggonwheel. "We'll be scraping them off the
walls for a fortnight." The Sheriff was a tall, thin man with a pair of
very short legs and an incredibly wide moustache. So wide, in fact,
that he always had to enter a room sideways.

"Any other ideas?" he bellowed.

Joe could see Rickety Old Bob huddled in a far corner. The old man was
wearing a giant paper bag with two holes cut out to see through. How
unfortunate it was that Joe was a fully paid up member of the Complete
and Utter coward's society. Deep down, he had vowed to take revenge
upon the
Golightly Gang for cutting off Bob's beard.

While Joe swept, he listened to the ideas being suggested for a
solution to the mail robbery problem.

One particular plan had Piranha fish carrying the letters. A simple
idea - It proposed that theses ferocious flesh eating creatures would
travel in cleverly designed postal canals, collecting the mail from
underwater post boxes. A piranha fish network could be set up whereby
mail would be sent to any part
of the country at a very reasonable price. The quicker fish would be
responsible for transporting the first class mail while the slower fish
would be in charge of the second. This way, the post would never be
stolen again.

Obviously fishing would have to be banned, but that would be a small
price to pay for the benefits that PIRANHA POST would provide to the
country.

Everybody was thrilled at the prospect of having their letters
delivered by a ferocious razor toothed flesh eating fish. And, the idea
might have worked, had someone not pointed out that the letters would
just get all wet and soggy.

The townsfolk all agreed that the basic idea was a good one and all
that was needed to make it perfect was a slight adjustment. Which is
precisely how Sheriff Waggonwheel came up with the absolute brainwave
of the decade

- THE DONKEY DISPATCH SERVICE.

Instead of piranha fish, this system would require donkeys ridden by
only the bravest of men who in turn would ensure the protection and
safe delivery of the mail.

It was agreed that The Donkey Dispatch Service was simply the finest
idea to come out of Arrowhead Creek since Mad Dennis O'Rafferty
invented a
toilet seat with a hole in it.

The Sheriff's voice boomed through the saloon.

"So who's gonna be brave enough to leap on a donkey, ride a thousand
miles through dangerous territory, risk getting killed and be the first
hero of the donkey dispatch service?"

There was a long silence closely followed by a pause, then a moment of
quiet. Suddenly, Joe let out one of his loud and fruity surprise
sneezes, sending two old grannies hurtling across the bar.

Everyone stared at Joe. Joe stared back. The Sheriff gave a
bloodthirsty cackle.

"How about you, Joe 'spekkie, wobbly legs, sneezy chops, no
surname'?"

Joe started to shake. "M - m - m - me?"

"Are you brave enough?" cried the Sheriff.

"NO certainly not!" stated Joe quite categorically.

"Then seeing as you're not sure, let's take a vote on it." said Sheriff
Waggonwheel, turning to the gathering.

"All those in favour of Joe being brave enough to become the first
rider of the donkey dispatch service, put up yer hands."

Everyone except Joe put their hands up immediately.

"All those against?"

This time only Joe put his hand up.

"You're elected!" roared the Sheriff as he handed Joe a death
certificate.. "From this moment on, you'll be known as Fargo Joe. It
sounds better than 'spekkie, wobbly legs, sneezy chops, no surname.'
and it's a lot easier to fit on a tombstone."

A rousing cheer went up from the citizens of Arrowhead, grateful for
the safety of their letters and thankful for the fact that none of them
were Donkey Dispatch riders.

Waggonwheel continued, "Joe my boy, you could get beaten up, attacked,
strung up in the usual style, clubbed, crushed to death, thrown
off a cliff, blown up and sliced into tiny pieces. Are you sure you
want to do this?"

"No! NO! I don't want to do I - Mmmmufff!"

'Brave boy! Brave boy!" said the Sheriff as he put a hand over Joe's
mouth.
Joe could muster only a weak smile as the townsfolk flocked around him,
patting him on the back, shaking his hand and muttering things like
"Well done", "Brave boy" and "Can I have your boots when your
dead?"

Five big and burly cowboys scuttled across to Joe, grabbed him and
began throwing him into the air as the rest of the crowd sang a merry
rendition of 'For he's a jolly good suicide case', and only once or
twice did the five burly cowboys forget to catch him.

Sheriff Waggonwheel hustled himself through the crowd, his impressive
moustache tickling everyone nearby.

"Come with me kid.," he said to Joe. "If you're gonna do this job,
you'll need decent transport." He led Joe across the street to a
shabby, decrepit looking shack. The tatty sign that dangled hazardously
above the door read
DICEY JIM RIPPENDIKE - SECOND HAND DONKEY DEALER.

EIGHT

Dicey Jim had a voice that made him sound as if he were suffering from
a constant sore throat.

"I dunno, Guv'nor. You wanna donkey what can travel four fousand mile
wivaht stopping at a toilet?...you're avin a laugh!"

Dicey Jim was a small man, three foot tall to be precise, but his
confident manner and brash sales technique made him appear at least,
ooh, twice as high.

"Follow me" Said Dicey.

Joe and the Sheriff followed Dicey to a back room.

"Ere we are me old china. This is the one for you."

There was a long pause, Joe raised an eyebrow.

"But this is a food mixer."

"Yeah." nodded Dicey. "And it's a very nice food mixer, wanna buy
it?"

"No, we want a donkey." said Sheriff Wagonwheel.

"It's going cheap you know.".

"But we came in for a donkey." said Joe and the Sheriff together.

'It ain't nicked or nuffing."

"We want a donkey."

"Alright, alright, my life already... I aint deaf... look, I know it
says DONKEY DEALER on the sign, but to tell the troof, we're a bit
short on donkeys at the moment... but we are expecting a new load in
any day."

"Oh, that's just great!" moaned Joe. "No donkeys!"

Joe tried to imagine he delivering letters on the back of a food
mixer.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Dicey. "Wait a minute, I do have one
donkey left, but somehow I don't think you would be interested."

Joe and the Sheriff lurched forward. "Yes we would!"

"Well alright then... you sure you wouldn't rather have the food
mixer?"

"We're sure."

"Well come wiv me, I got him locked up in the garden shed."

Joe and Sheriff Wagonwheel followed the donkey dealer to the garden
shed. Dicey rested his hand on the doorknob.

"Now this is your last chance, you're sure you don't want the food
mixer?"

"Open the door ! ! !" screamed Joe and the Sheriff in unison.

" Alright... alright already, I only asked." and with that Dicey flung
open the shed door.

Joe and the Sheriff peered inside, and there, standing in the
half-light was a rather pathetic looking animal of the donkey
variety.

"Ta Daa !" trumpeted Dicey with delight as he presented the flea bitten
beast.
"Hmmn." said the Sheriff thoughtfully as he began stroking his humungus
moustache.

"What do you think Joe?"

Joe looked the animal up and down.

"I think we were probably better off with the food mixer."

The donkey gently brayed and strained his eyes just enough to make out
the shape of Fargo Joe. The animal stumbled forward and nudged him
gently.

"This ere is Two Feathers, only twenty fousand gallops on the clock and
one previous owner... 'oo was a Nun." Dicey Jim patted the animal's
back, small clouds of dust rose from his fur. The men coughed..

"Why he's perfect!" spluttered Sheriff Wagonwheel, a man not best noted
for his knowledge of donkeys,

Joe on the other hand was disgusted.

"This donkey has bandy legs and glasses!"

"That's right." chuckled the Sheriff. "He's the spitting image of
you."

"Would you like to tell me how I'm supposed to deliver the mail on the
back of something that resembles a sofabed with ears!" cried Joe in
desperation.

"You're avin a laugh already, now you listen to me young man don't let
appearances fool you, Two Feathers may look weak but he's really as
strong as an Ox." Dicey had no sooner finished speaking than the donkey
gave a tiny sneeze and collapsed, pinning Joe to the floor.

Joe glared at Dicey from beneath the donkey "Don't tell me" said Joe
"You're all aving a laugh!"

NINE

Later that day, Joe held the reins as he and Two Feathers ambled down
the main street.

"Oh Feathers, what have we let ourselves in for?, we don't even look
like heroes."

Two Feathers considered this and broke into a steady trot, pulling Joe
to the ground and dragging him through the dust right up to the door of
Whimsy Gussett's Hero Hat Shop. Joe looked up, recognised the shop and
spat out several mouthfuls of gravel.

"What are we doing here? "The Donkey pointed at Joe's filthy brown hat.
Joe got the message. "Your right, TF. I got to get me a white hat. If
I'm to be a real hero I need to get myself the right head gear!"

" Awful sorry son, we're plum out of white hats." said Whimsy
Gussett.

Joe looked horrified. "No white hats."

"Don't get much call for 'em round these parts." Shrugged Whimsey.
"Only hats we got is pink hats."

"I can't wear no girly pink hat, I'll get beaten up the moment I step
outside the door.

"Awful sorry son, Pink hats is all we got."

Joe covered his face with his hands. This was definitely a bad day that
was getting worse by the minute.

TEN

The sun rose across the Arrowhead plain to herald in another day, but
this was no ordinary day...this was the big one, day one of the Donkey
Dispatch Service.

Arrowhead Creek was jam packed with people who had turned out to cheer
on Fargo Joe and Two Feathers. It was a huge ceremony. People were
singing, dancing and waving flags. The Sheriff had even laid on a
mobile disco for the folks entertainment.

"Citizeens of Arrowhead, welcome to this the first day of the Donkey
Dispatch Service." Sheriff Waggonwheel stood on a huge platform
decorated in multi-coloured bunting and addressed the excited
crowd.

"And may I remind you all that Mrs Ditch's obscure cake shop still has
some of her delightful Beetroot Gateaux left. Oh...and don't forget the
tombola is at three, one of you lucky people out there will win a
luxurious buffalo dung face pack. And now, if I can have your
attention, let us all give a big Arrowhead
welcome to the man of the hour. The man we're depending on to deliver
the mail to our relatives who live more than 4,000 miles away. Ladies
and Gentlemen here he is... our very own Fargo Joe, lets hear it for
the boy."

Joe and his donkey were met by wild applause, which, incidentally, came
to a sudden halt when the crowd spotted Joe's bright pink hat. An
agonising silence fell over Arrowhead's main street you could have
heard a pin drop. Joe gulped and timidly took off his pink chapeaux and
held it out to the
bewildered on-lookers, and, in a wavering voice he said.

"Let's see those letters!"
Another great cheer broke out as every member of the assembled crowd
rushed forward to place a letter in the hat. Soon Joe's headgear was
bulging fit to burst, but still Joe somehow managed to
squeeze it onto his head.

A small boy ran up to Joe. "Can I have your autograph please mister?"
Said the young boy.

"Oh, no no." replied an embarrassed Joe. "I never done no autograph
before... sorry kid."

"WHHAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!, he won't give me his autograph." Screamed the
small boy, tears streaming down his face.

"Now don't cry little feller, I'll give you my autograph." Said Joe.
The small boy smiled. "Do you have pen?".

The small boy shook his head. "No."

"Oh, me neither, what a shame...bye!"

"WHHAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!," Screamed the small boy.

Joe covered his ears and called out. "Does anyone have a pen?"

At that precise moment an usherette from the local Cinema walked
past.

"Novelty pens! Novelty pens for sale. All types."

She carried a tray on which was a large collection of odd looking pens.
Joe ran over to her. "A pen please."

"What one do you want? Said the usherette. "I got pens disguised as
grenades, pens that look like boats, hat pens, elephant pens, a pen
that looks like a Sherman tank, Star Trek Next Generation pens, nuclear
power plant pens, pork pie pens, gorilla pens -"

"I'll take a grenade pen.," said Joe, he paid the usherette, grabbed
the grenade pen and scribbled his signature onto the small boy's face.
Then came the big moment.

Joe gave a more or less confident "Giddy up there." and The Donkey
Dispatch Service moved down the street the crowd following behind
cheering, on went the small procession past Reg Murphy's Saloon, past
Doctor Proctor' surgery, past Mr Patel 's Mini Mart and on past the
jail

As they were about to leave the town boundary, Joe heard the voice of
Father Guffer call out from the crowd. "Take care, my boy and may God
go with yers."
"I hope he brings his own transport, Father,' replied Joe. "There's
only enough room on this donkey for one."
They rode off into the sunset until the citizens of Arrowhead Creek
could see them no longer.

"Well," said Waggonwheel. "That's the last we'll see of him. Come on,
let's play Pin the Cactus on the Baby!"

ELEVEN

A few hours into the journey, Joe and Two Feathers rested in the
rockiest area of Quarrygulch Canyon. There they sat munching on a
splendid packed lunch prepared especially for them by Rickety Old
Bob.

"Boy," said Joe. "I don't care what you say, these raw liver and
marmalade sandwiches are just yummy."

Suddenly, a female voice screeched out nearby.

"For Hecky's sake! Get up! I won't tell you again!"

Joe and Two Feathers looked up. The voice seemed to be coming from
behind a nearby group of rocks. Without making a sound, Joe crept
across and peered over. On the other side was a young woman wearing a
bright yellow tracksuit. , She was standing over a horse, which was
stretched out on
the ground. ,The woman had shoulder length brown hair and the most
beautiful big brown eyes. , she was without doubt the prettiest girl
Joe had ever seen. He called out. "Hello, nice lady."

The young woman looked up, saw him and screamed.

"AAAAAOGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!! ! !"

Joe leapt out of his trousers and let off a hundred tiny sneezes in
rapid succession. Moments later, the woman popped up from behind the
rock.

"Hey, short legs, you know anything about horses?"

Joe thought for a second, "Erm, don't bet on the one with only three
legs?

The woman put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "If I wanted a
laugh, I'd have got you to tell me your life story. Come over here
short legs."

Joe scrambled over, his hand extended. "Hi there, I'm Joe. First rider
of the -

"He's broken down." She said, interrupting and pointing at the horse
lying at her feet. Joe jumped into action. "Well, it's lucky for you
that I carry a handy horse repair kit wherever I go."

The woman did not appear to be over-impressed. "Just get a move on
buddy. I got an aerobics class in half an hour."
An hour later, Joe had finished repairing her horse. He discovered that
its battery was flat, so by connecting jump leads from Two Feathers, it
was not long before the horse was cantering about like a Champion
showjumper. The chat up circuit in Joe's brain began working overtime.
"Er... Do you come
here often? What's your name? Where do you live?"

The young woman looked Joe up and down. "What are you, a policeman
asking all these questions?" She sighed. "The name's Little Petal. My
Dad is the Indian Chief of the Ditititikaka tribe. I'd like to travel
the world and my favourite colour is red. Now, excuse me, I gotta
shoot."

"Maybe I could escort you home." said Joe racing after her.

"Yeah, and maybe I could be President!" she answered back. "Look, I
don't wish to be outrageously rude short legs, but I could never be
seen out with a man wearing a pink hat."

"Oh." Joe was heartbroken. Then, cheerfully, he said. "If I promised
not to wear the hat would you like to go out to dinner?"

Little Petal sighed. "You're really not that clever, are you? Look,
just tell me one thing you've done in your entire life that's
brave."

Joe was stumped.

"Honey, you got ta toughen up to win this girl!"

Joe followed her. "I swatted a fly once . . ."

Little Petal stopped and looked at Joe. "Listen, the guy who takes me
out to dinner has to wrestle alligators, leap off cliffs and swallow
razor blades all before breakfast!"

"So you don't want dinner then?"

As the conversation continued neither 'Fargo' Joe nor Little Petal were
aware that they were being watched. The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang
were perched high on top of Quarrygulch Canyon. Reckless Rick turned to
his brothers and chuckled in the customary Mexican fashion. "Just
theenk of
all the valuables en those letters that 'Fargo' Joe ees carryeeng een
hees hat."

This thought obviously appealed to Russell who immediately started
running around in crazed excitement making those explosion sounds
again. "Tis I - Slightly Careless Russell. Pretty, skinny and wise -
Here, I wonder if he's got any lard under that hat."

Rick whispered. "Thees 'Fargo' Joe ees no match for the powerful
Golightly Gang. We weel attackheem."

"But he wears a peenk hat!" said Doug. "I can't fight anyone weeth a
peenk hat. Eet would be like fighting a girl!"
"He's right, Rick." added Russ. "It would be like fighting a
girl."

Rick threw his arms up in dismay and caught them before they hit the
ground. "That es why weel be able to steel the mail so eesily! No HERO
ever wore a peenk hat, quick Let's vamoose!"

Some time later, Joe and Two Feathers were happily trotting in the
evening sun. Joe could not help thinking about Little Petal. "She's
lovely." he mused. "I wonder why she didn't want to come out to dinner,
oh well never mind, you know TF delivering these letters sure turned
out to be easy work. And what's more -. There's no sign of The Fat
Brothers anywhere."

But as the words left his lips, he heard a loud "YEEEEE HAAAAA!!" and
was immediately confronted by the three, fat, bloated, oily, sweaty,
Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang.

"Well, well, well," beamed Reckless Rick as he waved his coffee table
in Joe's face. "Eeef eet eesn't our amigo 'Fargo' Joe."

Joe absolutely despised the Golightly Gang with their lardy breath and
saggy legs. This was the same gang who cruelly chopped off his
Grandpa's beard and who made him dance the Can Can in front of all
those people. But right now, Joe was feeling helpless.

'Honey, you gotta toughen up to win this girl!'

"That was Little Petal's voice!" thought Joe. Then he realised. "Oh,
it's all right. It's only a flashback."

"Eenside your peenk girly hat" said Rick "ees enough valuables to keep
us een lard for a whole year."

"Honey, you gotta toughen up to win this girl."

The voice echoed in Joe's head. Little Petal was quite right; I must at
least look tough. Joe leapt down from Two Feathers and stood in front
of The Gang. He puffed his chest out and tried to look big. Rick, Doug
and Russ looked at each other and burst out laughing. Joe was having
none of this. Now was the time to toughen up. He was not going to let
these crooks make him look foolish again.

He sauntered up to them and stared into their eyes. Then, without
warning, he stuck out his tongue and began skipping around in a circle,
chanting "Nah nah na na nah!"

The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang were lost for words as 'Fargo' Joe,
first rider of The Donkey Dispatch service and bravest man in the Wild
West wiggled his bottom at them.

"He's crazier than a stampede of deranged chickens!" Rick screamed.
"Get me hees hat."

But before any of the gang had the chance to retrieve it, Joe started
dancing the Can Can. Moments later, Two Feathers joined in. It was too
tempting to resist and Rick, Doug and Russ simply had to start
dancing.

After a few moments, Joe and Two Feathers quietly sneaked off, leaving
The Enormous Greasy Golightly brothers to dance the night away.

Legend tells that it was nearly two days before they realised that Joe
had gone.

TWELVE

Over the course of the following weeks, The Donkey Dispatch Service
grew in size. More and more riders were recruited until eventually,
sixty were employed, each one of them carrying out courageous letter
carrying duties.

The DDS as it had come to be known was a staggering success and it was
not long before Joe was appointed Senior Dispatch Rider in charge of
all the others. Joe was given an office - well, a small caravan to be
precise - which served as both the nerve centre of the DDS and a place
where Joe and Two Feathers could hold the occasional rave. But apart
from its remarkable popularity (there were stories of people travelling
four thousand miles to Arrowhead Creek with letters addressed to
themselves just so they could have them delivered back by The Donkey
Dispatch Service), the most
Bizarre thing about it all was that each one of the other riders had
the same name... Tex.

Now this presented 'Fargo' Joe with one or two problems because
whenever he called the name of one of his fellow riders, he got
fifty-nine replies. And the daily roll call quickly became a farce. For
each time Joe called the
register, it was;
"Tex?".
"Here."
"Tex?"
"Here."
"Tex?"
"Here."
"Tex?"
"Here."
And so it went on.
However, the success of the DDS was not music to the ears of everyone.
The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang had no choice but to stop trying to
steal the mail and therefore had no other means of earning money.
Things for them were looking grim and they said as much to the boss of
their gang, Ma
Golightly.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY??" roared Ma Golightly at two thousand decibels.
She stopped chopping firewood with her bare hands and marched up to her
petrified sons. "What do you mean we're almost broke?"

Rick panicked and began quaking. "Well, w... w... we ain't
completely
broke. Just a teensy weensy bit broke."

Ma went ballistic. Steam bellowed out from her nostrils. Her eyes
bulged and her face turned bright red.

She was obviously a bit upset. "Can't I even trust you meatballs to
bring home some money without messing it up?" Ma was six times as large
as the boxing heavyweight champion of the world. She had arms like logs
and breath that could kill a horse at ten paces. She adjusted her metal
hairnet, lit up another cigar, rubbed the stubble on her chin and
stared at her boys. "Come a little nearer to your poor, frail
Mammy."

Cautiously, Rick, Doug and Russell edged closer. "Boys," she whispered
in her cheese grater voice. "There's something I want you to have. My
Ma gave it to me like her Ma before her and her Ma before her. And now
I'm giving it to you."

"Wat ees eet, Ma?" asked the gang, expecting that Ma had baked them an
enormous lard pie.

"This -"

CRACK!

Ma swiped Rick across the head with a very large cricket bat. CRACK!
She did exactly the same to Doug. CRACK! CRACK! And to Russ, although
she had to hit him twice because his head was made of stone. And she
made certain that she hit each of them with the same force, as she did
not want to be
seen to have favourites. "If you dingleberries don't come up with a
money making plan by this time tomorrow, I will throw you out of this
house by your nostril hair!" So powerful was her voice that every
window in a fifty-mile radius of their house shattered into a million
tiny pieces.

The paint on walls blistered, ceiling tiles cracked and china ornaments
on mantelpieces exploded. "Now - GET OUT!"

It was obvious from the speed with which the boys ran from the house
that they were more than terrified of their Ma. They needed money,
quick money. Little did they know that on that very same evening they
would happen upon the perfect opportunity to get some?

THIRTEEN

The warm orange sun was ready to set on the Wild West and make way for
the chilly white moon.
Prairie dogs howled, crickets chirped and Buffalo sang songs around the
campfire. Night was falling and Little Petal was out jogging. Dressed
in her Tribal shell suit, she ran her usual thirty-mile circuit around
the outskirts of Arrowhead Creek with considerable ease.

"Its I..."

The voice took her by surprise. She stopped and squinted through the
evening mist.

"Its I..."

She was slightly concerned now, but tried not to show it.

"Its I... "

She was beginning to worry.

"Its I..."

Who is that? The voice seemed to be coming from behind her. She turned
to look, but could see no one.

"Its I..."

She swung back round and came face to face with Slightly Careless
Russell.

"Its I - Slightly Careless Russell! Muscular, fit and hunk. And you're
going to be our hostage."

Little Petal put her hands on her hips. "Oh yeah? Listen, Tubbo, no one
with a stomach that can stretch over three time zones tells me what to
do."

Russell lunged forward to grab her. She slapped him around the face. He
looked quite shocked. He clasped his cheek. "Ouch!" As he moved towards
her. She slapped him again.

"Ouch. Stop it."

He tried to grab hold of her again. She slapped him again.

"Stop hitting me."

He stepped nearer to her and she slapped him again.

"That hurts!"

And again. In fact, she kept slapping him until he sank slowly to the
floor.

"Ouch. Ouch. Help! Help me!"

Reckless Rick and Dangerous Doug arrived to witness Little Petal
beating up their brother. Russell was curled up in a ball, trying in
vain to defend himself from the young woman's blows.

"Help me. Ouch!"

Rick and Doug rescued their brother, pulling Little Petal away.

"Eef you don stop struggling, we weel force-feed you four tons of
lard!" said Rick.

Little Petal gasped, in wide-eyed amazement. "You wouldn't!"

"We would."

"But you'd wreck my carefully worked out fitness programme."

"Yous gonna be our hostage." said Doug. "And your Daddy ees gonna pay
big cash to get you back."

"Hey, I ain't being no one's hostage if I don't get wholemeal bread and
cucumber quiche every night."

Rick laughed. "Eet weel be lard pie and chips five times a day for
you!"

The Golightly Gang then tied Little Petal up.

"Listen, sweethearts, you're making a big mistake here. Demanding a
ransom from my old man ain't a clever thing to do, you know."

And how true her words were. It was a well documented fact in the Wild
West that her father, the chief of The DitititiKaka tribe, was the
meanest Indian Chief in living memory.

FOURTEEN

The camp of he DitititiKaka Tribe was sited just a few miles from the
'Wigwams R Us superstore.

Running Tapp, the chief, was not what you would call a cheerful man. In
fact, the tribe's motto was 'Moan forever with pride.' Anyway, at this
particular time of a most miserable day, Tapp was reclining on his
Deluxe four poster bed in his en-suite wigwam when his loving squaw,
Beryl, who conveniently
happened to be his wife, came rushing in..

"Tapp, Tapp!" She cried, her mouth moved even when she wasn't
speaking.

"Not now, not now!" whined Tapp, grumpily. "You know better than to
disturb during daily moan session."

Every morning at nine, Big Chief Running Tapp would devote half an hour
to what he called his daily moan session. It was then that he could get
in some serious uninterrupted whinging, whining and general
misery.

"Heap serious problems." he ranted. "Cost of living heap expensive,
central heating packed up again, the quality of bread is getting worse,
paper boy deliver wrong magazine..."

"Tapp, love, listen to me."

" Cactus famine worst for five years, stock market crash again, buffalo
only travel ten miles to the gallon"

"Tapp, Tapp, it's about our daughter."

"Ozone layer getting thinner, sea levels rising, ice caps melting,
world about to end... and look! My toenails need cutting."

Beryl tutted. She had heard all this before. She tutted, rolled her
eyes and tutted again.

"Oh shut up Tapp." She said, tutting once more.

"Where all our servants?"

"I've told you before love, they've all gone on holiday to
Ibiza."

Tapp was becoming flustered. "Well, where's our daughter? She can cut
toenails. "

Beryl tutted twice, pausing in between to tut and tut again. "That's
what I've been trying to tell you, you big soppy, Petal 's gone
missing."

Tapp wiggled his toes. "Missing?

"Yes love."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes love."

"Have you searched for her?"

"Yes love. I've looked everywhere. Behind the fridge, under the bed,
down the back of the settee."

But Tapp was not listening. He was busy struggling to nibble his
toenails with his teeth. "She's probably running a marathon or
something. Go find her."

Beryl tutted seventeen times before letting off one gigantic tut. As
she headed for the door, Tapp called after her.

"And don't take too long, Um daughter heap good with the
scissors."
Beryl tuted. "Oh shut up Tapp, you know heap well that scissors haven't
been invented yet.".

FIFTEEN

Joe and Two Feathers were abruptly awakened from their afternoon nap by
someone knocking down the front door of their office. Joe got to his
feet

"Who's there?"

"Tis I - Slightly Careless Russell! Clean, intelligent, tiny and not
the slightest hint of obesity on my delicate body!"

Dangerous Doug stepped out from behind Russ and gave Joe a greasy
grin.

"What's going on?" asked Joe.

"Meester Joe," slimed Doug, "We's wondereeng eef you could deeleever a
letter for us."

This caught Joe somewhat unawares. The delivery of a letter was not
such a strange request were it to come from normal human beings, but as
it came from two thirds of the thickest criminal gang since The
Montague Brothers (who used to burgle their own homes), Joe had every
reason to be suspicious.

"Where's Reckless Rick?" he asked.

Russell's mouth beat his brain to the finishing post. "He's looking
after our hosta-Oooomf!" Doug shoved a slab of lard into his brother's
big mouth to shut him up. It worked.

"Where is this letter going?" Joe asked.

"To the Chief of the DitititiKaka tribe." answered Doug. "It's, er, an
invitation to a school reunion." Doug displayed the gaps in his teeth.
"The Chief and me go back ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"Okay." said Joe. "I'll deliver your letter. It'll cost you one
dollar."
Doug and Russ fumbled through their pockets, searching for coins amidst
the sweet wrappers, peanuts and fluff. Eventually Joe received his
dollar.

"Thank you, boys. Your letter will get to the camp tomorrow morning,
I'll see to it personally."

SIXTEEN

The next morning, Joe and Two Feathers made the journey to The
DitititiKaka camp to deliver the letter to Big Chief Running Tapp. On
arrival Joe was ushered into Tapp's room. The Chief jumped off his bed
and scampered over, lifting his foot up and waving it about in Joe's
face, "Thank heaven you're here. did you bring your nail
clippers?"

"Eh?" said Joe.

"I lay on the bed here and hold my leg up, you can cut my nails, It
been heap serious nightmare, I tell you. I got through four pairs of
Moccasins in one week, Tragic."

"He?" Joe was becoming more confused by the minute.

Tap narrowed his eyes. "You are from Arrowhead Creek Beauty and Nail
Clipping Parlour, aren't you?"

"Fraud not, Chief. I got a letter for you.".

Tapp's face returned to its well-established grumpiness and he slumped
back on his bed, sighed deeply and muttered something about the
shocking state of the roads. At that moment, Beryl trotted in and
noticed Joe.

"Oh, a letter for you, Tappy."

"Unless it letter from National Association of Professional Toe Nail
Cutters, I not want to read it."

Beryl yanked the letter away from Joe.

"Well, I'LL read it then." She ripped open the envelope, quickly
scanned the contents and went quite pale, which is quite a feat for a
red skin.

"Is it from National Association of Professional Toe Nail Cutters?"
enquired Tapp.

"Well if it is," sobbed Beryl, "they've kidnapped our daughter!"

Tapp trembled with rage. "WHAAT??" He sprang off the bed and snatched
the letter from his wife. "Dear Big Chief Running Legs." Tapp had to
read that bit again. "Running LEGS? "We have kidnapped your Little
Petal. If you want to see your daughter again follow these instructions
to the letter. Leave fifty thousand dollars in the rubbish bin outside
Arrowhead Creek Bingo Hall at one p.m. tomorrow or the kid gets it. Oh,
and if possible, if you have any spare lard about the place, we'll have
that, too."
Joe thought carefully. That didn't sound like a school reunion letter.
He watched Tapp bound back and forth blustering all kinds of rude
phrases.

"Beryl, call up tribal warriors. ..Big Chief Running Legs...cheek!" he
spouted in disgust. "I shall get back daughter without paying any
ransom. And if anyone get in my way, I give them Mohican haircut with
blunt Tomahawk!"

Joe knew that since Arrowhead Creek appeared in the ransom note, it
would be the town that Tapp would wage war on. But without weapons,
Arrowhead was feeble compared to the might of the DitititiKaka tribe.
Joe decided that it was up to him to rescue his beloved Petal. But he
knew he could
not do it alone, so he planned to enlist the help of The Donkey
Dispatch Service.

At a meeting attended by the fifty-nine riders all called Tex, he
explained his plan to rescue Little Petal.

"My fellow dispatch riders," said Joe as he stood before the gathering
of Texes. "Any day now the attractive and very charming tourist town of
Arrowhead Creek will fall under attack from The DitititiKaka Indians. I
feel that it is up to us, The Donkey Dispatch Service, to rescue the
Chief's daughter Little Petal from the vile clutches of the Enormous
Greasy Golightly Gang before this attack happens."

A donkey dispatch rider near the front put up his hand.

"Yes, Tex?" said Joe.

The rider spoke up. "Are you seriously expecting us to risk our lives
for the sake of a two bit, filthy, worthless, no good, chicken feed,
scaredy cat, yellow belly town like Arrowhead Creek?"

"Yes, I am." said Joe.

"Oh." said Tex.

Another rider stood up and raised his hand.

"Yes Tex?" replied Joe.

"And what makes you think we'll do such a thing?".

"Well," said Joe hesitantly, "because the town is in danger, there's a
damsel in distress and it's up to us to fight the forces of evil! We
were born for this moment. It is our destiny. If we don't strike now,
who knows what will happen? And besides, the Sheriff says that the
first man to capture the Golightly Gang
will get a reward of one thousand dollars."

There was a load gasp from the fifty-nine riders all called Tex.

"Now, who's with me?"

All the Texes' bobbed up and down with their hands in the air crying,
"ME! ME! ME!"

"This is what we're going to do." said Joe with a happy face. "Once we
track down the Golightly Gang, my partner and faithful companion Two
Feathers will disguise himself as me."

The fifty-nine riders looked at each other.

Joe continued. "And, once the gang have fallen for the trick they will
chase Feathers away, leaving us to rescue Little Petal. There, I told
you it was simple!"

The fifty-nine riders of The Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex
cheered loudly whilst making 'loony' signs at Joe when he wasn't
looking.

SEVENTEEN

Big Chief Running Tapp was as far he could get from being relaxed. He
paced the floor before his assembled tribe of Indian warriors and read
the riot act. "Little Petal been kidnapped. Brave Indian warriors, we
are strong and powerful and will take revenge on Arrowhead Creek... And
they called me
Big Chief Running Legs, as well!"

He glanced at his braves and noticed that none of them were listening
to a word that he was saying. Some had dozed off, a few picked fluff
from between their toes and several of them were making daisy
chains.

Tapp stomped his foot. "Why you not listen? I am talking about finding
um daughter." The truth was that the warriors of the DitititiKaka tribe
couldn't find
sweets in a sweet shop let alone Tapp's daughter.

Running Tapp was about to continue when the warriors turned to each
other and started chatting. Tapp was getting slightly miffed now. "What
you all
DOING?"

ShBoom, a skinny brave with buck teeth and sandals stepped forward.
"Er, excuse me Chiefy, but when do we all do this fighting
stuff?"

"Tonight."

There was a protesting murmur from the braves. ShBoom looked awfully
apologetic. "Gosh, we couldn't possibly fight tonight. Ooh no, at eight
o'clock, we're all going to the seashell club."

Tapp eyed his men suspiciously. "Seashell club?"

"Yes, that's right, Chiefy. Where we all go and make cute little models
out of seashells. Look! Here's one I made earlier. As you can see, I
have glued together lots of tiny shells and oooohhh! Look, I've made a
giant seashell don't you think it's pretty!"

"Seashells..." sighed Tapp miserably. "Okay. What if we attack
tomorrow?"

The warriors each pulled out a diary, found tomorrow's page and sadly
shook their heads.

"Well, how about Monday at ten?"

"Coffee morning." said the braves, regretfully.

"So when are you all free?" stormed the Chief.

Just then, DooWahDiddyDiddy, a brave with big feet, spoke up. "Erm,
well, we can fit you in lunchtime on Tuesday, but other than that, will
breakfast next Friday week do you?"

"NO, IT WILL NOT!!" snapped Tap. "We attack tonight! At sundown!"

"Oh goody!" squealed DooWahDiddyDiddy. "Then we can be home in time for
Coronation Street!"

"It going to be heap big massacre," promised Tapp, "so sharpen arrows,
put on war paint, synchronise sundials, put out note for Milkman. It's
time to party... war party!"

The braves reacted with some excitement. "Will there be fizzy drinks
and fairy cakes at the party?" asked BeBop A Lula, a midget
Indian.

Running Tapp clenched his teeth. "Um no."

"Is it um fancy dress party?"

"Um no! "

BeBop A Lula's face fell. "But um wanted to wear tomato costume." Tapp
was about to complain when all the braves began shouting that they too
wanted to go into battle wearing fancy dress.

"We might as well have fun Chiefy." said ShBoom. Tapp knew when he was
beaten and eventually gave in, allowing his Indian Braves to wear
whatever fancy dress they wanted.

EIGHTEEN

The Wickbell Ravine was a vast, mile deep canyon with an angry,
swirling river gushing through its centre. At the top stood Joe and the
fifty-nine riders of The Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex.

"Ah see something!" cried one of the Texes who was checking the river
below with a pair of binoculars.

"It's The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang! But they're an awful long way
away."

"You're supposed to look through the other end." said Joe helpfully. He
grabbed the binoculars and looked for himself. Sure enough, he could
see the unmistakable bulks of the three slimy Mexicans.

Joe couldn't believe his eyes. "They're doing push ups, press ups and
knee bends!" But when he saw Little Petal nearby in her role as fitness
instructor, Joe knew that the Golightlies were engaged in a spot of
aerobics.

"Oh, can't we stop now laydee, please?" begged an exhausted Rick. "We's
all worn out."

"No" cried Little Petal in her best Jane Fonda voice. "We've only been
going an hour! We've got three marathons to run before dinner."

"But we (puff) look incredibly seely (puff) een these (puff) green and
purple (puff) shell suits!" wheezed Doug.

"I want my kidnappers to be at the peak of physical fitness."
proclaimed Little Petal.

"We are at our peak of physical fitness!" insisted Russ, who knew he
was telling a little fib.

Joe turned to his men. "Let's put my cunning plan into action." and he
started to take off his clothes, much to the embarrassment of the
fifty-nine riders of The Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex.

"Give me my grenade pen TF. I may need it later on in the story." When
he was down to only his vest and underpants, he handed the clothes to
Two Feathers who began putting them on.

"And don't forget, we got to do this rescue real quick." said Joe to
his donkey. "I was arrested the last time I walked around in just my
underwear."

"I'm fed up weeth thees!" screamed Reckless Rick as they were just
about to start on the wall bars. "Let's just throw her een the
reever!"

"But Rick," called Russell "what about that portable lard shop on
wheels we're saving up to buy?"

"I don't care about that!" blasted Rick. "Let's just throw her
een."

The Golightly Gang stopped exercising and lumbered towards Little
Petal, grinning all the while.

"Back off, Dudes!" she warned. "Throw me in and I swear to you. I'd
probably drown."

Meanwhile, back at the Indian camp.

The Indian Warriors of the DitititiKaka tribe gathered around to listen
to Coach Billy J. Turner of the Kentucky Bobbysox give them their final
pep talk.

"Okay, boys. This is the game plan. We go in low and we go in hard, and
we put 'em down! Now let's get out there an' WIN, WIN, WIN!!"

The warriors, full of enthusiasm, let out a war cry, slapped hands and
darted back to the changing room.

Back at the Wickbell Ravine...

The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang had just finished tying together
Little Petal's hands and feet.

They then carried her to a high, protruding rock next to the swirling
river.

"You mean and nasty criminals!" spluttered Petal. "You'll never get
away with this!"

"Why not?" asked Slightly Careless Russell.

"I don't know. That's what you're supposed to say in these sort of
situations, ain't it?" replied Petal.

But, unbeknownst to the Golightly Gang, the shadows of sixty Donkey
Dispatch riders stretched across the rocks behind them.

Back at the camp...

Big Chief Running Tapp sat astride his impressive steed Ethel, ready to
lead his tribe into battle. He turned to see his men emerging from the
changing room. They were, indeed, wearing their fancy dress costumes.
Some were dressed as vicars, others as Superman, a few were disguised
as Elvis Presley, two as Doctor Who and another as Dorothy from The
Wizard of Oz with BeBop A Lula dressed as a tomato.

Tapp muttered a swear word that the braves did not hear.
Then, on the last beat of the war drum, the warriors moved off, to the
cheers and delight of the tribe's women and children. Unfortunately, as
the horses were so old and had been out of commission for so long, they
kept stalling.

Running Tapp whispered into Ethel's ear. "Dead snails would move
faster! "And he cursed the day he allowed his RAC membership to
expire.

Behind the rocks at the bottom of the Wickbell ravine Joe whispered to
his riders. "Present weapons."

The fifty-nine riders of the Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex
produced their weapons - 59 silver Peashooters glistened in the evening
sun. But these were no ordinary peashooters.

"Load the jelly." said Joe. Ha haa!! The new secret weapon;
Jelly-shooters.

The Texes began scooping in different flavours. Joe heard the
reply

"jelly-shooters loaded."

A total of fifty nine times. He nodded to his waiting
donkey.

"Okay, TF. Go! Go! Go!" Joe turned to the Tex nearest to him.
"Nothing's going to go wrong!"

T MINUS FIVE SECONDS

The Golightly Gang was just about to consign Little Petal to her watery
future when Rick spotted Two Feathers stepping out from behind the
rocks and strutting about like a peacock.

"I recognise that girly peenk hat and those naff cIothes anywhere.
Eet's Two Feathers deesquised as 'Fargo' Joe."

"That's deesgusteeng!" exclaimed Doug.

Rick snarled at his brothers, "Get heem! "

But just as Doug and Russell prepared to give chase, a loud and fruity
sneeze echoed around the ravine.

"AHHHHHHHHTIIIIIIISHHHHHOOOOO!!!"

The dribble hit the rocks in front of Joe and ricocheted back in their
faces. SPLAT!!. Instantly, the fifty-nine riders of The Donkey Dispatch
Service all called Tex leapt into action. They hurdled the rocks and
fired their jelly-shooters.

The Golightly Gang were delighted. "Raspberry!" screamed Doug.

"Strawberry!" screeched Rick.

"Cabbage!" shrieked Russ. They surrendered at once.

Then Joe manfully leapt over and landed near Little Petal. He gave her
a smart salute and turned to The Golightly Gang.

"Hi there boys. Still weighing your usual eighty tons?" he asked.

"Yes, we are!" uttered Russell.

Rick nudged him. U Shut up!"

"This is the end of your evil plan, O fat ones!" said Joe as he untied
the rope from around Little Petal. He then ran up to Rick, Doug and
Russ and puffed out his little chest at them. Everyone watched in
astonishment as Joe performed some skilful karate moves.

"Yee Hah! Eeeee! Eeeee! Ya! Hoo! Hah! Ya!" Suddenly his novelty pen
grenade fell to the floor.

Little Petal screamed and promptly fainted. So too did Dangerous Doug,
Slightly Careless Russell, Two Feathers, all the fifty-nine riders of
the Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex and their donkeys.

"It's only a pen!" cried Joe.

Seeing instantly the perfect opportunity to escape, Reckless Rick, who
also owned a novelty grenade pen, so the sight of one had no effect on
him, collected Little Petal, his two double-treble chinned brothers and
the three obesity resistant mopeds and tottered away.

Two Feathers was the first to regain consciousness and wasted no time
in reporting to his master. Joe climbed aboard the donkey and gave a
loud "YAAA HOOO!" and shot off in hot pursuit of the Enormous Greasy
Golightly Gang.

Meanwhile, the DitititiKaka braves were two miles away from Arrowhead
Creek and approaching fast. Big Chief Running Tapp looked at his
wrist-sundial.

"Thirty minute to sundown." He swivelled around to his men. "Onward,
brave warriors!"

Joe and his donkey were closing in on Reckless Rick and the mighty load
on his back. "Get me nearer TF!"

Two Feathers swerved towards Rick and Joe jabbed the nib of his novelty
grenade pen into Rick's bottom.

"Yeekkkekekekkk!!" shrieked Rick as he clasped his hindquarters in
agony. This caused Little Petal, Dangerous Doug, Slightly Careless
Russell and the three obesity resistant mopeds to fly into the
air.

Joe leaned out and caught the Chief's daughter and rode on while the
rest of Rick's baggage hit the ground with a hefty crump.

As The Golightly Gang struggled to their feet they watched 'Fargo' Joe
ride
off into the settiing sun.

"He's taking our hostage!" whined Russ. "That's kidnapping!"

The three crooks heard the rumble of donkey hooves and glanced behind
them. They were stunned at what they saw. It was the fifty-nine riders
of the Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex heading straight toward
them.

The Golightly Gang wasted no time. They clambered onto their obesity
resistant mopeds and sped off after Joe.

"Faster! Faster!" cried Joe with one eye on his watch, one eye on the
setting sun and another on the donkey's speedometer.

The race to Arrowhead Creek was on! The tribal warriors of the
DitititiKaka were heading for the creek from one direction, while the
fifty nine riders of the Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex, who
were in pursuit of The Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang, who, in turn,
were chasing 'Fargo' Joe and Little
Petal, were fast approaching from the opposite direction.

And little did any of them know that they were all on a collision
course.

"Come on, Moped! Faster! Faster!" roared Reckless Rick as smoke started
to rise from the tyres.

"Come on Ethel' Faster! Faster!" yelled Running Tapp as smoke started
to rise from the horse's hooves.

"Come on, Feathers! Faster! Faster!" hollered 'Fargo' Joe as smoke
started to rise from his ears.

In the main street, a small group of citizens congregated and watched
the oncoming assault of the DitititiKaka warriors.

"We'll all be murdered in our beds!" wailed Mrs Ditch.

"Then let's stay up orl noight!" insisted Father Guffer.

A paper bag covered Rickety Old Bob appeared. "Ah can't die! I'm too
young!"
It was then that the group turned around to witness Joe and the others
almost a hundred yards away and closing fast.

"Oh no!" shrieked Reg Murphy. "We're gonna be the filling in a horse
and donkey sandwich!"

"This is Tom MacCrackken here outside the saloon and I'm going to hand
you over to Greg Fairbreeze, Arrowhead Creek FM's very own racing
commentator."

"And they're off! On the outside are the tribal warriors of the
DitititiKaka Indians, Big Chief Running Tapp leading the way on Ethel
his mighty steed at seven to one on, with BeBop A Lula holding up their
rear as the rank outsider and dressed as a tomato. On the rails, the
clear leader is 'Fargo' Joe on Two Feathers with Little Petal in his
arms and behind them its The Enormous Greasy Goliyhtly Gang, six to
four favourites. Followed by the fifty nine riders
of the Donkey Dispatch Service all called Tex.

The DitititiKaka braves are beginning to make their move now coming
through on the inside.

It's the braves and 'Fargo' Joe neck and neck as they approach
the final bend, the braves and 'Fargo' Joe, now only feet away, on a
collision course. AND IT'S!!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!

When the cloud of dust settled, all that could be seen was a tangled
mass of Indians, horses, donkeys, donkey dispatch riders and drivers
airbags.

A messed up mixture of goodies and baddies. Joe was at the bottom of
the pile but, with great difficulty, he managed to crawl out from the
crumpled bodies. He found Little Petal and pulled her clear of the
wreckage.

"Wow! That was funky!" she said rubbing her head. Noticing Joe standing
beside her, she smiled. "Hi there, Short legs."

From the pile behind them could be heard several moans and groans, the
loudest of which came from Running Tapp.

"Flippin' roadworks!" he blustered to himself. But he found his feet
and stood up. He saw his daughter with Joe and seemed baffled.

"What you doing, cuddling man who wears only vest and
underpants?"

Little Petal strolled over to her father. "Give me a break, old man."
She broke into a smile and gave Tapp a huge hug. "Hi ya, Daddy!"

"Thought I'd never see you again." said Tapp with tears in his eyes,
which was usually the best place for them.
"Did ya miss me?" asked Petal.

"Yes. Had no one to cut toe nails." replied Tapp.

At that moment, Sheriff Waggonwheel appeared

"Nee Nor nee nor nee nor!" he wailed.

Several of the Texes had pulled each Golightly brother to their
feet.

"Rick, Doug and Russell Golightly - I'm arresting you for kidnapping
and generally being naughty." he said as he slapped the special extra
large
Golightly style handcuffs, ,special offer nine ninety nine in all good
handcuff shops, on their wrists. "Off to Jaily waily!"

Everyone took turns in congratulating Joe, including Mrs Ditch.

"Yer've truly saved Arrowhead Creek. I think I'll bake you another
cake."

"And if you hadn't have saved Arrowhead Creek," whispered Rickety Old
Bob, "she'd bake you two cakes!"

The Donkey Dispatch Service slowly hobbled away from the scene as the
Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang were escorted to the gaol and the
citizens of the creek went about their business as usual.

"Daughter say you save her life." said Running Tapp to Joe.

"Well..." Joe was modest.

"Daughter say you were heap brave."

Two Feathers nodded his head.

Tapp looked Joe up and down. "Nice vest. You get that from
a.catalogue?"

Then Tapp took a deep breath, clenched his face, braced himself,
screwed up his eyes, rolled up his trousers, stood on his nose and
said;

"Thank you, Short legs."

And, as Tapp turned and signalled for his warriors to leave, Little
Petal turned to Joe and smiled.

"You know, you're quite brave. For a small person." She bent down and
kissed him. Joe went all gooey.

As Petal walked away to join her father, she turned back to Joe and
said "Let's do dinner. Do you like Indian?"

Joe nodded and watched Little Petal disappear into the distance until
she was no bigger than a speck of dust in a vast bowl of sand.

NINETEEN

The mighty treetrunk legs of Ma Golightly marched purposefully along
the corridor of the Arrowhead Creek gaol. Puffing on a cigar, she was
led by Sheriff Waggonwheel to the Golightly Gang's cell. When she
arrived Rick, Doug and Russ almost wet themselves with fear.

"Don't let her een!!" they all begged.

Waggonwheel smiled, rattled his keys and unlocked the cell door. The
Enormous Greasy Golightly Gang, huge and violent they were, trembled as
the lumbering figure of Ma stepped in. But to their amazement Ma seemed
dreadfully upset.

"Oh my babies," she stuttered tearfully, "how
shall I cope now you're in prison?" she sobbed bitterly.

The gang huddled around the expansive bulk of their mother.

"We still love you Ma." said Doug.

Russell could not help but notice a large pie shaped object in Ma's
shopping bag.

"What's that Ma?" he pointed at the basket. Ma pulled out the pie
shaped object. Sure enough, it was a pie. A lard pie. A large lard pie.
With lard filling and decorative lard crust.

"Does eet have a file een eet that we can use
to escape?" slobbered Rick.

Ma shook her enormous head. "No." And with that, she slammed her fist
right into the centre of the pie, sending great splodges of lard
splattering onto the walls.

Inside the pie was a long, metal baseball bat.

The gang tried to duck, but Ma was just too quick. In one swift
movement she hit them about the head forty eight times.

"How will I survive the long evenings without being able to beat you to
a pulp?"

TWENTY

That evening Rickety Old Bob and 'Fargo' Joe along with Two Feathers
and Lightening sat on the oldest front porch in America and watched the
evening sun slowly set.

"Well," said Joe "all's well that ends well."

"Yup." agreed Bob. "The Donkey Dispatch service is a big success,
there's good relations between us and the Indians, The Golightly Gang
got what they deserved, Be Bop A Lull and his tomato costume won the
fancy dress competition and you were declared a hero and paid the one
thousand dollar
reward."

"Yes." said Joe. "And what did I do with that reward?"

"Why, Joe," chuckled Rickety Old Bob with delight, "you walked straight
into the nearest beard shop and bought me the longest, widest, fattest
and hairiest specimen they had!"

Joe shrugged. "It's just a shame they didn't have one in your
colour.".

"That's okay Joe. I think green suits me."

"Yes, all is well in Arrowhead Creek." said Joe, proudly. "And what's
more, you've stopped pretending to be a radio DJ."

"I sure have!". Bob turned to face Feathers and Lightening,

'Well, RADIO WRINKLE is closing down for the night. This is Rickety Old
Bob saying sleep easy now and don' t forget to turn off your radios
before
you go to bed. Good night all!"
.
THE END