Rio Loco by Robert J. Conley Page A

so,” said Dingle. “It sure sounds surreal to me.”
    â€œSurreal,” I said, and I said it over and over on account a’ I wanted to remember it. I liked gettingnew words from Dingle. That was half the fun a’ keeping him around, although it weren’t bad to make money off a’ him and his books, the ones what he writ about me and my adventures. I figgered he was a-working on another one right then.
    Then I decided that we was all of us in the middle of a goddamned surreal situation. There was Owl Shit in jail for doing a dumb killing, and his dumb brother, Chugwater, trying like hell to bust him out. Then there was pieces a’ dead men all over the street. It was all pretty damn surreal as far as I could tell.

Chapter Ten
    Well, nothing much happened for the next couple a’ days, and it was a damn good thing too, on account a’ my neck begun to hurt like hell. I had been shot before, a’ course, but it never did hurt me like that goddamn nick in my neck hurt. I couldn’t think a’ nothing for a time except only that I wanted a drink a’ good whiskey, and I had me a good many a’ those. The guys and gals all hung around the jailhouse and kept a watch out for any a’ Chugwater’s bunch what might show up, but none of them did. I final got to thinking about the mess we was in, and the first thing I thunk about was why in the hell I was so damn determined to hang on to that damned Owl Shit. I couldn’t come up with nothing. He sure as hell weren’t worth me getting my own self or any a’ my friends and ‘special my sweet Bonnie big tits kilt over. So why in the hell didn’t I just let ole Chugwater have the little shit? I couldn’t hardly answer that damn nagging question.
    I sure weren’t one for upholding the dignity a’ my office at all costs. No, sir. I didn’t have no suchscruples, so it weren’t that. Were it my own personal pride and puffed-upness? The little asshole had shot a man dead right in front a’ me and a dozen or two witnesses. I had to hold him in jail to keep the respect a’ all the folks in town. If I was to let a goddamn murderous bastard like that just walk away, why, they’d all just commence to doing whatever the hell it was they wanted to do, thumbing their noses at me. I couldn’t have that. Maybe that was the reason. Maybe.
    Then it come to me that ole Dingle had been a-writing all them books about me, about what a goddamn staunch upholder a’ the law I was and how I could handle any damn situation. It come to me that maybe I was a-trying to live up to the image what Dingle had created. They was a whole bunch a’ people out there somewheres a-reading them books. Well, hell, whatever. The whole truth a’ the matter was that I just for damn sure meant to hold on to Owl Shit for as long as it was necessary. I weren’t about to give in to Chugwater. No way.
    Bonnie come into the cell where I was a-laying and drinking and thinking. She set down on the cot beside a’ me, even though there was barely room for her fat ass. She just kinda perched one cheek on the cot. It musta been a kind a’ strain on her to set thattaway, but she done it on account a’ she loved my ass so much. She petted on me and cooed around and called me sweet names and tole me how proud a’ me she was and how much she was a-wishing that I’d get to feeling a wholelot better real damn soon. I surely did enjoy that too, I can tell you.
    I seen Happy out in the office walk over to the coffeepot for a cup a’ the hot stuff, and I yelled out at him. “Happy, is Butcher up on the roof?”
    â€œYes, sir, he is.”
    â€œGood,” I said. Happy come a-walking into the cell.
    â€œBarjack,” he said, “do you think we need to keep this up?”
    â€œThis what?” I ast him.
    â€œYou know. Keeping us all in here all the time. Chugwater’s men