As Mr. Newscent begins to talk, saying such things as “How’s that leg doing?” and I reply, “Not bad, thank you, sir,” and he continues, “You don’t have to ‘sir’ me, I’m just a guitar player, call me Ted,” and as our conversation continues forth, I begin to notice a few details in this new environment, the most noteworthy of which is the ceiling of the saloon.
It is a regular flat ceiling, kinda dark, but centrally located there be a sizable dome, artistically & brilliantly designed to resemble the inside of a bird cage with a sky-blue background. Up there in the dome, hanging in midair, there be a large perch a hanging, and on which is standing a colorfully-painted sculpture of a bold & fearsome Bald Eagle. The effect is quite beautiful and creates a down-home patriotic air to the place.
I suspect as Ted & I talk along we are actually bonding. “Yes, Ted, to support laws that force us to be unarmed & defenseless would certainly be sheeplike.”
“Extremely so,” says my new rock n’ roll friend, plucking a few strings on his guitar. “That kind of equality is for sheep. Be better or get sheered!”
“Well of course, Ted. That makes some sense alright.”
“What’s yer handle?”
“Rawclyde! That’s with an exclamation mark.”
“Glad to meet you, bro!” He holds out his paw ~ and squeezes mine in a vice-like grip. He’s grinning of course. “Did you say Raw Slide?”
Meanwhile, Wayne Peeintheair twirls around on his stool and orders a drink. He taps with his fingers the counter, which is wood lacquered & polished to an extreme glare. When he finally gets whatever he ordered, he raises the frosty glass into the air with a keen bravado & baritones, “What stops a bad man with a gun?”
“A good man with a gun!” shouts forth in gleeful reply everybody at the bar, which includes some “Iron Brotherhood” bikers. They all laugh & drink-up ~ and play around with open rucksacks & briefcases on the counter ~ sacks & cases full of happy clicking & clinking gunware.
As time passes, Peeintheair repeats this favorite refrain of his over & over again, always answered in enthusiastic chorus by those around him. Even Newscent bellows forth in this coddling of the famous NRA spokesman. There at the bar, semi-automatic rifle congomerations get snapped & twisted into all kinds of outlandish configurations ~ constructed from simple pistols. When one spider-like weapon gets completed, it is raised in the air & “hoorah!”s are shouted.
I absolutely do not know what is going on here. Are these happy-go-lucky men celebrating Wayne Peeintheair’s birthday? Does anybody here, besides me, know about his sinister clown activities sneeking out & in the saloon backdoor? One thought that flashes through my perplexity is that Peeintheair is in the middle of a full fledged nervous breakdown & his friends are trying to get him to “blow it out of the water” so that he can return to “normal” sometime soon…