Sheriff Walter Wheatley was sitting in a rocking chair on Gunderson’s porch, staring out at the cornfield. Tuscadero stood, ramrod straight, sipping a cup of cowboy coffee from a mug emblazoned with the words ‘Farmers do it in the Field’. “So, any thoughts deputy?” the sheriff asked. “Not really,” Tuscadero said. He assumed that the sheriff meant a thought other than, ‘wow nice work kids.’ The owl crop circle was large. Tuscadero was certain it had taken a great deal of planning to execute. Not to mention the fact that it had been accomplished in such a short period of time. The best view of the mischief maker’s handiwork was from the widow’s walk on the roof. The second the sheriff and Tuscadero had stepped out on that walk and looked out at the cornfields, they had 2 large, round eyes looking right back at them. “Nothing?” Tuscadero sighed. “I’m stumped.” He wasn’t really, but no sense in ruining it for everyone. He surveyed the cornfield with an impassive look. His calm demeanor in the wake of such nonsensical violence irritated the Sheriff. “Sweet fancy Moses Tuscadero, why do I bring you along? You are more useless than a jackrabbit with an animal trainer.” he said. Pounding the rubber tip of his cane down. “I wouldn’t know about that sir,” Tuscadero said. “Of course you wouldn’t. You city folk don’t know hide nor tail of common sense,” he said rising to his feet.
Posted on: Wed, 11 Sep 2013 14:30:34 +0000