Botchaluna!

“Try to think out of the box here David,” Bop said. “You’re not in Kansas anymore he said with a chuckle.” Presumably a reference to the Wizard of Oz film. My guide gestured, pointing to his head and said, “This is the inverse-reverse world of yours. Everything that is valuable there is virtually worthless here, or worthwhile on a different level. “Well here we are,” Bop said. “What am I doing now?” I asked. “You are going on a taxi ride to get a better idea of the size of Nowhere, how its laid out, some of the people and places here, I’m sure you’ll have an enlightening tour. Enjoy your excursion!” Bop said with a huge smile as he shook my hand and patted me on the back. “When you get back, we will all go to breakfast, I’m sure the Judge will have a better idea of what you’ll be doing here by then.” I climbed into the back of a Yellow Cab 2003 Ford Police Interceptor, as a person of obvious Arabic descent welcomed me onboard. No sooner had I closed the door, Bailiff Hoggelmann patted the roof with his paw then my notice of the scent of armor-all was quickly replaced by absolute shock as my gut shot straight into my throat. The driver had floorboarded the ex- police car laying rubber for a quarter of a mile as I slid back into the seat as much as humanly possible, somehow knowing this would be a ride unlike anything I’d ever been on before. Bop bebopped his way back into the courthouse whistling Dixie as a giant Confederate States of America flag fluttered in the wind on a beautiful sunny day. He waived at me as my taxi shot up 3rd street well over 90 mph. I thought the Confederate flag looked funny as all the stars on it were Stars of David. Hanging a fast left up Orwell Avenue made the huge car slide, causing me to quickly lose my train of thought as elsewhere, things also became interesting. “Oh, there you are Mr. Bop, uh, BR what did you do with the big boy?” Judge Hoggelmann inquired. “I put him in a taxi and sent him on an excursion about town.” Bop said as he was looking down the barrel of his service revolver lackadaisically. “Uh, you do know that thing will put a hole clean through your forehead and straight out ya medulla oblongata right?” the Judge said. “Just making sure its not got one in the barrel!” with that the heavyset rodent proceeded to reholster his sidearm and in the process discharged a bullet right through his right duty dress shoes, taking the tip off of one of his claws. The careless cavy did not lose a digit, but did dance a strange dance in front of the Judge’s bench. The Judge was not amused and in a detached, but clearly annoyed voice said “Ok funny boy, 24 hours no sidearm. Give me the god damn thing and do NOT point it at me!” the Judge commanded. After securing Bop’s weapon, the Judge further inquired “Did you send the big boy out with Harvey Stone, right? You know the elderly gentleman who knows everything & everybody in this here county.” “Nope, I sent him out with that new guy. Remember we got that diversity decree that said we should start spreading the work around more equally, regardless of a workers ability.” Bop answered with a genuine look of confusion. “Wait a minute here, are you telling me all that there tire squealing I’m hearing is from you putting him in that there cab with that Arab boy, whats his name- Ata?” the Judge said with a concerned expression on his face. “No,” Bop confidently responded, “MOHAMMED Ata is the driver’s name.” The Judge looked out bug eyed from his desk at Bop and said “BR, that there is the fellow who flew a Boeing 767 into the side of the World Trade Center back in 01. You might want to consider facts like that BEFORE you just jam a new roamer in a cab for his first guided ride about town!”