Sourdough dogwhistled into the night and cowboys’ heads snapped to attention. “This Special Session of the Ol’ Campfire Caucus will come to order,” he growled.
“Hey, wait,” objected Latigo Lou from Lingle, “why do we need a special session? I can smell beans a’cookin’ an’ I’m hungry. Cain’t this wait?”
“Overruled!” snarled Sourdough, “We need to strike while the iron’s hot.” The rank and file cowboys were not pleased, but decided to play along.
Sourdough plowed ahead. “Too many ol’ folks is dyin’ o’ Natural Causes.” He pounded his fist in the air for emphasis. “We all know them senior citizens eat more beef than young hipsters, an’ them idjits in Warshington Dee Cee is lettin’ ‘em die like flies.”
He scanned the faces in the campfire light. “Them commies is tryin’ to kill our industry by lettin’ our customers die, an its up to us to stop ‘em.”
Sourdough’s harsh words against authority instilled a righteous outrage in his chap-wearing and spurred confreres. He had them riled up and itching for action.
“Sourdough might be right.” offered the Kaycee Kid, “My granddaddy died of N.C. er, ah, I mean Natural Causes when he was ninety, an’ the family still mourns. Somethin’ needs to be done.”
Stetsons nodded in the campfire smoke. “N.C. has killed folks in my family, too.” said Panhandle. “Its America’s silent killer, an’ them politicians are just sittin’ on their hands.”
Murmurs around the ol’ campfire of “This aggression will not stand” and “N.C. was made in a Chinese lab.”
Sourdough silenced the throng with a stern glance. “That’s why this special session is necessary. Steps must be taken or we’re all out of a job.”
There followed a susurrous whisper of heads being scratched among the encircled brushpoppers.
“I know,” interjected Joe the Wrangler, “we can get the Big Boss to sue ‘em all. Congress, China, N.C, Hollywood. and George Soros, all them leftist sonsabitches need their asses hauled into court.”
“Or we can make it illegal for anyone to die before they have eaten their allotment of hamburgers.” This from Rawhide Ricky from Rawlins. “If grandpa dies before he has fulfilled his duty to the beef industry, his family has to pay us a ton o’ money.”
Doc from Dubois rose to his feet. “We can pass a law for mandatory life support if someone is close to croakin’. Hook ‘em up to wires for a few extra years, an’ feed ‘em intravenous ribeyes. That oughta work, and it should show up on our bottom line.”
More suggestions issued from the smoke.
“Make tofu , avocado toast and sushi illegal. Force the young ‘uns to eat beef.” And, “How ‘bout a social media campaign convincin’ folks that death is bad for yer health.”
“Yeah,” jested the Trail Boss, “Y’all could dress up like hipsters with skinny jeans an’ Open Roads an’ have a telethon to raise awareness about the threat of N.C. Hell, I’d watch that.”
Back and forth the debate went, with varying degrees of intelligence displayed. Like Sisyphus rolling his boulder uphill, the cowboys’ Stetsons were repeatedly crushed by its weight when it came rolling back down on them.
Before the discussion could descend into political chaos, and the bounds of logic further violated, Cookie broke the mood by banging on his skillet and announcing that supper was burning and it would be served in whatever condition the cowboys found it.
It was moved and seconded that the Special Session of the Ol’ Campfire Caucus would be adjourned “sine die." The motion carried.
Rod Miller can be reached at: rodsmillerwyo@yahoo.com
