Kind Of A Cowboy Story

 

    “Hey Dog! Maurice!  Are you awake?” hissed Ralph, looming in the dark.

    “Wake up, man, I have an idea!” Ralph nudged Maurice with his foot, standing way back out of reach.
    There was a sharp intake of breath down by the embers of the fire from a few hours earlier in the evening.
    “So, Ah, Ralph. I was asleep,” mentioned Maurice, offhandedly, or maybe menacingly. (You guys remember Maurice, he’s that Ozark Whatchamacallit Dogboy guy who was riding the rails.)
    “What do you want Ralph?” said Maurice down in the darkness, near the firepit.
    “I want you to wake the heck up and listen to me, Maurice,” whispered Ralph. “I got a great idea while I was sleeping!”
    “Oh, those are the best!” said Maurice, sitting up on his haunches and giving up on the sweet dream of going back to sleep. He sighed. He considered biting Ralph and decided that was too much like work and just listened for the big idea to come rolling out.
    “You like Dinty Moore beef stew, right? So do I! And I know where a whole truck load of it is.  Totally just sitting unguarded!,” chortled Ralph.  Apparently Ramona’s dinner hadn’t hit the spot.
    “Yeah, OK,” said Maurice getting a little more interested.
    “There is a whole truckload of the stuff from the distributor sitting in a truck outside a driver’s house down in Darrington. Maeve told me she heard he’s taking it to Safeway tomorrow. I don’t know why.  Maybe she likes it too! I bet we could go down there and fill a bag with cans and beat it back up here before morning!”
    Maurice could see how this was going. He got ready to go to Darrington in the middle of the night.  “Why not?” he thought. “What are friends for, if not to get into a horrible mess together?”
    It was 3:00AM when the pair got to Darrington. As promised there was the truck parked harmlessly in front of a small wooden house near downtown. Well, downtown Darrington isn’t much, no matter. It was still dark and a little rainy.
    Both of them carried burlap bags.
    Ralph broke the lock on the back of the truck, easily. He was too big to hop up inside, so Maurice got up inside and started throwing cans down to Ralph who stashed them in the two bags.  It was going great.  Everything they hoped for.
    That was until Darrington’s one sleepy graveyard shift cop got a call from the driver’s wife who happened to be up at 3:20AM and glanced out of her kitchen window.
    The poor kid, he was like 23 years old and rather slender and short. He drove over there to take a look.  He didn’t really believe her description of the thieves, but he was bored and sleepy, so he went.
    His name was Bob. Officer Bob parked and walked over to the scene at the back of the truck. Well, how could he believe his eyes? But, manfully, he told Ralph and Maurice that they were, at this point, under arrest. Poor Bob.
    Ralph put his forefinger up to his lips, winked at Bob, and said, “shhhhhh, you’ll wake the street! We’re leaving now.  You know, no one will believe you!”     What could Bob do?  He did nothing. He watched them go.
    Ralph and Maurice, those larcenous creatures, hefted a sack of Dinty Moore beef stew cans each and headed back into the forest for the long walk back up to the cave. They giggled the whole way back.
    When Ramona woke they were sitting harmlessly by a newly fed fire eating stew out of cans. She gave Ralph one of those looks. But she didn’t say a word.
    Ramona wasn’t born yesterday, and she didn’t roll off of a turnip truck either, as a matter of fact.