The Walking 'Federates

Chapter 1: Swing ah' Things

Dougal County, GA

A sheriff and a deputy sit idly in a parked patrol car.

"I just don't get it, Denny!", the sheriff shrugged at his partner.

The deputy had a puzzled look on his face, "What's not to get?"

    "If pee comes from the testicles, then how on earth do women pee? It just doesn't make any sense.", the sheriff grazed his forehead with his hand.

    "Out their buttholes. Duh. It's just science, man.", the deputy rolled his eyes, resting his feet up on the dash.

"So does that mean pee is actually stored in the butthole?", the sheriff raised an eyebrow.

"If yous a woman, yes", the deputy tapped some ash off his cigarette.

    "Ain't milk stored in the butt, though? And I coulda sworn women peed out their...out the other part."

    "Out their 'ginas? That's crazy talk, man", Denny shook his head, "Everybody knows that pee is stored in the balls, and stored in the butthole if yous a lady. How many times I gotta remind ya?"

    "I know, I know. Sorry I bug you about it so much. You're just so experienced with the ladies, heh, I don't know who else to ask."

The deputy sighed, taking another hit from his cigarette.

The sheriff cleared his throat, "Ahem, so, uh...how do squids pee?"

     Denny scowled, about to call the sheriff an expletive before he was cut off by the sound of gunshots in the distance.

     "That must be Early. Quick, Denny, put on the siren!", the sheriff shifted gears, and hauled off towards the source of the blasts.

     The police car wailed, speeding down main street and skidding to a halt in front of Boyd's convenience store. Early's drunken threats could be heard from the outside, popping off rounds as he brandished his sawed-off shotgun.

     "I done told you, sumbitch! Gimme one them Kenny Rogers live concert vidya tape playin' machines before I shoot'cha damn head off!", the squid yelled, motioning his shotgun to the DVD players stacked atop one of the shelves.

     The elderly shopkeeper trembled behind the counter. "A-Alright Early, just- just tell me which color you want it in. See we've got, uh, let's see here...", Boyd turned to the shelf, seeing which colors they had, "We've got 'em in, uh, pink, bl-"

     "PINK?! What'chu tryna say, Boyd? You implifying that I'm sum sorta hom-er-sexual? Is that it? Cause I'll shoot'chu right now god dammit!"

     The shopkeeper squeezed his eyes shut and winced in fear, "No! No! N-Not at all, Early! I-I didn't mean n-".

     The sheriff moseyed into the store ready to arrest Early, cuffs in hand. Upon stepping through the door, Early swung around, now pointing the firearm at the sheriff.

"Come on, Early", the sheriff held up the handcuffs, "You know the drill-"

A blast went off. Early had shot the sheriff, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his torso.

     Everything went black for the sheriff. The next thing he knew, he was wired up to one of the clinic beds, waking up from a brief coma.

He glanced around the empty room.

"Hell-Hello? Doctor?"

     A vase sitting on the bedside table caught his eye. A bouquet of wilted flowers. The attached card read as follows: