I never enjoy these stories that involve the ‘Rules Committee’ and I’m always reluctant to reveal what is almost always bad behavior. Nevertheless I’m honor bound to decry truth as I see it. In what first appeared to be the normal staccato of radiator pipes turned out to be the crepitated outbursts of Cush the official driver and ‘shop steward’ for the ‘Diatribe.’ I’ll always remember our very own Cush as one of the more talented committee members as he learned to whistle through his ass using a modified chromatic scale. This of course was a tremendous source of pride to him and his family. God rest his soul.
We lost one of our own over the weekend. Cush fatefully went on a camping trip with his two sons whom we’ll call ‘Skidder’ and ‘Murphy’ to protect their identities. As are most, a family’s genetic pool often presents surprising similarities between parent and child. While there was some speculation as to who actually ‘fathered’ Cush’s boys, but his family was no different! I have a reasonably reliable source who said Skidder has the propensity for arson! I found this to be hilarious given Cush was the original Hephaestus the Greek ‘Blacksmith’ to the God’s and still remains the only person to ever light a fire with his face!
Evidently Skidder was responsible for burning down Murphy’s tent. As I heard the story, there was a drunken altercation spawned from a dead vaporizer battery. Each accused the other of spacing it out leaving it behind which ultimately led to a fist fight. Murphy was taking it to Skidder pretty good but before Cush could break it up a beautiful pine tree exploded into flames from what was left of Murphy’s tent.
Real panic ensued.
Being a former military man Cush took charge and immediately formed a bucket brigade. Skidder dipped a bucket into the nearby lake then ran it to Murphy who found his dad who then strategically tossed the water on the flames. Unfortunately though, it wasn’t fast enough to stop the flames that continued to spread.
By now a dozen trees were ablaze and spreading quickly. Sirens could be heard in the distance assuring Cush that help was on the way. But in his own mind Cush believed his ‘Johnson’ was actually a fire hose, so in his besotted state whipped it out and began to piss on the fire but only managed to singe his pubic hair creating a foul odor in his pants.
The fire was officially out of control.
Thankfully the fire fighters showed and quickly surrounded the blaze putting it out within twenty minutes! Cush not wanting his young sons to have ‘Arson’ on their future rap sheets and being a good father in general stepped up and took blame for the fire. Much to his chagrin though he was immediately arrested. The Forestry Service doesn’t fuck around with ‘tree burners.’ Not long after, the call came into Blondie’s for help. The boys were unable to raise the $100,000 bond and asked if we’d pass the hat. The generous patrons of Blondie’s ponied up $16.43 obviously woefully short. With no other options the boys were forced to leave their father confined in the Summit County Jail to await trial.
The brand new Summit County Annex housed the courtroom and was a beautiful building utilizing the log cabin look that’s so popular with us mountain folk. It also represented Cush’s best chance to escape. Cush schooled his sons well in the art of accelerants to effectively and quickly take down a building. Skidder quietly doused the stairs knowing both stories would be engulfed in a matter of minutes. Murphy set the timed electronic switches wired to small amounts of C-4 at structural points in the building to hopefully collapse the section leading from the holding cell to the courtroom.
It was impossible to see amid the smoke and flames adding volume to the panicked screams coming from everywhere! With faces painted in camouflage Skidder and Murphy rushed inside looking for poor Dad but had a difficult time finding him in the debris. Finally, a torn Teamster jacket led the way to the ole’ man. Utter joy was replaced by profound grief when sadly the boys found Cush’s lifeless body. Fittingly he’d been decapitated by a fallen cross-beam. The force of it threw the severed head atop the courtroom bench directly into the lap of Judge Metzenbaum eyes still bulging wildly. Yes sir, like they say, “The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
Given the ugly nature of Cush’s death there’ll be a closed casket memorial this Saturday at Blondie’s from 1:00 PM through 6:00 PM featuring $2 Jägermeister shots in Cush’s honor. Please respect the “missing stool” formation at “Curmudgeon Corner”