Saturday, November 4, 2017

"HOW THE WEST WAS WON" (Comedy Series) By Mort Harris


      The year was 1848. The American West teamed with hostile Indians. As more settlers moved out West, terror attacks became more frequent. The terrorists would attack wagon trains and burn down ranch houses. The President, in desperation called upon Stephen Gold, the Secretary of State.

      "We have a serious problem with terrorism in this country" said the President. "The Indians are attacking us indiscriminately. We have information that they are stealing herds of woman raping our cattle."

     "Sir" asked Gold, "could the report be in error?"

     "Never" thundered the President. "Our intelligence is indisputable, worse than that, the Indians have resorted to suicide knifing." 

     Gold was shocked, "Suicide knifing?"

     "Yes" said the President. "Terrorists are attacking saloons, they knife a few people and then stab themselves to death."

     "Insane fanatics," said Gold.

     "What's wrong with those Indians?"  questioned the President. "Haven't we been generous with them?"

     "I think that they are a little upset about us being on their land and slaughtering their Buffalo." said Gold.

    "Nonsense." the President answered. "It's those wild extremists, the Redskin Supremacists." He grabbed Gold by the shoulders, "Gold, you are and expert on the far West. I need you to go and check out the tribes. We have received reports that they are preparing for more attacks. More importantly, it is rumored that they are compiling arrows of mass destruction."

     Gold asked, "Have you intercepted any vital messages between the tribes?"

     "Only one, when we broke their smoke signal code."

     "What did it say?"

     "Yankee go home" reported the President. " Those inconsiderate heathens."

    "Ungrateful savages" echoed Gold.

    The President  slammed his fist against his desk. "We have got to have more rigid immigration laws. The Indian act as if it were their land." Gold nodded in agreement. 

     "One more thing Gold, when you're out West find out what we can do to lure more settlers out there. I'll send a large army with you as a peace measure, of course."

     Months later, after Gold's futile search for arrows of mass destruction, he wrote to the President.

             Dear Mr. President,

                  I picked up some pretty trinkets and a great buy on a blanket. We had a pow-wow and I found the tribes were not open to our kind of democracy. They want to thank you for the gifts of whiskey.
                  Stephen (One Braid) Gold

     Toward the end of his trip, Gold found himself in Sutter's Mill, California. As he crossed  the muddy street he was struck by a speeding stagecoach. People gathered around his injured body.

     "Who is that?" they asked.

     "That's Gold" was the answer.
     "What happened to him?" another queried.
     "He was struck by a stagecoach" was the answer.
     Word started spreading through the town. "They struck gold."
    "Sutter's Mill."

      The Pony Express spread the news all the way to Missouri. "They struck gold in California."

      The excitement spread by telegraph to Philadelphia, New York,

and Boston. Thousands of people stampeded out west to seek their fortune.

     Upon his return, Gold was met by the President in the Oval Office. Gold was swathed in bandages, leaning on a crutch with splints on his arms and legs. The President pinned a medal on the cast that covered Gold's chest. Gold tried to salute, but the pain was too intense.  As the President heaped praises on Gold, he said, "You have exceeded my expectations. You not only pacified the Indians with whiskey, you found an ingenious way to get our people to go  West. 

     "Sir, the people of this nation are lucky to have a man such as you as President."

     "I know" he continued, "I sent my best General and more troops to suppress the Indian uprising."

     Months later, General Custer stood proudly on a hill top waving the flag of the 27th Cavalry and shouted for all to hear,  "I will stop those Indians if it's the last thing I do."


Copyright 2017 Summerlin's Writers and Poets Workshop - Las Vegas, NV.

Our author Mort Harris
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