Lion and the Green Fedtid Water
Woody walked back to the eastern end of the Courthouse and left through the large back door. He rounded the street corner walking on the southside of the Courthouse. A vermilion brick esplanade had been constructed, perhaps fifteen paces by fifteen paces. As he walked up the steps from the sidewalk, he came to a fountain and a small pond six inches deep. Behind the fountain and the pond was a large white marble monument about ten feet high with the name of the police jurors, architect, and contractor, all of whom had directed the construction of the Courthouse. At its base was a lion’s head and from its mouth spewed green fetid water. The warm sultry air of the Louisiana summer had transformed the re-circulated pond water from crystal clear to a green soupy mass inhabited by gold fish, released by the town’s children. Woody studied the names and the dates on the monument with his back to the street. He turned when he heard his name called and looked at his watch. It was high noon.
Minos LeBouef was walking up the steps to the esplanade carrying a paper bag from a butcher shop. “Woody, its too damn hot to be out here. How come we don’t go in my office?” said the Sheriff.
“Because Hargrave might be sneaking around like a skunk and try to piss on me.”
“Leave Hargrave out of this. This between you and me.”
“Okay, you and me. What you want anyway?” said Woody.
“That TV show was way out of line. You can talk about me and Hargrave like you want. That’s politics. But talkin’ ‘bout my wife, well, you done broke the rules and you gonna have to pay.”
“Since when you ever, ever worried ‘bout a rule that you didn’t break if it didn’t benefit you. Save that bull for the rubes. You the one that first talked ‘bout wives.”
“When did I go after your wife in my campaign?” said Minos as he looked for shade. There was none.
“I heard that I abandoned my little boy, Émile, and me an orphan. I’m not fit to live with. I heard you said that. Go ahead tell me that ain’t true.”
“So that’s what this is all about. I hear from Hargrave that you got some pictures of me? What you tryin’ to do?”
“Hell, I ain’t tryin’ nothing.” said Woody. “I’m doin’ ya just like you did that cute little thing in New Orleans.”