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THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL.9, PAGE 37

“Hey, you, snugglers,” I yelled as Wild Jill and I stepped out of the bushes, “you got any ill eagles there ?

We’re from the Hoarder Patrol !”

“No your not”, said which ever Rosenblum he was, “you’re that private guy and she’s the cops !”

Jill pulled out her shooting iron but was pressed to the ground by the other Rosenblum who had bull rushed us from behind.

Maggie Hatcher, who must have heard my ill eagle crack, flew right in the face of our adversity.

It was no yoke, her squawks egged on the other chickens to attack.

At the same time I felt a cold, grave wind at my back.

It was the bird tenders of Wetburg!

They came up the road like the four oarsman of the Epoxylips.

The Ghost Bride astride Cobweb, the night mare, it’s eyes aflame and snorting sulphur.

Guggle Flush, drunk driving a 1938 Fantom.

Bench-A-Man Franklin came in a flying tackle.

While Little Emily Trickerson was a shade behind, bear back on a polargeist.

michaellewisart

RIDING TO THE RESCUE

 

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 9, PAGE 36

“Yes”, continued Bench-A-Man, “everyone wants to see the Wild Chickens Of Wetburg.”

“The two purists you mentioned”,  I asked, “were they interested in chickens as well?’

“Yep, I sent them down to Fowlweather Farm as it was just about feeding time.”

“How do I get there?”

“Easy, just take Apparition Avenue here, to Haunts Hall where you’ll turn left on Deadend Road.

Go passed Banshee Records to the cutoff  at the Headless Inn.

That will take you to Fowlweather.”

By the time I got there it was feeding time alright.

One of the pluckers was trying to feed the wild chickens into the van by using Coopsa Daisy as lead waddler.

The van had a sign that now read: “Can Plucky Flied Chicken”.

And as I expected the villain was one of the Power Flower thugs, one of the Rosenblum’s, Slap C. or Moxie.

michaellewisart

WEEDING TIME

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL.9, PAGE 35

I tried asking Flush if he had seen the blue van but his answer was lost in delirious treatments.

The Ghost Bride just started shrieking in my face.

Little Emily was equally hoopless.

So it was Bench-A-Man Franklin who finally filled me in.

Yes, two purists had stopped a couple hours before and took the quick tour.

“Nobody,” said Franklin “has spent overfright in the Sheet Kickin’ Hotel for years.

No, they just came in, bought a set of Spooky Wench Pastecards, and some tease shirts made by the Tie And Die Company.

One read ‘I GOT CLIPPED AT  HAIR RAZOR IN WETBURG’ and the other read: ‘I TOOK WAIT TRAINING IN THE LIMBO GYM IN WETBURG’.

They wanted to know where to go for food and spirits.

I sent them to ‘All You Can Eat And Still Come Away Hungry’ Purgeatory Palace.

Guggle Flush sent them to Griefeaters where they bought a bottle of Joe Cotton Gin.”

“You have more businesses” I said, “than you’d expect in a ghost town.”

“Oh yes, the town has been dying to do business.

Next month the spectre of Mark Twine said he wants to reopen Tomb’s ‘Get A Tome At Tomb’s’ Books

Ghost Of A Chance, ‘the dating service for the recently deceased’ is thinking of relocating to Wetburg.

We’ve even been in talks with Bison Bill of the Dairy Air about opening one of Alred Glitchpot’s I Scream Parlours and Ophelias’s Evening Drowns, late of Mootown, wants to take over Mourning Apparel.”

michaellewisart

SPOOKY SOUVINER GRIFTS

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 9, PAGE 34

Now things haven’t hatched for Gelt with respect to Goldfeather.

It seems that no matter how hard he tries or any wild foul trainer he hires, tries, they haven’t been able to get near the furious brooder.

By now that mad hen must be sitting on quite a stock pile of gilt yokes.

Another Wetbird is the leg and dairy hen,  Hennypenny, the island’s oldest chicken.

She was roomered to be over a hundred years even before the advent of Hurrycame Windy.

She now resides in her own Coop Toosure at the Grizzly Hills Zoo, an island treasure.

So beloved is she that Eon Framing, creator of the Mallard Drake spy trillers, named Commander X’s second in demand, Miss Hennypenny.

These were the thoughts and preyers that brought me to that farm community of spooks, looking for the Blue Van Bandits.

michaellewisart

‘AH, MISS HENNYPENNY’

 

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 9, PAGE 33

No one knows for sure what drove the Wetburg chickens into town, weather it was the hurrycame or some feather brained instink, but ever sense they have been tended by  ghosts.

So it was natural that eventually they and their descendants all went stark clucking crazy.

Hence the expression: ” Mad as a Wet hen.”

The Phantom Rooster, who cocks a doodle every time some citizen croaks, was first heard after the waters reseeded Wetburg.

Easy Pickens is in fact the only farmer who has had any pluck with these egg layers.

His clumsy but beautiful Coopsa Daisy, who takes thirst prize every year at The Fair-To-Midland and Maggie Hatcher, newsworthy for her success at breaking up ill eagle bird fights, were both among the hens some yoker sold him, thinking they would destroy his farm.

Even Chicken Whittle, the beak carver, another musty at the Fair, and the sadly ever- missed, Goldfeather were both former Wetbirds.

Easy is still angry about Goldfeather and how J. Morgan Gelt convinced him it would be in his best interest to mortgage the hen who lays the golden eggs.

michaellewisart

BIRDS OF A TETHER

 

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 9. PAGE 32

When Wetburg drown in the year of Hurrycame Windy, it took four of it’s citizens with it.

One was Guggle Flush, the town dunk, whose spirit now resides in a bottle on the empty Merchant File shelf.

The second, little Emily Trickson, you’ve probably run through several times as she rolls her hoop, one shoe on, the other gone to the bottom of the ocean.

The third wraith is Bench-A-Man Franklin, the old putball coach, who swore not to move, so is rocking forever on the Merchant File’s porch.

The last presence, you may have even given a ride to as she tests the towns limits in her torn welding gown, trying to get to the hitching she missed.

I was glad to see the ghost town bride in full bustle and that there was even a pluckitude of chickens out for the day.

michaellewisart

POPULATION MINUS FOUR

 

THE SUN OF SEA CZAR CITY, VOL. 9, PAGE 31

Mist have been late with the fogging road block because when we got to Warp Seed Harbour, Jungle Belle, Wild Jill’s deputy said in the cold grey, she’d hardly seen a thing.

We took Demon Dog Road passed the Moore’s where Lee Z. Gladstone and I captured Tickles, the Nellhound of Basketune.*

We passed Widow Weeds, where so many people have disappeared, and up Brass Hill into Ripe Pillage, where Helen Wheels’ parents live.

We turned left on Pasture Turn through Haggleville, passed the recently closed Jackassic Park**and the still open Stag Nation Deer Reserve.

We passed the notorious little village, White-On-Rice, now called Coupling-On-The-Sly, in honour of Joyce Bitts’ thinly bailed tell-all novel about its secret small town affairs.

The book turned the sleepy little omelet into a hot bed of purist hash.

I didn’t bother to look for the birds at the Power Flower Farm, as I figured they’d have to be pretty stoned, my quarry, to return to their own nest.

We took a left on Cooperfeel Way, passed Deadbolt, and the Quint Westwood Ranch, the Bar Nun, ignoring the Hanslapp Fork, to finally arrive at the blink in the road called Wetburg, known to the locos as “Wetbird”.

The sign on the road read: “Welcome To Wetburg, Population, – 4”.

michaellewisart

BASKETUNE ISLAND

*See Vol. 4, Have Pun Will Travel

**See Vol. 8,  The Travels Of Sea Czar City

 

 
 
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