Just Walk Away

Long before my days as a writer for Identity Dixie, I roamed a far desert. My companions referred to me as “the warrior of the wasteland” and “the ayatollah of rock and rolla.” Some people characterized them as murderous psychos. They were really just eccentrics. The vast arid landscape had its charm, but fuel was in very short supply for a band of motor enthusiasts like us.

We heard about an outpost whose inhabitants were engaged in refining oil and decided to acquire it by right of conquest. Currency transactions weren’t part of the culture in this corner of the world, so it was perfectly standard procedure. As endearing as I found my companions, I’d readily concede that they weren’t the negotiating types. Honestly, I spent a lot of my time in those days simply trying to calm them down. Parley fell under my remit, so I did my best to be as conciliatory as possible.

After politely explaining the reality of their situation, I advised the residents that in exchange for departure, their lives would be spared, and they’d be allowed safe passage to parts unknown. Seeing as I literally ruled the wasteland via the charismatic leadership of my companions, this was a credible offer. In a place where nobody had even heard of lawyers or escrow accounts or anything of that sort, a gentleman’s word was the best one was ever going to receive.

Unfortunately, these people were not amenable to reason. After bringing back a pair of captured scouts, I once again, made an appeal to the values of humanity. As a negotiator, I’ve learned that it’s important to apprise your counterparty as to the potential consequences of not making a deal while leaving time available for them to deliberate a decision amongst themselves.

Despite my sincerity, I just couldn’t get them to see the light. In my opinion, most of the folks one encounters in life simply can’t be induced to do what’s good for themselves by offering them the proper incentives. Perhaps through a lack of vision, they’ll persist in their stubbornness until it’s too damn late. There’s no point to lament the fallen state of humanity. When the time comes, you just need to focus on the imperative for a man to do what he said he was going to do.

To make a long story short, the situation got very ugly. That’s all behind me now. I live quietly these days. But, I tell ya what. These prices at the pump can cause a man to lose his cool. Yesterday, I spotted a Karen filling up her large SUV. “Where do you think you’re going with that fat tank of gas? What a puny plan!” I shouted at her. As she looked over at me in shock, I told her, “Look around you. This is the valley of death.”

My border collie began barking excitedly from the car and I remembered that now I was in a country where money can be exchanged for goods and services. “Be still, my dog of war,” I reassured him. Still, I worry that the coming conditions of scarcity will bring out the more feral instincts of my fellow citizens. Karen called the police (of course) and we sped off before they could arrive. I’m not going back to jail.

Tom Shackleford

I’m proud to officially announce my candidacy for the office of Dogcatcher.