Twas the night

 A rock hurled into the cave had this note attached. So we thought oh what the hell, let's share it.

Twas the night before the election and all through the Lovelosers house, not a creature was stirring not even Phil’s arse. All the sample ballots were hung by the door jam with care, with hopes that Francis would soon shoot one there.

Bruce, Tom and Brian were nestled all snug in their one bed, with visions of a Moss victory dancing in their heads, and when outside of the double-wide there arose such a clatter, Bruce sprang from his bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window he flew in a flash, pulled down the soiled sheet and threw up his hands.

The moon on the primer gray Chevy gave off such a shine, when what to his bloodshot eyes should appear, but 'ol possum head’s rattling pickup holding eight dead deer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, Bruce knew in a moment it wasn’t another Lovelace dick, more rapid than Tom chasing a cheeseburger and fries, possum head leaped out, and he whistled and shouted and called out their names.

Now Dwain, now Ron, now Frank and Becky and on Olga and on Phil, and on with you Blackmoore. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of many police hooves.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, down through the roof came a buffalo rancher. He was dressed in all leather, from his head to his foot and his clothes were all tarnished with Loveloser's hashish soot.

A bundle of warrants he held in his hands. His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His gunmetal .45 ready to shoot and his humor as dry as 'ol possum head's solitary tooth.

He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like Joan’s KY jelly. He was chubby and plum, a right old jolly dude, and Bruce laughed when he saw him knowing he was dead. With a wink of his eye and a twist of his cuffs, the rancher moved quickly and arrested them all.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work, and torched their double-wide and Joan’s only tooth. Laying his finger aside of his nose, he sprang up through the roof and flew them away in his gas-powered sled.

I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, Lovelosers are busted, and to all a good night.