And His Gift To Humanity
Editor’s Note: When we last left The Snake, he had slithered into the darkness after frightening women away from a newsroom party at the marina by diving into a watermelon and beating his chest. The Snake’s tale continues amid much confusion as he emerges from the sludge of the river completely dry, wearing a kimono and smoking a cigar.
RIVER CITY, CT -- Officer Ziggy Blutarski didn’t much like reporters at first. Catching them unaware, Ziggy gained a sense of fulfillment practicing his cure for irregularity by quickly drawing his revolver. The method didn’t always work, though Ziggy became mellow, even cheerful at the sight of his cured or uncured patients.
He soon joined the regular crew at Choir Practice, our clubhouse that opened on the shore after the bars closed. Many professions – some of them legal – were represented. Included were cab drivers, cops, teachers, musicians, singers and wanderers of all sorts.
It took some time and sensitive coaching persuading Ziggy not only to end his gastrointestinal practice, but also to stop shooting at the ducks.
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