from my collection of short stories called THE LITTLE BOOK OF COMPLEXITIES & ABSURDITIES:
The details are sketchy and the evidence of this tale has been misplaced, but in a bar out West, Three Winds Saloon, a bartender will tell the story for a drink of sarsaparilla. It goes something like this…
Before Willie Nelson. Before Johnny Cash. Before Roy Clark. Before Will Rogers. And even before Gene Autrey. There’s the legend of Rufus Hatfish And His Lousy Banjo, circa l858.
Rufus wanted to be a carpenter, but he was clumsy with a hammer. He even tried being a bank robber, but found out he was allergic to gunpowder. Then one day walking past Big Goat’s Pawn Shop, he saw it — it was love at first sight. Having no money, Rufus traded his cowboy boots and spurs for the banjo.
Rufus turned out to be a horrible musician, horrible enough to make babies cry all over town and horses drown themselves in their troughs. But Rufus loved that banjo.
As the years went by, the townsfolk became weary of Rufus and his banjo. At a town meeting, a lynch mob was proposed, but it was shy of just one vote. So instead, they threw him in jail and made him promise never to play his banjo again. Rufus promised and was released. But he still loved that banjo. That evening, the town heard that horrible sound once again.
The townsfolk revolted and gathered in a mob. Rufus and his banjo were thrown out into the middle of the street and pelted with sticks and stones. Rufus staggered to his feet, grabbed his banjo and escaped, disappearing into the darkness.
Under the shelter of a cactus, Rufus said, “In the end, some guys get the girl… some guys get to ride off into the sunset. And me, all I get is this lousy banjo.” Then he grinned and strummed a few notes as the coyotes howled in the distance.
***
Copyright © 2011 by Rob Dragan
