Terror In Mayberry

In Mayberry, perfect days are easy to come by. Rarely does anything more serious than a jay walker ever occur. Regardless, no one in the small town finds this boring - the regularity of the hum drum routine - and smiles can be found on most every face, except those who would not smile even if napping in paradise.

On this typically perfect day inside the hallowed walls of the Mayberry Courthouse, sheriff Andy Taylor and deputy Barney Fife were performing their daily duties: Andy typing at his desk and Barney sweeping out one of the vacant prison cells. Barney was whistling a pleasant tune while moving the settled dust out of the prison cell when he paused and asked, "Hey, Anj, when do you think Aunt Bee will be back?"

Andy said while looking at the typed page down his nose, "Hm, uh, tomorrow morning I think."

"I sure will be glad when she gets back; I haven't had a decent meal since she left."

Andy nodded, "Yeah, I shore will be glad when she gets back too. What have you been doing? Eating out?"

"No. That's too expensive. A buck eighty at five nights a week, well that's… let's see, drop the zero, carry a two, add six…"

"Nine dollars."

"What?"

Andy looked up at Barney with a matter-of-factly gaze, "A buck eighty at five nights, nine dollars."

"Yeah, of course. Well, anyway, I have been cooking my own food."

Andy smiled slyly, "I didn't know you could cook."

Barney smugly threw his chest out, "Are you kidding? Of course I can cook."

"Well, I'll be. The things you learn. What have you been cooking?"

Barney said, "Well, lot's of things."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Oooh, you know. The usuals."

"The usuals? What's the usuals?"

Barney darted his eyes about and fanned an arm around with his words, "The usuals, you know, the usuals."

"No, I don't know. What kind of usuals, exactly?"

Barney cleared his throat and tugged at his tie and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

Barney mumbled again and placed a tight grip on his broom.

"I can't hear you Barn."

Barney suddenly shouted, "Beans! Alright, I have been eating beans every night."

Andy laughed a bit, "Beans? There's nothing wrong with beans. That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Who said I was embarrassed? I know there's nothing wrong with beans. I happen to make very good beans."

Andy giggled, "I bet you do."

"I do. And you can laugh all you want, but plenty of people like my cooking."

"I'm sure they do."

"They do. Plus, I have been spicing them up, adding my own unique flavors and personality to them."

"What kind of spices?"

"Chili sauce… mainly."

Andy laughed hard, "Chili sauce, I bet everyone gets a lot of your personality for sure."

Barney bent down to move the prison rug over a bit in a huffy motion, "You're just a regular jester, you are. Good thing you're in a court all day. We need to get you some bright pajamas and hat with jingle bells hanging all off of it…" During that spasm of anger when he moved the small rug, unnoticed by him yet certainly observed by Andy, a small card fell from Barney's shirt pocket to the floor.

"What's that is your pocket?" Andy asked.

Barney stood and trotted happily over to the desk, leaving the card on the floor, and reached in his pocket for another, brandishing it in front of Andy. "I have been meaning to show you these. Take a look at that."

Andy read it aloud, "Bernard Milton Fife."

Barney smiled brightly, "That's right."

"Well, that's just your name Barney."

"Yeah, yeah, but they were supposed to say 'Bernard Milton Fife: Deputy Sheriff' Louis down at the printers said he ran out of room to put Deputy Sheriff on there on account of how big I wanted the letters. Anyway, because of that, I got these cards printed at half cost."

"Let me get this straight. You don't have money to eat out in the afternoon, but you do have money to have a stack of cards…"

"Two hundred," Barney grinned and tapped the card in Andy's hand.

Andy cleared his throat and said, "A stack of two hundred cards with only your name on them?"

"Yeah, but they were supposed to say 'Bernard Milton Fife: Deputy Sheriff'"

"Uh huh. Why?"

"Why what?" asked Barney.

"Why do you need two hundred cards that say 'Bernard Fife…"

"Bernard Milton Fife," Barney raised a finger.

"… yeah, 'Deputy Sheriff'"

"Because, so I can hand them out to people when I protect and serve them."

Andy raised an eyebrow, "Why do you need to do that?"

"So they know who am I and what I am after the job is done."

"Barney, everyone in town knows who you are, and the badge tells them you are a Deputy Sheriff."

Barney insisted, "But don't you see Andy, this is the wave of the future. If people can't remember which Deputy served them, they have this card to go by."

"Barney, you are the only Deputy Sheriff in May…" Andy abruptly stopped and looked up in shock, holding his nose and fanning the air in front of him, "Barney, is that what I think it is?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Andy. I told I have been eating nothing but beans every day. I think it's the chili sauce."

"Couldn't you hold it?"

"No, it hurts too much in my lower gullets."

Andy tried to remove his hand but the smell was too strong, "It smells like you might be dying."

"Well you don't have to hurt a guy's feelings."

The courthouse door busted open and old, stingy Ben Weaver busted in, "Sheriff! Sheriff! I need you out here at once."

Andy put his hand down and said, "Okay Ben, I could use some fresh air anyhow."

As the three of them walked out the door Ben wrinkled his nose, "Dead cat somewhere?"

"Dead gullet," said Andy.

Once outside Ben pointed out a fresh produce stand with a young man moving goods to a long line of ladies. "See, see there Andy. You have to go put a stop to it."

Andy said, "That looks like Fred Dingleberry's cart. I didn't know he was selling from his garden now. I don't know who that young man is."

"Andy, does Fred Dingleberry have a business license or a permit?"

"Not that I know of Ben."

"Well, why do I have to pay for a business license and Fred Dingleberry doesn't?"

Andy sighed, "He does have to have one, Ben. Just simmer down. I will take care of this."

"You just better Andy. Maybe we should get a Sheriff who stays on top of things in this town and enforces the rights of those of us who play by the rules."

Andy furrowed his brow, "Ben, now that's about enough. I said I'd take care of it. Now you go on about your business."

Ben wandered off growling under his breath.

Barney said, "That old Ben, has a hornet's nest in his bonnet all the time. What you gonna' do, have the boy move it off?"

Andy said, "The bigger question is, who is that young man, and why does he have Fred's cart?"

The young man was behind bars in Otis Campbell's usual cell as Andy reassured him, "Now, don't worry too much about this Mister David…"

The young man said, "Barnett. The name is David Barnett."

"Don't worry too much about this. You say Fred had to leave town to get a part for his plow and will be back day after tomorrow, and that you have been doing odd jobs at his home and selling from the cart is one of those jobs you were hired for."

"Hired is a bit of stretch Sheriff," said David, "I'm not actually receiving any cash from Mr. Dingleberry. He is giving me room and board plus meals while I am in town."

"And how long is that?" asked Andy.

"It's hard for me to say. I am really just passing through."

"You seem like a pleasant enough fellow Mr. Barnett. Why aren't you settled down with a nice job in some town?"

"It's a long story Sheriff, and rather personal. I hope you don't mind."

The Sheriff nodded, "Nope. Nope. I don't mind. And I hope you don't mind if I clear this whole story with Fred when he get's back. I have never known him to put on a hired hand. Not exactly Fred's way."

"I completely understand Sheriff. I would do the same. There are no hard feelings on my end."

Andy smiled, "Well, it's always nice to have cooperative guests." The phone rang and Andy answered it, "Hello. Hey Aunt Bee! You're home already? Well, that's great. And you couldn't be back a moment too soon. We have us a new patron here at Mayberry's finest, a young man by the name of David Barnett. Do you think you could rustle something up right fast and have Barney bring it over? Wonderful, wonderful. Thank you so much."

Later that afternoon Barney entered the courthouse with a large picnic basket in hand. He hustled from the door towards the room wherein was his cot, adjacent to the cells. The young man stood and said, "Deputy? Deputy? I found something that may belong to someone."

Busy and in thought, Barney asked, "What's that?"

David Barnett laughed a little, "Well, it's actually kind of funny. It's a card that reads 'Bernard Milton Fife,' and that's all it reads. Who would have a card with only their name on it? There is no title or any other information on it." He laughed a little harder, "Actually, it's more than a little funny, it's right down ridiculous. And that name, what a name. Only a person with a name like that could have a card like this made."

Barney shuffled to the prison cell and snatched the card, "Thanks," he said quickly and dryly. "I will make sure it get's filed accordingly."

David could sense a bit of frustration in Barney's voice, "Did I say anything wrong?"

"No, of course not."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name Deputy."

Barney turned and began back to the room, "Barney, you can call me Barney."

David said, "Well, nice to meet you Barney…" then he thought for a second and whispered, "Barney. Bernard." David spoke loudly again, "Wait, Barney. I'm sorry if I made a mistake. That's not your…"

Barney finished, "Nope, not me. Not my card."

Barney went back to the room and looked into the basket. He moaned, "Fried chicken, mashed potatoes…" Barney opened a can of beans and poured them into a pan, then placed the pan onto a small electric hot plate. He stirred as he dumped heaps of chili sauce into the pan, "Let's see how you like my special spicy beans Mr. Smart Alec Barnett." Barney then took a bite of a chicken leg.

In the darkness of the early morning, closer to midnight than sunrise, the telephone in the little courthouse was consistently ringing. Out of the adjacent room, trudging heavy footed with drooping eyelids, Barney came dressed in his night gown and cap. He grabbed the phone and placed the wrong mechanism to his ear and spoke into the microphone which should have been listened to. "Hello. Barney's office, Deputy courthouse speaking."

He waited, shrugged, and placed the phone back on the hook. No sooner than he turned back to his sleeping chamber, the phone rang again. He picked it up in the wrong fashion again, his every motion latent with sleep, and said through blubbering lips, "Hello, Wally's station. Deputy…" and he began to snore. The phone fell from his hands and he started a bit, but not enough to open his eyes or hold his head up. A limp hand waved twice as he said, "Come again," and slumped back to his bed.

Barney never noticed the green glow emanating from the empty prison cell where the young and handsome David Barnett had been detained. Barney also did not see the gaping hole, almost large enough to pull an automobile through, in the rear wall of that prison cell. The hole was jagged, almost as if a bomb had went off in the cell. The sleeping Deputy was aware of none of this until the next morning light.