A/n: Hi! I just thought I'd post this, since the idea wouldn't leave me alone. (You know how stubborn plots can be when they've a mind to.) Anyway, it's an Andy Griffith Show and Dukes of Hazzard crossover, moving Andy Griffith's timeline into the Dukes of Hazzard's. Hopefully I do no permanent damage to either. Let me know what you think! And they're not mine.
Now, if y'all's ever up around North Carolina, you'll prob'ly run across a little picturesque spot called Mayberry. I'm sure y'all know a little by now of Hazzard County and its unusual habits, but the little town of Mayberry boasts some pretty unique characters its own self. One of them characters just happens to have family down around Hazzard. And friends and neighbors, this fella is somethin' else. And so, goin' down for a visit, he thought he'd stop in and see how the local Hazzard hospitality fared next to his usual accommodations up in Mayberry…
Otis Campbell staggered drunkenly down the streets of Hazzard Square. His bleary gaze took in the sight of Rhuebottom's General Store, the Hazzard bank, and what he was looking for, the county courthouse. Time to check in for a night of sleeping it off in a nice safe location, the county jail.
As he knocked erratically on the courthouse door, an irritated man with a sheriff's badge opened it.
"Alllllllll right, stranger, what business do ya got here? Git, you're makin' a nuisance of yerself." The Sheriff turned to slam the door, but Otis remained undeterred from his purpose.
"I wanna reques' a room, please." His words, slurred to almost indecipherable, surprised the man he spoke to.
"A room? This ain't the Hazzard Hotel!" The Sheriff growled in annoyance. "I can't waste time arguin' here, I gotta go make sure them Duke boys ain't escapin'! They ain't gonna get loose on my watch; not after Roscoooooo P. Coltrane cuffs em and stuffs em!" Sheriff Coltrane giggled loudly, then grew serious once more as he said, "Now, just get off my streets; you're disturbin' my peace!"
Otis listened unheeding as Sheriff Coltrane droned on, then calmly shouldered past the man, who stared wide-eyed at him, too stunned at his audacity to move.
"Can you direc' me to an empty cell," Otis asked, swaying from side to side as he spoke.
"Oh, sure," another man, obviously a deputy, answered before Coltrane could throw Otis back out. "Just down those steps over there. You can't miss em. Just make sure you don't let them Dukes escape. Not after all the trouble we went to catch em!"
Otis tipped his hat and bowed in what would have been a grand gesture, if he could remain steady on his feet. He zigzagged towards the stares in question as Sheriff Coltrane yelled at the helpful deputy, "Cletus, you dipstick! Why'd ya tell—?"
After nearly falling down half of the steps, Otis finally found what he sought. One snug, almost homey, unoccupied cell. The tiny bunk cried out to him, offering peace and security behind the barred door. The two young men in the other cell didn't seem like they'd be too much of a disturbance to him, either; they were too busy staring in surprise as he took the jail keys, let himself inside their adjacent cell, and locked himself up, to really prove much of a bother. Otis tossed the keys outside the cell and the boys watched longingly as they sailed in a wide arc to land just shy of the nearest desk. He turned to the two shocked boys and said , "I'll have my breakfas' when I wake up, if you'd be so kind to tell em that."
As he dropped heavily down on the little cot, he heard the boys whispering, "Well, would you believe that?"
"Here we spend all our time tryin' to break outta here, an' this fella's breakin' in!"
While his neighbors tried to understand why someone would lock himself up willingly, Otis settled in, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He had to admit, he felt a little homesick. He wished he had easy-going Sheriff Andy Taylor there to talk to, and bring him his Aunt Bee Taylor's home cooking and even the despised remedies for hangover. He missed seeing little Opie, the Sheriff's son, come running in to visit his dad and having a pleasant word to say to Otis along the way. He wouldn't even have minded having Deputy Barney Fife around to argue with as Barney tried to force him to part ways with his favorite vice, moonshine. The two young fellows a cell over seemed nice enough, but there was no getting around the fact that the Hazzard County jail was not home.
The deputy Cletus came down a few moments later and after a brief, unsuccessful debate over the unfairness of their incarceration, the boys gave up arguing. Deputy Cletus nodded in satisfaction, giving the bars an experimental tug as if not quite sure of their solidity, then noticed the new occupant one cell over.
"Hey, what are you doin' in there?"
Otis, figuring there was no way he'd be getting to sleep with all the interest everybody was taking in him, sat back up, struggling to focus on the fuzzy image of the deputy.
"Issare a problem, off'cer?" he slurred.
"You ain't supposed to be in there! Where are my keys?" Cletus patted all of his pockets down, trying to locate the keys, that were now located on the floor. Neither the boys nor Otis gave him the information he needed, each having their own motivations for not telling.
Otis raised himself up—with some difficulty—to his full height, the very model of drunken indignity. He said in an offended tone, "I mussay I'm insulted by the treatmen' I received here. Sheriff Taylor le's me have a cell all to mysel' an' he don' say nothing about throwin' me out. I wanna speak to your superior!"
While Otis' labored tirade dragged out, Cletus received a few more visitors with complaints to air. An older man with white hair and whiskers, and a beautiful young woman in very short shorts came at the poor deputy angrily.
"Now what phony charge does Rosco got my boys in here for this time?" the old man demanded, eyes flashing with the hot rage he was feeling.
Cletus shrugged helplessly. "I don't know! I'm tellin' you, Uncle Jesse--"
"I ain't your Uncle Jesse!" Jesse snapped. "I'm them boys Uncle Jesse an' I know they ain't done whatever it is Rosco and Boss Hogg says they done, so why don't ya just let 'em go!"
The girl's approach held more honey than her uncle's soured disposition. "Cletus, sugar, can't ya just see my cousins ain't done nothin' wrong, and let em go, just for me?"
The deputy's cheeks flushed a deep red and he stammered, "Daisy, I'd love to let Bo and Luke go, really I would, but Rosco'd nail my hide to the wall! If Cousin Boss didn't have me stuffed and mounted first. Besides, I can't find my jail keys.
A quick glance thrown Bo and Luke's way, and the slightest gesture on their part led Jesse and Daisy to where the keys lay.
Daisy picked them up, holding them up teasingly. "You mean these silly little keys?" she asked in the most innocent tone.
"Yeah, thanks, Daisy!" Cletus cried gratefully. "Um, can I have em back?"
"Catch, sugar!" Cletus was quick, but Otis' companions in the next cell were quicker. The dark-haired one grabbed them out of the air and yanked them inside the cell before Cletus could even blink.
Jesse laughed. "Great catch, Luke!"
"Hey, no fair, give em back!"
"Sorry, Cletus," the blonde boy—Bo, wasn't it?—said with a chuckle.
"You're gonna hafta come in and get em!" Luke added, tossing them in the air, just out of the deputy's outstretched reach.
"But I can't come in there if I can't unlock the door!" Cletus moaned in despair.
"Tell ya what, Cletus," Luke said by way of compromise. "We'll unlock the door, and then you can come in and get em!"
Otis stared in surprise, wondering if it was the moonshine playing tricks with his hearing as the deputy cried in relief, "Gee, thanks, fellas!"
The door unlocked, slid open, and while Cletus was retrieving his jail keys the boys slipped past him and ran for their freedom, Daisy and Jesse not far behind.
"Hey, stop!" Cletus shouted as he attempted to untangle himself from the blanket they'd tossed his keys into and then rushed off to pursue them. From above him Otis heard the Sheriff he'd met earlier shout "Freeze!" and heard more running upstairs. A car engine roared loudly, sirens screamed, and then all was quiet once more.
And Otis Campbell of Mayberry, now forgotten by all, at last settled himself on the inviting little cell bunk to sleep off his intoxication. He decided, before he drifted off to dream, that the next time he was in town, maybe he'd try a time when the jail wasn't quite so lively.
Of course, in Hazzard County, that's nigh onto impossible. Unless maybe the Dukes went to visit up Mayberry's way?
A/n: well, that's it. Finally, a story finished! I promise to all those actually interested I haven't given up on "For All the Ladies Out There" but I need to work out some bugs first. Please R and R, and let me know what you think!