Snakes in a Wigwam
By Counterpart and Midge P. Guinn
So that's how it all began. Oh, I'm sorry, did you just come in?
Well, I'm not going to explain it to you. You should have been on
time.
Anyway, after the incident with the snakes on the plane,
Alphonse was very intrigued.
He decided that it would be a good idea after all to seek
Samuel L. Jackson himself.
But where to begin?
To the wigwam!
The chief was already upset. He thought his daughter would
marry the taller guy, but she just had to have her goulash-man.
They tried to warn him a long time ago that this might
happen. They warned him a lot. To no avail! He was as blind as he
was…crooked. (If you know what I mean!) With three good legs and a
handkerchief.
Although he was an honest kind of goulash-man, he wasn't the
sort that any self-respecting chief would want his only daughter to
marry.
And that is why he was upset when Alphonse came to him,
inquiring about a certain Samuel L. Jackson.
"Who goes there?"
"It is I. Alphonse. I come bearing gifts of turnips and
goulash."
"Goulash!" the chief cried, distraught. "Never speak of
goulash in this wigwam!"
After a distinguished pause, Alphonse then added, "And I
brought Snausages. For your wigwam beasts."
At this, the four beasts looked up, and salivated at the
stranger. But they were not hungry for Snausages. They wanted to
eat dear Alphonse!
Now, friends, do not be afraid for our hero! He will come to
no harm within this chapter, I assure you. Now, to continue the
story….
Chapter 2
Before he could react, Poor Alphonse was launched into the
wall of the wigwam. The wigwam beasts paused in confusion, for this
had not been their doing.
The chief was chuckling. Alphonse appeared angry. The beasts
would have blogged, but they hadn't learned that yet.
"Oh, silly you," said the chief. "Wigwam beasts don't eat
Snausages! Only… the FLESH OF AN ARROGANT INQUISITOR!"
"I am no Inquisitor!" Alphonse proclaimed blasphemously.
"Indeed, you rather seem to be," the chief taunted
laboriously.
Just then, the goulash-man entered the festive wigwam. He
surveyed the scene, then took a sip of the gift goulash Alphonse had
generously brought. The chief turned red with anger.
"Just who do you think you are! From now on, your name is
GOULASH!" screamed the chief.
"Don't you mean 'his name is mud'?" Alphonse asked.
"NO." The word was final.
"I bet you wanna know why I came here, don't you," teased the
Goulash.
"Yes, we do," said Alphonse.
"WELL, I was just coming back from a very important
discussion. And we have decided that Sammy J. shall come to stay in
THIS VERY WIGWAM!"
There was the sound of applause, but none could tell where it
was coming from.
Alphonse started to cry. "I've always wanted to meet Mr.
Jackson!" he said contentedly. "He is so very…attractive. And
shiny." Alphonse's sentiment was met with unhappy glances about the
wigwam. No one knew how to respond, as they too had secret crushes
on Samuel L. Jackson, but refused to admit it. Alphonse had taken on
an expression of dreamy glee, much like that of a young girl catching
sight of a Hatake Kakashi cosplayer. Only he wasn't going to glomp
anybody.
Yet.
Chapter 3
Samuel L. Jackson arrived in a poof of children. The children
separated and scattered about the wigwam, unsettled. As the children
scampered, Sammy J. removed his hat and hung it on the courtesy
wigwam coat rack. His now revealed head shined with holy light.
Alphonse fainted with happiness.
The chief looked away, unable to endure the blinding rays
emanating from the head of the Reverend St. Samuel Lloyd Jackson. Or…
Livingston. Lamprey. Longgorth. Legroom. Lawrenstein.
Loganklarschtenhaggenfleimer. Or…Long-johns.
Alphonse quickly recovered from his spell of illness and
shuffled into the light radius that was Samuel Jackson. Jackson
looked down at Alphonse with a knowing expression (cuz u just KNOW
Sammy would be taller than him lol), and Alphonse fainted again. And
recovered. Um. Again.
"When will I see you again?" Alphonse murmured to the
impressive sexy figure.
"When you learn to thwart mob leaders and their snakes, my
son." With this, Jackson turned and shook his thang. "See?" he
said. "Like this!"
And sure enough, every mob leader and snake in the area dove
into the sea and was never seen again.
Lemon Interlude
(Bet you wanna know, dontcha?)
End of Lemon Interlude
They returned to the wigwam, covered in tomato juice. Yes.
Oh yes.
At first, Alphonse had been disappointed. He didn't think
Samuel Jackson would have forgotten his Insta-Pasta Maker, but they
both decided to make the best of it.
The chief was polite enough not to say anything when he saw
them, but the Goulash snickered.
Chapter 4
Then it all went to hell in a hand basket.
No, seriously. They were all picked up by an unseen hand,
placed not gently into a giant hand basket, and lowered into the
depths of Hell.
The four wigwam beasts sniffed about curiously, licking
themselves in an un-ladylike manner as they went. Alphonse looked
away, feeling guilty.
He knew exactly why he was there, and why Sam, his "friend",
was with him, but he was unsure as to why the Goulash and the chief
were with him, as well.
Goulash knew. The chief knew. They, too, exchanged wary
glances full of meaning.
Then, each of the four beasts walked over to each of the
four "companions".
Alphonse timidly reached for the paw of his beast and the two
of them danced. Catching on, the others also danced. Lucifer heard
the ruckus and came up to see.
"What's the whereabouts then where what?" he asked, as he
always did.
"We…we're…" Alphonse began.
"In Hell dancing with wigwam beasts because we were very
naughty men," Goulash explained mischievously
All four of the men giggled.
Even Samuel L. Jackson.
"You're in luck, boys," Satan said. "We have four of them.
Four of them free each day, at least."
The chief's daughter never wondered where her beloved Goulash
had gone. She already knew.
