Shotgun and Spears

>Chief Spears heard the bark of gunpowder and called for a dance of spears. >The lone Shotgun barked again, spitting fire and smoke into the air. >Spears wet their pants. >"That dancing and hollering isn't worth much against me," Shotgun blustered. >Chief Spear convened a meeting of the Spears Council, and a spear swooshed, "you hate us, Shotgun, 'cause we spears and none too lustrous!" >Shotgun thundered, and more buckshot waited like silent vultures. "Now that I've got your attention," Shotgun spouted, "let's talk cultures." >"Our culture," Chief Spear stabbed, "all we have to do is believe and we can fly." >Shotgun craked, "Try fluttering from a three-story grass-hut." >Chief Spear wobbled. The council shimmied nervously, stunned. >From along a grass-wall, a spear, among the bedraggled cache used in foolish riots, clanked, "I'm Young Spear and I wanna be a Shotgun." >Shotgun went on safety. "I can understand that, but being a Shotgun is complex." >"It's only about killing," Young Spear glintd, visibly vexed. >Shotgun in an instant blunderbuss, countered, "Woud you say that your community is intellectually kaput?" >"You're out'er line," Young Spear pointed. >Shotgun muzzled impatience. "How will you determine at whom to aim and shoot?" >"The same as when I was a spear." >Shotgun leveled on the Council. "Your culture's lacking, it's clear. Where are your houses of culture, your businesses for jobs, your forums on national and international issues?" >Old spears sitting at the table twanged up from their stools. >"We leave that to our politicians," Chief Spear poked. >Shotgun muffled, I stand among fools. Turning to Young Spear, "Okay, I'll convert you to a Gun." >"Convert my homies to Guns, too." >Shotgun clicked off safety. "Why?" >"To be equals with you." >"How do you figure that?" >'Cause we'll all be the same." >"But, Young Spear, we don't even look the same, and we come out of a different culture, different experiences." >Young Spear quivered. "Don't ever call me a 'spear' again! Twixt you and me ain't no differences!" >Call yourself whatever you want, Shotgun injected. Act like a spear, you're a spear. "Okay," he spewed, "I'll call you Spear-Gun." >"I'm finished with spears!" Young Spear flung at him. >"You a traitor, Young Spear!" Chief Spear vibrated. >"This is war!" Young Spear hurled, and spears pierced indiscriminately. >Shotgun, hammer cocked, backed out of the grass-hut, a thought triggering into the chamber: Something's awry here, a Shotgun doesn't backdown from a spear. . . . end . . .