The Fireflys meet the Hawks, and Lardass

Meanwhile.....
The KKK rally was still going on, having the air of a veritable hate-crime themed carnival.

The participants had retired to sleeping bags, tents, campers and such to get their rest before the last day of mutual agreement on the superiority of their race. Several Cadillacs pulled up and a couple dozen beefy black fellows exited, armed with some heavy automatic weapons. Lastly a tall, broad-shouldered garishly dressed man stepped out of the car, a purple bowler hat rakishly sitting on his head and a brass-headed cane in one hand. He threw down the cigar he was smoking and gazed around the sleeping camp. "Let's break this shit up," he ordered.

"Sure thing, Charlie," one of the men affirmed, nodding his head at the others. In groups of three and four they went from tent to camper, startling the Klan people and their families awake.

One of the lamentably (ha) deceased Larry's good friends Danny was jolted to consciousness by some dirty negroes brandishing guns and yelling at him. He had been disappointed at Larry's failure to show at this crucial rally, and now this? He slipped his hand under his pillow and pulled out his revolver and snapped off a shot at one of the blacks. He returned fire with his automatic handgun, blowing out Danny's kneecap and sending him groaning with pain to the ground. "Get him and bring 'im out," said another of Charlie's men.

Charlie was busying himself dousing the makeshift living spaces with homemade napalm, whistling and smiling as he worked. Screams and protests from the racists were punctuated with sporadic weapons fire as some tried to fight. Diana and her family were herded out into the cool night air and brought to the middle of the grounds with the others. She too had been upset at Larry's absence but had tried not to make a big deal out of it; they'd been fucking each other secretly for some time. Her boyfriend hadn't a clue and neither did her parents. "What the fuck is this?," she demanded, voice going shrilly.

"Can it, beeyotch," was the response. Danny was laying on the ground with a pool of blood forming under his leg.

The husky pimp stuck his head in a pavilion and was shocked at what he discovered: Several black women were tied up and gagged in chairs, obviously having been horribly used and abused. "Aw, hell no!," exclaimed Charlie, rushing to untie them. "Gonna be some crispy cracker tonight." After freeing the poor captives and bidding them to seek safety he stomped to where many of the racists were being held at gunpoint. "Who's doin was it that caused those ladies to be tortured??," he demanded. Silence greeted him, some of the men dropping their eyes guiltily. One of the men met his gaze defiantly and Charlie approached him. "How about you?," he demanded.

"Fuck you," he spat.

Charlie swung the cane against the man's face, again and again. He dropped to the ground but Charlie kept swinging until their was nothing but red pulp above his shoulders. "Kill them," he said.

The morse code repeating of gunfire permeated the air followed by the strangled sounds of the dying. "NOOOoo!," shrieked Diana, rushing Charlie. He calmly pulled a revolver out of his jacket pocket and sent a bullet through her hip, the projectile embedding itself in her pelvis. She dropped like a sack of potatoes, tears streaming out her eyes. He bent over her to watch her bleed, the last remnant of the doomed rally.

"Fucking...porch monkeys..," she gasped, staring up at him. "You niggers...won't get away--with this."

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't," he trilled. "Won't help you none, Sugar." Cocking the hammer he pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple. *Blam* Blood, brains and fluid spattered the ground and Charlie's arm and hand. He never took pleasure in killing, but this was hot-blooded, angry death-dealing tonight. He felt that ultimately a service to society in general had been rendered. "Justice, American-style," he murmured. Striking a match he threw it on a flammable-soaked tent. With a roaring whoof it blazed up, soon spreading all across the site.


May 1976
Dear Aunt Gabby:

I'm sorry I didn't make it or send word but I got waylaid and it was a blessing in disguise. I made a new friend which led to more acquaintances and opportunities. I'm working as a freelance photographer and have joined a ranch. You know how I always loved horses, and if I can save up enough money I'll buy myself a small ranch of my own. I'm living with the nice folks who hired me for the time being, but before long I can get my own place.

My friend (whom I mentioned before) is working taking care of a lady's disabled son and I'm hoping to convince her to help me with my ranch idea. Even though it's back in the sticks it's really nice here, and it'll be wonderful to take some time off from college and the whole rat-race.

I still may be able to make that visit up your way before the year is out and we can catch up then. Sadly there's no phones to be had in this little bitty town so if you can pass it along to Dad that I'm fine and happier than I've been in a while that would be great. Well, gotta run, there's much work to do down here on the farm! hahaha.

Love,

Sandoz Cuinn

Epilogue:

The Hawks--a duo of female criminals who cut a path through the Southern and Southwestern part of the United States. No one was quite sure when they started their life of robbery, vandalism, kidnapping and occasional murder or where they first emerged, but one thing is clear: they were a force to be reckoned with and left a string of love-struck men every town they hit. One was dark-haired and slender, the other a brash redhead, living a life of complete freedom and abandon. Somehow, they always found their way back to Ruggsville and their adopted family.