Old Timer

I had the strangest dream the other night.

$chultz, in a last minute act of desperation, declares martial law in Boerne and instead of locking out the growth and San Antonio commuters from our beloved little town, he locks us all IN. As if we’re in East Germany, he unrolls the razor wire, puts guys with assault rifles all over the place, and declares via a megaphone, “You guys wanted everyone to stay out of Boerne! Well, I couldn’t do that so instead I’m locking all of you IN!!” followed by a maniacal laugh.

Now don’t go off thinking I’m comparing $chultz to Hitler or anything like that – I’m just telling you about a bad dream. The previous night I dreamt that I was on a sailboat that was headed for Tahiti. Neither of these dreams are grounded in reality.

But there I was, locked into Boerne with approximately 12,000 other poor saps and just as soon as I was frantically cataloging my supplies for my impending test of survivalism, I awoke glistening in sweat and breathing wildly.

From there, I crawled out of bed and sat in my favorite recliner in the living room and looked out across the streets alit with our street lights…and a town that is calmly slumbering. I began to imagine what I would do to survive the pitfalls of being in a Boerne that was cut off from civilization.

From there, I generated “Old Timer’s Instruction for how to Survive the imaginary-not-real-totally-made-up $chultz Apocalypse”:

First thing I’m doing is grabbing my trusty Winchester and heading down to the river for my long-awaited reckoning for the duck population. Oh the joy I will have as I laugh and laugh while blasting those awful vermin, causing feathers to fly. I’ve only waited about 40 years to do this, and it might make the entire ordeal of being locked away well worth it. I would then have about 40 full ducks to throw into my deep freeze. Food? Check.

You guys remember that thing? Obama was doing some sort of deal where he was giving out armored trucks/tanks like candy, and good ol’ Boerne got right in line to pick one up. Those in law enforcement will tell you how valuable it is to have, and I’m sure they’ll have a point, but it always makes me chuckle when people whisper, “Think they’ll paint it purple and drive it in the parade?” Anyway, gotta have that thing. Steal it, drive it back to my house and park it in the backyard. If things go from bad to worse, I’m mobile and nothing can stop me. Tank? Check.

In order to get water, I need a heat source to boil the water. So first thing I do is make sure my propane tanks are full. From there, I live a stone’s throw from the Cibolo so I should be good. The only problem is that the water in that river is damn near radioactive it’s so unhealthy, so every glass will require a full boiling, and then perhaps even a prayer before I sip as even boiling might not remedy that water. As for bathing, that’s what the Town Square waterfall thing is for. Think anybody would mind a naked old man sudsing up in Town Squre? Water? Check

While everyone is freaking out, and since I have food, water, and a tank…I think I’ll head over to those apartments off Rosewood. The really low-income housing one. I drive by there all the time and those guys ALWAYS have a cookout going on, tejano is blaring, there’s beer flowing at 10am and everyone is laughing. I have wanted to hang out at that apartment for about 25 years, but I figured an old white guy might freak them out. In our new lawless community, I’m heading over there cause 1. they know how to have a good time, and 2. they also know how to spot trouble. I’m gonna eat some barbacoa, drink a Bud Light Lime, and twirl a senorita.

Look, I’ve talked about this forever but I now have food, I have water, I have a tank and I know how to have fun with my new friends off of Rosewood. It’s clear that at this point in our city’s tumultuous history, it needs an Emperor. I will fill that role. We’re going to have a City-Wide picnic every single day in Town Square, we’re going to have a huge BBQ duck feast down by the river on Saturday evenings, and the Dodging Duck is going to open the taps and serve beer until we all pop. We’re going to invite the guys from Rosewood, we’re going to turn up the stereo in my tank, and we’ll all hoist beers to the civility, the mutual appreciation, and the return of our small town vibe that my reign will bring.  When $chultz comes back to let us out, we’ll all boo and hiss at him and tell him to raise the razor wire even higher because we don’t want none of their stinking outsiders…we’re good.

Sadly, none of my dream will probably ever come true. We’ll probably always be free, there will never be razor-wire, and I’ll never get to steal the tank/truck. However, I may still machine-gun the ducks. And I’m definitely going to go hang out with my Rosewood friends. I’ve put that off for far too long, and I’m certainly not getting any younger. Turn up the Selena, boys! And hand me a Bud Light Chelada (man, that even sounds disgusting).


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