Den Links Literature Reviews Bookstore Friends Humor Claire's Essays Claire's Books Wolfe's Lodge

Previous FRIENDS Next

Wolf Tracks

Mr. Peabody and Sherman: A Militia Story

By Ed Parker

Ed Parker says: "When I was a boy I watched "Peabody's Improbable History" daily on the Chigago-based Garfield Goose Show. Mr. Peabody was always bailing out some significant historical figure right before he screwed up a big historical event. When I sat down to write it, I was surprised to find the style and cadence of the writing coming so naturally to me." (For those who don't remember, Mr. Peabody is a scholarly cartoon dog who travels through time to give history lessons to his eager, but slightly dim-witted boy, Sherman.)

Sherman: Whaddaya got there Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Sherman, this is a Presidential Decision Directive.

Sherman: A Presidential Derision Invective? It looks like a piece of paper to me!

Mr. Peabody: No, Sherman, I said this is a PRESIDENTIAL DECISION DIRECTIVE. It is an edict, a proclamation, a mandate written by the president and binding upon each and every American. It is written on paper in this example, and hence you are correct, but today it could just as easily be stored on some alternate data medium.

Sherman: Mr. Peabody, are you saying that the president can just write something down and we all have to obey it?

Mr. Peabody: Yes Sherman, that is EXACTLY what I am saying. We all are subject to the unilateral legislative whims and muses of a single politician, bound by laws enforced by foreign U.N. soldiers, laws whose existence we are mostly unaware of due to their classified nature.

Sherman: But Mr. Peabody! Isn't that the very definition of TYRANNY?

Mr. Peabody: Very good, Sherman, you remembered your Thomas Jefferson.

Sherman: But I don't get it Mr. Peabody, if we don't know about the law, how can we be subject to it?

Mr. Peabody: Ignorance of the law is no excuse, Sherman.

Sherman: But if the law is clasified, you couldn't find out about it if you wanted to, could you, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Well, Sherman, you could obtain an unclassified executive summary of the Presidential Decision Directive, (PDD, if you will) if you wrote your congressman for one, and if he would send it to you.

Sherman: But you still wouldn't know exactly what the PDD said, would you Mr. Peabody? I wrote executive summaries for school and I know they never go into detail.

Mr. Peabody: Sherman, I am so proud of you I could just lick your nose!

Sherman: So are we going to see Thomas Jefferson in the WAYBACK machine today? Is that why we're talking about Presidential Decision Directives, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: No, Sherman. I am afraid that if we were to show Tom Jefferson a Presidential Decision Directive, particularly THIS ONE, that he might grab his trusty musket and pistols and fire upon our leaders.

Sherman: Which PDD IS that one you're holding, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: This is PDD-25, Sherman. The MOTHER of all Presidential Decision Directives- the most treasonous and blasphemous treachery ever inflicted on the United States, and the most classified.

Sherman: Bu-but what does it SAY, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Well Sherman, basically it commits our entire armed services to the evil world government and lays the foundation for confiscating the arms of the American people.

Sherman: That was one of Clinton's PDD's, right, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: You are correct Sherman. Signed in the summer of 1994.

Sherman: Is that where we're going today, Mr. Peabody? Back to 1994?

Mr. Peabody: No, Sherman, there wouldn't be much point in going back there...

Sherman: Well, where ARE we going today, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Sherman, set the WAYBACK machine to April 25th, 1998.

Sherman: But Mr. Peabody! That was less than a month ago!

Mr. Peabody: Never mind THAT, Sherman, just do it.

Sherman: But what are we gonna DO there, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: You'll see, Sherman, now just set the WAYBACK.

Voiceover (Mr. Peabody): Obediantly, the brave boy did as he was told, and quicker than you can say "I feel your pain," we were transported to Saturday, April 25th. What Sherman did not know was that the lottery was up to 40 million dollars that week, and nobody won it. I was about to change all that by purchasing a ticket with the numbers I knew would be drawn. Once back to last month, I did purchase the ticket and a pack of cigarettes, knowing that the price would go up on the 26th. Sherman was upset with me for this but I snarled at him and he minded me. We proceeded from the foreign-owned convenience store to the White House lawn, and keeping a respectful distance, as we were knowledgeable about surveillance, I began to bark.

Sherman: What are you barking for Mr. Peabody?


Sherman: Mr. Peabody! What are you barking about?


Sherman: I don't get it Mr. Peabody. We only went back a month, and all we did was buy a lotto ticket, and now you're barking at the White House? What's this all about?

Mr. Peabody: I'm trying to save Buddy's nuts.

Sherman: Buttnuts? What's buttnuts?

Mr. Peabody: Not buttnuts, Sherman, BUDDY'S NUTS. Buddy is the Clinton's new dog. On Monday the Clintons are going to have him castrated.

Sherman: They're gonna cut off his BALLS?

Mr. Peabody: That's right, unless we do something to stop it.

Sherman: But what can WE do, Mr. Peabody? I don't think Buddy can even hear you.

Voiceover (Mr. Peabody):Alas, the boy was right. All seemed lost for Buddy's nuts, just as it seems lost for this great Republic. But just at this moment Providence blessed us with the miracle we needed. Off in the distance we could see a Secret Service agent emerging from the White House with Buddy on a leash. It was walk time for the doomed fellow, and though he was within earshot, I feared for Sherman's safety when my plan went into action. Desperately trying to figure out a way to pull this off, I instructed Sherman to unfurl a banner I had brought for this occasion. The banner said:


...and as it unfurled, Sherman was quickly beset upon by jackbooted thugs. In the meelee that followed I was able to warn Buddy of the evil intentions of his master and suggested a few things he might do to get even. I especially encouraged him to piss on any papers he might see in the Oval Office and to crap on the floor directly under the president's desk. The poor hurt and confused canine was only too willing to jerk his master after hearing what I had told him. He departed with a respectful wave of his paw and a serious nod- and I knew, I knew it would be all right. Sherman, however, had been beaten to unconsciousness and left to bleed on Pennsylvania Avenue. Quicker than you can say, "Bite my shorts" I clamped my teeth first into the posterior of one agent and then the other. The satisfying rip of trouser and the squishy succulence of buttskin only enhanced the experiences of the next few minutes. I felt like a dog again, gnashing, biting and growling. Soon the agents left and Sherman and I went back to May 13th to collect my lottery winnings.

Sherman: What're ya gonna do with all the money, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Well, for starters, Sherman, we're going to upgrade the WAYBACK and fix that Y2K problem.

Sherman: Then what, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: Then, Sherman, we're going to buy some guns, some food, some water, and some gold.

Sherman: You're starting to sound like an extremist, Mr. Peabody?

Mr. Peabody: I am an extemist, Sherman -- I am EXTREMELY concerned for your future, I am EXTREMELY jealous for my liberty and yours. I am EXTREMELY committed to this Republic and I am EXTREMELY devoted to the God of Abraham. I must be an EXTREMIST where TRUTH is concerned, and where people's lives are at stake. And God help me Sherman, I will make you an extremist too.

Sherman: Oh I wouldn't worry about THAT Mr. Peabody.

Voiceover (Mr. Peabody): "And why is that, Sherman?" I asked, and the boy proudly turned to show me the militia patch on his new cammies. My heart pounded with pride and joy as he demonstrated his marksmanship with a variety of weapons and tears came to my eyes when he showed me his reserve food supply, including a one year supply of MIGHTY MUTT dog food, in a stunning variety of flavors. The young lad who had accompanied me through so much history was about to embark on the most historical phase of America's existence. Neither of us knew what the end of us would be, but we rolled in the grass and laughed and I even chased a stick for him, something I rarely deem appropriate -- but this time it was good just to be there, to be free, and to know that no matter what, this fight was won already with boys like Sherman on our side.

(c) Ed Parker 1998.

Previous Top Next

Wolf Tracks

| The Lodge | Claire's Books | CW Essays | CW Sillies | Patricia Neill | Friends
| Bookstore | Reviews | Literature | Sound-Off Archive | Den | Links |

If you find anything awry at this site,
please contact the Web Tender.

21 May, 1998