“Lassie Stars in Revenge of the Parrotheads!”

“Lassie Stars in Revenge of the Parrotheads!”

By Stephanie Smith

The sun shone bright in Asheville, North Carolina as I lay in my hammock listening to Jimmy Buffett and enjoying a tasty Margarita. “Ahhh,” I sighed to myself with relaxed satisfaction, “What a day! I guess I’ll head up to the bar soon to see what everyone else is up to.” But before I could move, a glint of light caught my eye and I looked up to see my dear old dog Lassie kicking up trash as she charged down the hill toward my basement apartment.

“Bark bark bark bark bark!” Lassie barked.

“What’s that Lassie? Trouble at the Old Margaritaville?” I interpreted with surprising ease.

“Bark bark!”

“What’s that Lassie? The Harrowen Brothers purchased the mayor’s seat and installed a loyalist because they want to open their own island resort style restaurant so they’re targeting Margaritaville with punitive taxes to force it out of business?”

“Bark!”

“And Jimmy Buffett refuses to pay the taxes so the Harrowen Brothers have hired a mercenary death squad of developers from out of town to level the entire building?”

“Bark bark bark!” Lassie answered and took off the way she came.

My margarita flew out of my hand as I leaped from my hammock to race after her up the hill and down the street. We ran through neighborhoods and patches of woods, remnants of an ancient forest. As Lassie and I ascended a hill, I saw a group of Parrotheads standing between the Margaritaville cafe and a line of excavators, bulldozers, and backhoes. A peaceful and prominent Parrothead named Chester brandished a bullhorn as a mustachioed, cigar-chomping developer whipped a heavy chain in his direction. Chester deftly avoided the chain as he guided the others to encircle the construction vehicles. Soon the Parrotheads formed a human chain around the powerful machines.

The developers consulted with one another before one returned to his bulldozer and plowed through the line, injuring several protesters. The shocked crowd exploded in rage and the peaceful demonstration transformed into a righteous riot. I spotted my good friend Stephanie, a transsexual Parrothead and true believer in the fight against the billionaire elite.

“Peter-man!” She hollered as she handed me a heavy sledgehammer. We joined in the crush of armed Parrotheads attacking the front door of the Harrowen Enterprises office, which stood just doors away from Margaritaville. As the crowd hit repeatedly against the tower, Lassie reappeared, seemingly from nowhere, zigzagging through the dense mass of Parrotheads and disappearing again through a newly formed crack in the barricades. The crowd cheered her on and pulsated even more violently, its various tools of demolition finally victorious. We charged up the stairs to the c-suite, ready to drag the Harrowen Brothers into the street and slaughter them French Revolution style but were instead shocked to find Lassie eating the throats of several billionaires while their toadies leaped from windows to avoid a grislier fate at the hands of Lassie or the mob.

Lassie, her fur soaked in the blood of our oppressors, appeared in the window. The crowd of Parrotheads below cheered as the developers fled in their bulldozers, a shower of sledgehammers following them down the street. Soon the Parrotheads occupied the building completely and from the highest window unfurled their battle flag, emblazoned with a drunken parrot crying our battle cry, “It's five o'clock somewhere!” Jubilation filled the streets as banks and police cars burned.

In the midst of the commotion, I noticed one of the Harrowen Brothers groaning on the floor, barely alive. I kneeled down next to the dying titan.

“Wow. Wasting away again in—”

“Shut the fuck up hippie scum,” he spit out the words through gritted teeth.

“Hm. Really makes you think.”

“Lick my shit you fucking ass smeller.”

Then he breathed his last breath and died in a pool of his own blood and vomit. As his life left his eyes, Lassie ran up to me and licked my face, smearing blood across my cheek.

“Aw Lassie,” I laughed, “I love you!”

“Bark bark bark bark bark!”

The End

Stephanie Smith is a transsexual parrothead living in North Carolina. She has been published in Imposter Review, Discount Guillotine, and elsewhere. You can find her on Instagram: @scorpionfoss