THE LISTERBERG MEDALLION
Wind in the willows, willow the wisp,
everyone is eating ivy. There are cars in
the meadow and sheep in the hall, the
whole town is a frenzy of envy. The
local judge, with his clipboard in hand,
walks silently through the hall.
-
'With all my millions, even I could never
buy my way out of this mess,' the old man
said. He'd been head of this town for decades,
the man with the house on the hill, the one people
went to with trouble. 'Now, I'm afraid, it's over.'
-
'Twenty years back, they finally plowed the
Interstate through here - it seemed to take
forever. We thought we'd never make any money
on that bet, but we did. Though it took a long time.
All those lands and places, we just sold 'em down
the river - knowing full well that once the roadways
came through every little shack would make a bundle.
Strip-malls, pancake restaurants, sports shops, and
more. We're like South of the Border, but north.'
-
'Now some cheap political hack wants to make his
stripes on our backsides - following our every lead,
looking at the paper-trail of every transaction. Boys,
I think we're in trouble deep. These guys today, they'll
rip at your political throat if it will get them a vote - our
old ways of money just won't do. They've got their own.'
-
So, in the annals of sport-defamation, the Listerberg bunch
drew up their plan. A Medallion, to be awarded everywhere -
quite liberally too - local high-school scholars, dancing stars,
returning vets, piano contest champs, oratorical contest winners.
'They can all have a trophy, it gets us good rep.' Everyone
nodded and agreed. They'd liked what they'd just heard.
-
Wind in the willows, willow the wisp,
everyone is eating ivy. There are cars in
the meadow and sheep in the hall, the
whole town is a frenzy of envy. The
local judge, with his clipboard in hand,
walks silently through the hall.
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