The Way I Heard The Story...

These are disturbing times. The signs were everywhere, but most of us refused to really believe them and now are in a kind of shock. This isn't the only weblog that has become very irregular as we all try to regroup and figure out how to survive in the dark times ahead. When times get bad for me, I have the good fortune to hear some good "Coyote Stories", so I might as well share one.

Old Man Coyote told me this story quite a while ago, but it's strange how good stories don't go out of date. Ronald Reagan was still in office in those days, and times were bad, but now they're worse, so I think it's worth retelling. You may not be familiar with "Coyote Stories", but I think you'll get the idea that the characters represent types of behavior, so for instance, "White Man" is not necessarily based on an individual, but a way of thinking and behaving. There really isn't a "moral", and any lesson is up to you. You may have had a different experience, but this is just how I heard the story...

Coyote Gets A Job

Coyote was going along when, suddenly, he met his friend Fox. "My old friend, Coyote! How are you?" Fox inquired in a pleasant way. "I haven't seen you for a long time..."

"Oh, well, not so good. Times have been very hard for me and my family, and I'm afraid they're only getting worse. Our food is gone, and with winter coming on, I don't know what to do. My wife and children will surely starve..."

A look of sympathy crossed Fox's face, and then, after a moment of thought, he inquired, "Why not come and work at White Man's store with me? The work isn't bad and he has always treated me right. Of course, the pay is low. White Man pays me just enough to get by. But I'm eating at least! I know someday I'll get more. Now then, we can only pay you half as much as I make....but that's better than nothing at all!"

The cheerfully optimistic tone Fox used was so convincing that Coyote was swept along by his enthusiasm. Hunger had made him light-headed, and he didn't stop to think before replying, "Great! I'll come to work first thing tomorrow!"

Later, Coyote told his family about the new job, and they wept with joy at their change in fortune. All slept well that night believing the future would be better.

Coyote was at work early the next morning and each morning after that. He worked hard, always doing the best job he could. White Man and Fox seemed to like his efforts, and this gave Coyote greater hope for the days to come. And soon it was time to get paid...

The money was far less than he had hoped for. Coyote, however, was so overjoyed at having any money that he didn't protest when White Man justified the amount, saying, "Sorry...but that's all I can afford to give you. I've got bills, you know."

Coyote spent the money, buying as much food as possible with the little he had been paid. As he trudged home, leaning on his walking stick, a large, flashy car sped by. White Man leaned out from the passenger side and waved a fat hand, smiling in a friendly way.

"See you tomorrow -- make it early! Lots of work to do! We've got..." The rest was lost as the car moved on.
The family ate well that night, and for a few more nights, but after a time food began to run low again. Soon hunger returned. Not so quickly, or as much as before, yet Coyote was starving, getting weaker and weaker with each day.

His family knew of his condition, and secretly began to save what little food there was for Coyote, hoping to keep up his strength so he could continue to work. So each evening they pretended that they had finished their meal before Coyote came home, and the ruse worked well -- for awhile.

Late one day, after dragging himself wearily to his house, Coyote opened the door to find the emaciated bodies of his family, dead of starvation. Now he was both weak and alone, with barely the energy to sustain his grief. Morning came and Coyote returned to work, telling Fox and White Man of the tragedy.

"I'm so sorry for your loss. You had a wonderful wife, and children to be proud of," consoled Fox.

"Yes, a pity...Please feel free to take an extra half-hour for lunch," added White Man. "What a shame, a real shame..." he murmured into the air as he walked away.

Coyote worked that day, hiding his sadness, and in fact working harder to forget it. So the days went on, but each day took a greater and greater effort, as he grew gaunt from hunger. And sometimes he fainted due to his weakened state, but sooner or later Fox would come by, shake him awake, and work would continue.

Then came the day when this happened again, and as Fox discovered Coyote's motionless form, when attempting to rouse him, there was no response. Coyote was dead of starvation and overwork.

Fox continued for a time to prod the skin-and-bones corpse in the desperate hope of some last-minute miracle. Finally, he went to report the incident to White Man, who rushed to the scene in total disbelief.

"This is intolerable...and very inconvenient! I thought you told me you could trust this fellow...There's so much work to do, and no one left to do it!" White Man's growing anger made Fox afraid for his job, and he grasped for the right thing to say.

"Yes, it's really embarrassing! Coyote gave me a commitment. This shows how undependable some people can be! We'll never be able to get anyone else to work for those wages!" Of course, this last problem was the worst. It's so hard to get good people to work for next to nothing.

White Man continued to glower, until an explosion of built-up irritation burst forth. "I invested a lot in this fellow, and I intend to get it back -- somehow!"

He began to scratch his head as he thought aloud, "Now, let's see...how can I profit from this situation?" Muttering to himself unintelligibly, White Man began to pace. The tension became nearly unbearable for Fox. How could even such a one as White Man gain from a lifeless body?

But of course, Fox was underestimating his master. It was White Man's way to gain from any circumstance. He would have turned a profit on his own grandmother if she had been lying there instead -- dead or alive. And this was no different.

"You know, I've got it!" exclaimed White Man. "We'll use that flea-bitten pelt to make a rug...a nice coyote-skin throw rug. I'll bet I can make a few bucks on something like that!"

He started dancing around with delight, instantly relieving Fox's fears. "Go and get the Crow Boys. They're the right ones for this job! I want that rug made up and finished by tomorrow!"

Fox set out to search for the Crow Boys, that brother team of rug-makers...probably the best in town. He looked in all the usual places, their favorite loafing spots, and after some difficulty, found them relaxing in the back of one of the warehouses, drinking beer and already half drunk.

"Hey, get on your feet, you two lazy, good-for-nothing drunkards!" Fox demanded, shaking the brothers. "Our old friend, Coyote, has died!"

For one brief moment as he said this, a look of sadness crossed Fox's face, but coming to his senses, and snapping himself back into the real world, he said, "The important thing is that White Man wants you to skin the body and make up a nice, expensive rug, and he needs it by tomorrow!"

Weaving from side to side, the brothers attempted to focus their little blood-shot eyes on the form that seemed to be in constant motion in front of them, and only occasionally looked like Fox.

"Whatever White Man wants!" they chorused. "Just tell him we'll need a lot more beer. Rug-making is a hot and thirsty business!"

The Crow Boys began to gather their tools, and Fox ran off to fetch the beer. He knew they'd had enough, but if he kept them happy long enough to finish White Man's rug, then he'd be happy too. Luckily, White Man kept a refrigerator full of cheap beer which he used to lull his employees into believing that he was treating them right. And this always worked with the brothers, who were happy as long as the beer flowed, and often forgot to ask for pay. Fox soon returned with a six-pack and saw the two beside Coyote's body, taking measurements in a bumbling way, sometimes repeating the same measurement two or three times without realizing it. Finally, with a handful of scribbled notes, they walked back to their work bench, each grabbing a new beer.

"...'S gonna make a great rug!" one of them slurred loudly, reaching into their toolbox to retrieve a carpet-cutting knife. The other brother found a wicked little knife to match, and they approached Coyote's body again.

The razor blades of the two knives pierced Coyote's body almost simultaneously. And the same moment brought to the brothers' ears a sharp, wailing cry. Next, startled by words intoned in a very angry voice, they dropped the knives to look around in terror.

"Hey!! What do you drunken feather-heads think you're doing? I may look dead to you, but I'm not so dead that I can't feel a couple of idiots hacking away at my skin! I'm really mad now!"

With this, Coyote's limp form began to draw itself up in a fluid motion, slowly, inch by inch, until the body was fully erect. Signs of life began to appear...irritated twitchings of the tail, a bristling of the hair, and spasms of anger that crossed his face like angry waves driven by a storm of emotion.

"Coyote, don't be mad! We thought you were dead! White Man and Fox told us to make you into a rug. We would have never done such a thing while you were living! Don't be angry!" pleaded the Crow Boys in unison.

An intense rage glowed in the once-dead eyes of Coyote, and this was not at all a reassuring sign to the frightened brothers. His lips curved into a sneering snarl as he said, "Yes, I've allowed things to go far enough, and now is the time to make them right..."

"Please...our dear old friend..." the brothers squawked. "Have a beer and calm down!"

And along with the thoughts of revenge and swift justice that filled Coyote's mind, something greater had begun to stir within him as well -- hunger. The hunger that he had known for days and days without relief was now almost uncontrollable as life flowed back into him. Before him was the answer, the Crow Boys.

In an instant he snatched them,one in each hand. As he held them aloft by their skinny necks, the brothers' feet kicked wildly in the air. A quick motion of his wrists and it was over, the twins' necks neatly snapped.
Minutes later, remains of the two crows lay half-eaten on the floor, and Coyote reclined on a box with a full stomach, the first in a very long time. After a while, he hummed a little song as he knelt and began to wrap the left-overs in some old newspaper.

"Coyote, what have you done?" Fox demanded as he rushed in and saw spatters of blood everywhere. Then noticing the Crow Boys absence, he inquired hysterically, "What's that you're packing up there? Not the Crow Boys! White Man will have a fit when he finds out his best ruggers are gone, and there's no rug to boot! You know how he hates to lose money...Oh, and by the way, it's good to see you alive again, old friend..."

Fox continued to sputter and stammer, fretting nervously, and dancing around in his peculiar excited way. Coyote gazed at him calmly and without expression. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be so foolish. He had trusted Fox because he had been a respected friend, but only a simpleton viewed life with eyes turned to the past, instead of seeing the reality of the present. This was not really his old friend, but what his old friend had become. Fox had sold himself to White Man, and so too had Coyote, but only for a time!

Coyote couldn't bring himself to even be angry with Fox. His future as White Man's servant would be dismal enough punishment for his misdeeds. As for his master, well, he was just White Man and nothing would ever change him or make his ways any better. That's why they call him White Man.

A smile touched Coyote's lips as he thought of the ironic twists his life had taken. He had become White Man's pawn, and been victimized, but now his eyes were open and his stomach was full (at the Crow Boys' expense!) In fact, he still had enough to help him get by on the road ahead. Yes, he had been fooled, but he wasn't being fooled now.

"That's why they call me Coyote!"