The ladies of Crooked Lake, Indiana hatched a plan they thought would shame their husbands into stop playing cards so often and stay home more but instead instigated a melee never seen before in that quiet town.
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When Marshall Wilson entered the card parlor he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The place was a shambles and most of the men were now n the floor kicking and scratching each other. All the strangely clad women were hunched up in a corner–all except for Minnie Billings who had entered the fray trying to pull Claude Baxton off her husband. She had a black eye, blood was trickling from her nose, she had someone’s hair in her mouth and her left breast had completely escaped the confines of her blouse. Jim Carr fell on top of her.
“Git off’n my woman,” Hank snarled.
“I ain’t on her ‘zactly, Henry,” Jim gasped. “It’s more like she’s under me. I stumbled over her, dammit.”
Billy Wilson removed his .38 police special and calmly fired one shot into the air. It was a near mortal wound to Chippy’s ceiling as a huge chunk of plaster fell squarely onto Joyce Millet’s feathery tiara rendering her oblivious to the goings on for several minutes. Moreover, it disturbed a mouse that had been resting between the rafters and it fell amongst the ladies and began scampering about their feet. They began hopping and high stepping better than anything seen at the dance hall before it burned down. They shrieked and screamed until Billy cranked off another round–this time into the floor.
“Ever’body shut th’ fuck up. I’m about to talk.” The gun-shy mouse disappeared, the room quieted down and peace was about to be restored in Crooked Springs. “Alright, gentlemen, disentangle yoreselves, find and upright a chair and sit yorese’f down facin’ me. Missus Minnie, kindly tuck yorese’f in–yore nightie has slipped down some–and go to yonder corner with the other ladies.” He looked over at me. “Kenny, can you drive?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, eager to be of grown-up help. “Been drivin’ since I was ‘leven.”
“Take my car and run on out to Larry Butler’s and tell him to bring his school bus here on the double. Tell him it’s official city business, y’hear?”
“Yes, sir.” Mr. Butler was close with his money. He cancels his telephone service during the summer months and turns it back on when school starts.
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