The Red Terror

Right now, Hopi in California are talking to an old friend they run into after a long cattle drive to the Gulf shipping town of Fort Texas. He's a tough gray-haired little man named Blonnie Madigan, a former gold miner who struck at Rich and is now living in Fort Texas with his daughter Laurel.

As Blonnie explains, she's been living in the East with her ma'as, she's gone to school and whatnot. to you, John, living like a desert rat, all these years, to call Mr. Cassidy. Well, those days are gone forever, Miss Madigan.

Looks like your dad is a big man in Port Texas. You see, what's this new business you said you was in? This, uh, infro-visio. Mm-hmm, the old impresigner. California O'Reilly Ignoramis. Dad, the Miss O'Bish.

So, Bish, I sure remember all the after-welcome act for the paregent. I'll put you in California saying it might, please, until the time- Hold on, Blaine. No, the bar twenty won't be gone to rack and ruin if you stay over a few more days.

I wish you would, please. Well, you see, we're behind schedule already. Please, you've got to stay. Tonight I'm putting on the greatest fight dish site of the Mississippi. The star event of Medigans Roman, Olina, and Uprihouse.

I got Bombolinate, an audience, barbecue, fighting the one and only red terror. Never heard of it. No, please, I wish you would. You've got to see the red, Jerafy. Nary, your plate is your last, and all inside the one, two round old, Shirey, talky.

We don't have to rush, babe. You think it's important? Very well. Good. Thank you. But just for a day or two, and at our hotel. Oh. But I've told you to... No arguments, Blonnie. Thanks just the same.