Tales from Hogwaller Holler: Moonshine, Pt. 5

© 2018 by Walter Reimer


Certain of the settings and characters in this story are supplied by E.O. Costello. Thanks!


5.


I hear tell that overseas, out around England way, they’ve got a game called cricket. I hear that it’s sort of like baseball, but isn’t. Little confusing, if you ask me; they do funny things out there in foreign parts. Reason I’m talking about cricket is the rules. From what I hear, cricket’s got a lot of rules. So many, in fact, that no one’s ever read ‘em all.

Now, before you start thinking that I’m going to start talking about baseball – I’m a Louisville Racers fan myself – we’re talking about rules. The State Legislature, I tell you, has a lot of rules, and there hasn’t been any attempt to trim them back. They just grow like kudzu, and that’s hard to put in its place.

And you might be wondering why I’m talking about the State representatives so much. What about the Senate? Well, the Senate’s mostly Regulars, and the Mavericks in there are so old they might as well be Regulars. About cornered the local market for prune juice, if you know what I mean.

Let’s get back to the story now. Recall I said that the House has 301 members, with 285 seats filled and the court figuring out who won those open seats? Well, I’m about to use one of them big words, and that word’s quorum. It works like this: If you got a hundred furs, a quorum would be fifty furs, plus one, see what I mean?

The problem with the representatives, then, was this quorum nonsense. The rules said that a quorum was 160 furs. The Regulars had 146 seats, which means that to get anything done, they had to get sixteen Mavericks to side with them.

May as well try herding feral cats, it’ll be about as easy.

The next day’s session was about to start and Calder and Bill took their seats. Because they were the only two independents, they ended up way at the back of the place, which is sort of like a big old room with two big areas with rows of chairs and desks. Aisles on either side and down the middle, with the Speaker’s place at the far end. It’s not like the one up in Washington, you see; if you’re a short fellow and you’re at the back, you won’t be able to see too well. Got a high ceiling, ‘cause the press and visitors got to sit somewhere.

The press box was full, because the news had hit that the State Supreme Court had decided one election, a win and a gain for the Regulars. A lot of visitors had shown up, too, expecting a fight. They usually weren’t disappointed, either.

So the Chaplain steps up and gives the House a prayer, and quite a few members said “Amen” when he was done, including Bill and Calder. The tabby steps aside, and the old hound who’s standing in for the Speaker gets up. See, there’s no actual Speaker, because the House can’t get one chosen till all the seats are filled.

Rules.

The hound bangs the gavel and says, “Gentlemen,” and he has to pause because someone blew him a raspberry, “Gentlemen, the Chair requests a motion to seat the new member for Crystal Falls – “

“No quorum!” one of the Mavericks shouts, and there’s a few furs up in the visitor’s gallery muttering and groaning. The Mavericks have been doing something like this the past few days. Saying that there’s no quorum means that the roll gets called, and then they don’t answer up when their names’re called. It’s a low thing to do, when they’re sitting right there, but the Regulars do it too.

Just then Bill sees Calder stand up, and in a voice that carries all the way to the front of the hall he says, “I beg t’be recognized.”

The hound was about to start the roll, and he peers through his glasses at the opossum. He gets a look on his muzzle like he’s just bit into a sour cherry and he says, “The Chair recognizes the Member from Hogwaller Holler.” A few members give each other the eye; Calder ain’t said much in the past ten years.

“I wish to remind the Chair of House Rule one forty-three.” That causes the Speaker to cock an eye at the parliamentarian, who starts looking through the books. The rest of the members, well they just look confused.

Calder, he just smiles. “That Rule, gentlemen, says that if the House has been UN-able to do the peoples’ business for ten days, an im-PARTIAL arbiter will take over as Speaker.” His tail gives a little swish, and he says, “Today’s day number eleven, if anyone’s keepin’ track.” That causes a few visitors to laugh, but you should’ve seen the press.

Looks like someone’s run an electric wire under their chairs. Even the old skunk from the Sun’s sitting up and paying attention.

Finally the parliamentarian shows the right page to the Speaker, and he fiddles with his glasses and reads it. He looks back at Calder, and now he isn’t looking like he’s been eating sour cherries, he looks like he just had his mouth washed out with kerosene. He gives a big sigh and says, “Will the Member step forward and take the Chair?”

“I thank you kindly,” old Calder says, and he starts up the middle aisle. A few of the members, on either side of the aisle, talk to him in passing, and what they say isn’t complimentary judging from the set of the opossum’s ears and the way he’s holding his tail. Finally he gets up there, and he gives that old hound a little bow as he gives over the gavel.

Calder takes his position behind the podium and hefts that gavel like he wants to use it on someone’s head. He raps for order and says, “Under th’ Rules of th’ House, GENTLE-men, a quorum’s needed to get any business done.” He catches Bill’s eye at the back of the hall, and the white-tailed deer starts doing what he’s been told to do.

“Accordin’ to th’ Rules,” Calder says, “a quorum’s established by what’s called a VEE-voh VOH-chay vote, an’ without any trouble from a certain OTHER Party – “ he paused as a few furs laughed “ – to IM-pede matters, I say there’s a quorum here, an’ I’LL call the names.” He puts on his glasses and starts calling the names of all the Mavericks. “Mister Adelson, Mister Albert, Mister . . . “

And you’d be thinking that that old opossum had dropped a feral ferret right into a feral rabbit hutch, ‘cause those Mavericks start in yelling and foaming at the mouth, madder’n anyone’s seen them since the Great War, so I’m told.

Still Calder’s going on, steady as a rock, calling the roll. “Mister Cahill, Mister Cardona, Mister Carson, Mister Dale – “

That chipmunk’s standing on his desk, and he shouts, “I defy the Chair to say I’m present!”

The House goes dead quiet, and Calder looks up. "Son, the Chair’s makin’ a statement o’ fact that th’ gentleman from Kettlesburg is present.” He fixes the chipmunk with a glare. “You DE-nyin’ it?"

I’m told the laughter was a mighty wind that blew Mister Dale right back into his seat, and old Calder just starts up again, calling out names, and a few of the Mavericks decide that it’s time to take like an early lunch. A few of them bolt for the doors.

But Bill’s been busy, while Calder’s been keeping the Members busy. The ones who’re trying to run discover that the buck’s locked the doors.

And that really sets them off.

Furs are calling poor Calder, and Bill, everything but children of God, using language ain’t been heard since the Blue and the Gray were at it. A few of them single out Bill, but while he might be unsteady on his hooves, there’s nothing wrong with his fists. At least one fellow collected a black eye.

“Mister Williams of Springdale, Mister Williams of Springfield . . . and Mister Wolfson.” A hush falls over the crowd, and Calder straightens up, and I’m told that the light of battle was in his eyes.

“The Chair de-CLARES that there is a quorum, accordin’ to the Rules – AND the Constitution,” he thunders, like a stem-winding preacher at a tent meeting. He bangs the gavel and says, “Will th’ gentlemen kindly take their seats, an’ we’ll seat th’ newest Member.”



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