The Hundredth Meridian

Trench Warfare

War talk was running high when they threw the loaded packs in back of the Gold Pony and left Flagstaff, headed north across the Navajo Reservation.  Television and the newspapers had nothing to say about anything except the towering evil of Hubbub Ihnssain, while National Public Radio had suspended All Things Considered to concentrate on One Big Thing: Even the scandal of the Christian broadcasting stations had been temporarily set aside.  And the President of the United States was appearing almost hourly in the Rose Garden with the rock band Bombs ’n’ Roses by his side to proclaim that Hubbub was the Antichrist come to earth.  To the Three Amigos, it seemed the right time to get out of Dodge and down into the Big Ditch.

On the way across the reservation, Tob drove carefully to avoid running over sleeping Navajos taking time-out from celebrating the coming war.  At the Monument Point trailhead above the North Rim, Mr. Peanut’s green Chevrolet pickup truck with the Park Service decals on the doors stood parked.  Mr. Peanut was a girl ranger from the Bronx named Doreen who had the perfect peanut shape, though lacking the top hat, cane, and monocle.  “She’d look good with the top hat in addition to her pack,” Cor said.  “If she could carry a pack, I mean.”

From Monument Point, they had a view into the tangled green depths of Tapeats...

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