“Hey there sheriff, reds again today? You know you should quit, these are probably the worst for you.”
The owner of the liquor store remarked to the newly appointed sheriff as he did almost every morning since he became sheriff. The store owners name was Mark Clemenych and he was a 3rd generation Polish man in his late 50’s who opened his liquor store there in Carson City, Nevada with the aid of a small business loan. Mark thought it odd and a little grotesque that the new sheriff was the only working man in town that didn’t start his day with coffee, instead the sheriff opted to jump start his morning with 2 packs of Marlboro Reds. Even stranger was the fact that he would smoke down near half a pack right there in the store during conversation with mark. It was a luxury Mr. Clemenyche afforded only to the sheriff, what with him being the sheriff and all.
‘I’ll let it slide for him’ he thought, as he would never let anyone else smoke inside his store. ‘Must be a stressful job’ he thought to himself, ‘he needs it. He needs it, he’s friendly enough anyhow.’
“Thanks Mark, gotta go make some rounds.” the sheriff exclaimed as he exited the store.
“Goodbye Sheriff Lenkley” Mark beamed back. He was always somewhat relieved to see that chimney of a man leave his store, not because he didn’t like him, he just didn’t want many other patrons to see the liberty he afforded to Sheriff Lenkley and not to them.
Gonzo had not been in town 2 months when he saw that there was a sheriff position that needed to be filled. ‘Best gig so far’ he thought to himself. So by means of some very slick words , quick-witted speeches, and always cool public appearances, Terrance Lenkley was elected the new sheriff of Carson City. The previous sheriff had retired. The mayor of Carson thought it unusual, when reviewing Terrance Lenkley’s public record, that it seemed that Terrance was a drifter. He drifted from town to town in California and Nevada, never staying more than 5 months in any one place. Nonetheless, the new sheriff boasted an immaculate record in all of the small towns he lived in. That was another thing that struck the mayor queer; Lenkley only settled in rural, small towns, yet at the same time he thought that queer he also figured that for the same reason, Lenkley was best suited for the job since he would be well aware of how small towns like Carson work. Thus, Gonzo and Lenkley were swept into office.
Gonzo couldn’t tell how long ago he had escaped, but he soon found a suitable home in Terrance Lenkley. Well not so much suitable as he was the first human he found. Nevertheless he was perfect. Lenkley had no friends or family, and lived alone in Los Angeles, perhaps the most anonymous city in the world. He was quiet and that was just what Gonzo wanted to be, quiet. Make no waves, cause no ruckus, that was Gonzo’s M.O. Lenkley didn’t travel much, that is, until Gonzo found him. After the two became one they embarked on a city to city tour that found them now as sheriff of Carson City. Along the way Gonzo quietly and intelligently sated his demonic urges by cutting the throats of a few pigs here and there or burning down an old abandoned farm, or one time in Barstow, killing an old hobo. Still he had managed to make no waves. He was doing well thus far. He was confident that as long as he stayed the course, he would never have to go back.