SWITCHBLADE TRAVIS

 

PART ONE: WELCOME TO THE WEST

The Wild West. The Statue of Cowboys and cattle. Everything had become modernized. Once- small towns had been turned into big, raging cities. General stores became corporate shopping  malls. Cafes and diners transformed into fast food restaurants and big-name burger joints. Ranch homes were changed into busy neighborhoods. Hardworking farms and ranches were destroyed in the name of change and corruption. This was the case for ninety-nine percent of the United States of America. Ever since the nineteen-sixties had come and gone, the country lifestyle had been in a state of danger. It had become like an endangered animal, barely surviving and rarely thriving. Some places were safe from the cement skyscrapers and office jobs, but some was not enough in most places. People always said that social hierarchies disappear, but it seemed as if the citified kingdoms were too strong for in-debt farms and failing crops. Places that had been thriving with cattle and fencing were now covered in busy streets and slummy neighborhoods. Almost everywhere had been stolen by the city life, but that was not the case for a small country town who kept defying odds of destruction, day by day, minute by minute. It happened to be located in the last remaining country place: Bullsnake, Texas. Even though it seemed like there was no light in the tunnel, complete darkness had not yet taken over the tunnel of corporate lies and suffering.

PART TWO: CASTAWAY COWBOY

In Bullsnake, the town kept going strong thanks to a big inheritance and one man with his animal companions. Many people would be quick to think that the town of Bullsnake thrived upon its large population and lawyers. Yes, it used to be full of hardworking farmers, housewives, and pickup trucks. Everyone said that once the corporate economies made their move, this town would become nothing but a waste of time. Everyone left town and accepted their sad city lives except for one man, who was holding onto his way of life for as long as possible: Travis Smith. A six-foot-six country boy with brown hair slicked back so tight his hairline rose three inches, his dark tan wide-brimmed felt cowboy hat on top, covering every single lock of hair. He wore midnight black suede square toe boots and a pair of worn out blue jeans with a light grey button up shirt tucked in by a brass belt buckle so shiny that it caused a glare to anyone who looked at it. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbow and full of holes. A brown handlebar mustache lined tired lips that were stuck in a frown. Right above his mustache, a crooked nose and tired eyes completed the face of a worn out cowboy. Beneath all of the buttons and boots remained a tired soul, too weary to work. Ranching had become the only form of freedom and income for Travis, who was left in charge by his grandfather to keep the cities from taking the town. Apart from the ranch, Travis' grandpa also left ten million dollars in cash to pay things off just in case. Well, the time came pretty quickly to use that money, and it was surprisingly too little to get anything fully paid off. The land was being taxed heavily due to Travis being the only one around. The land tax alone was causing Travis to be more in-debt than ever before, racking up two hundred million dollars of debt. The only thing Travis could do about the debt was pretend not to be in it. It also did not help that Travis spent one-hundred-twenty-five thousand dollars on six horses. This was more or less a pity buy, for Travis had almost nothing to satisfy his happiness. That was a year ago, and most people think that with all of the new people coming in, demand would be high for dairy products and meat. That would be wrong, as the new city lifestyle included vegan diets, fake meat, and almond milk. Life was hard.

PART THREE: LONESOME LIFE

ravis used to live in a one bedroom house on Barnhouse Mesa, right next to the brightly colored sign which proudly displayed the Name of Bullsnake. Now, he would be considered a nomad. Sleep had escaped Travis, who was tired and consumed by his once-flying pride. His home was now a two person tent in the lonesome and high country. The only supply of water came from the banks of the Whip River, where the Dog Willow grows. Travis knew he didn't fit. At this point, the only way to fit in was to become a citified low-life who ate plants and wore beanies on a hot day. Though Travis had no mailing address or permanent home, he still found letters in his tent. He had no family, friends, or anyone to turn to. The only people who could reach him was the IRS. The letters were enclosed in a bright yellow envelope and were only letters of foreclosure. Travis chuckled at the letters every time he received them. He thought to himself, "What are they going to foreclose on? A tent? I've got nothing to lose." Travis only chuckled when he was stressed, which happened to be all of the time nowadays. He knew exactly what they wanted: The land. If the government got their hands on it, fast-food places and shopping malls would replace the once-thriving wooden stables and animals. Travis had not seen his Australian cattle dog, Charley, in three days. He was okay with Charley being alone, due to the fact that Charley was accepted as a member of the herd with Travis' cattle. Charley and the cattle had a small red barn filled with hay to keep them safe. Travis wanted to see him, but there was only one issue: Travis' sense of direction had walked out when a skyscraper was built less than a mile from Bullsnake. As a way of getting to where he was going, Travis would rely on his inevitably bad luck and gut instinct. The only way of transportation was by walking on foot, since every horse Travis had was in a stable in a location which Travis had forgotten. Despite all of this, Travis went on his way with no food or water, wearing beaten up clothing in ninety degree heat without his tent.

PART FOUR: UP IN FLAMES

As Travis took his first steps toward a journey which might kill him, the dirt echoed around the area of his feet like a tsunami. Travis walked for eight hours straight before falling weary in the cold dirt, laying on his back, staring up at the night sky, and falling asleep. He woke up a couple hours later to the smell of burning wood. He quickly got up on his feet, though they hurt terribly and felt numb. After rubbing his eyes for a few seconds, he swiftly followed the aroma of fire and was lead to a burning stable, full of animals screaming in fear and and distress. From that moment on, time slowed down, even though the event seemed to happen all so fast. Ember by ember, plank by plank, the barn kept coming down. Just then, Charley appeared with three cows and a horse. How they got out, Travis hadn't a clue. Maybe a hole burned through the back of the barn, or a cow charged through. Either way, the animals that got out were safe, and the ones that didn't, well, they went to see cattle Jesus. A minute later, rain came and washed over the burnt barn. Travis came out of the mist and into the downpour, letting the rain fall over him, but it could not wash away his shame. He could let Whip River take him, but Travis knew he would not get away. He could ask the river for advice, but the rapid, flowing water just won't say all it knows.

Men can think that they will forget about what used to be, but Travis always thought otherwise. He watched people run from the law, from death, and from life, but Travis knew that he could spend a lifetime running and he would never get away. As Travis knew all too well, Mother Nature was the biggest enemy anyone could have. Travis said out of frustration, "You know you're screwed when even big momma Nature hates you. It's hated me my whole life, but this, well this is a different kind of hate." Travis could not do anything except let the sorrowful raindrops shower the smoking barn. Water dripped down the brim of Travis' soaked hat, leaving a rainy and depressed mood. Travis stood there in the downpour, which smelled of sorrow and trouble. Even though Travis had come across money so long ago, that money turned out to never be enough. Inflation and the moves of society from meat eating to plant based foods have knocked out Travis from the world, leaving him on his own. Travis then worked through the rainy night, building a pen using scrap wood from the burnt barn. Once the animals were in the pen, Travis collapsed and fell asleep. The rain poured endlessly for about three days, leaving Travis soaking wet and the ground drenched with an aroma of hopelessness and despair. Travis looked at Charley and spoke. "Charley, some days I wanna paint things blue, and other days I have got to brave the storm, but what do you do when that storm has been attacking you your whole life? At first, you roll up your window to stop the water from coming in. By then, it's already too late to seek shelter. A droplet turns into a cloud, then that cloud turns into a full on tsunami. You can do nothing except grab your raincoat and hope for the best. That tsunami has struck again, this time in the form of fire and endless rain. Before you know it, the storm wreaks havoc on your life and chooses to take everything from you. I nearly lost you and my livelihood. That won't happen again. Let's go fight." Charley looked lovingly with puppy eyes at Travis before he walked towards the city with a brave cowboy.

PART FIVE: COURTHOUSE

It seemed as if Travis gained back his sense of direction when walking with Charley. After all, a dog is man's best friend. For two days, Travis and Charley were on the move in the Texas solitude. They stopped to drink dirty water in nearly dried-out ponds along the way with nothing to eat. Once they got to the city, a black sedan pulled up alongside Travis. Travis knew he was out of place, due to the fact that he was the only one wearing a cowboy hat and smelling like sweat, blood, and heartache. A man wearing a beige suit hopped out of the car and told Travis to get in. When Travis declined, the man showed a monotone expression and threw Travis into the backseat of the sedan before knocking him unconscious and restraining his hands. The man looked at Charley before getting in the car and driving off, leaving Charley stranded in a dangerous city. It seemed like hours, but it had only been minutes. When Travis finally woke up, he was surrounded by cement blocks and a small window with his hands still bound. The same man walked to the window and told Travis to step out of the cell. As the man opened the cell door, Travis felt that he had been done wrong. In life, you can never go back and redo the mistakes. What's done is done. At this point, Travis knew he could not escape from reality like he used to. He could not just get on a horse and ride off into the wilderness, never returning to what he did not like. Travis thought to himself, "I wanna go home, but I am home. I wanna be free, but I am free. If that's what freedom feels like, then that's sad." He was walked down a dark corridor and led into a room full of despise and evil. The courtroom was silent as everyone, including the judge, who looked upon Travis with hateful eyes and a disgusted face. No lawyer was present for the noble cowboy, who had his hope drained out of him like rain going down a sewer drain. Travis looked at the judge and asked him, "Why am I here?" The judge glared at Travis before speaking. "I will ask the questions, you dirty hick. See, you are here because you are simply not like the rest of us. You have no room here. The big, strong, noble cowboy wants to defend himself. Come on. Let us see just how noble you really are. Tell us your story, and we might let you walk." Travis gulped and spoke. "I did not do a thing. If I did commit a crime, I'm not sorry. I will not let my soul be harnessed by plant-munchers. I plead the fifth." The judge signaled for security to take Travis away. The judge spoke. "The fifth? That's not a thing anymore, hick. You walked into my world without permission. You are hurting animals. Speaking of animals, your dog, we let him loose. He is now free to roam wherever he chooses. If you want to eat, you can eat some plant-based meat. The last thing I need is for a yeehaw redneck covered in dirt to come waltzing into my town like he owns the place. Got it? Get out of my sight." Security escorted Travis back down the corridor, pushed him back into the small cell, and placed down a tiny plate of fake meat onto the cold cement floor. 

PART SIX: THE GREAT ESCAPE

Travis not dare touch that fake meat. As of right now, Travis wanted out. Out of a confined space and into his own world. He looked around for a way to escape, and at last, he found it. That window happened to be the only barrier between him and the outside world. Travis suddenly remembered that the fake meat freaks did not take his property. He still had everything. His hat, boots, and shirt were still on and his pockets were still full. Not that many people in general used pockets nowadays. Pocket use was now frowned upon in this cruel and confusing world for whatever reason. Anyway, Travis dug into the left back pocket of his old worn out jeans and pulled out a shiny switchblade knife. He thought, "If only I could edge this between the window frame, and even then, it would be hard to fit through. Well, it's the only shot I've got at escaping." Just as Travis was stepping closer to the window, the cell door flew open and a short, white, buff man emerged in the doorway. He motioned for Travis to follow him, and Travis had no choice but to oblige, having stuffed the switchblade slyly in his sleeve. After walking down many corridors and hearing nothing but silence as the two men walked around, full of click-clacks from Travis' boots and mystery in the air, they finally entered a dark room with an open door at one end and chains from the other end. The mysterious man motioned for travis to walk toward the middle of the room. Travis obliged and spoke. " Who are you? Where are we?" The mystery man spoke. " My name is Stephen Brock-Myers." The lights flicked on with a flash as Stephen kept speaking. " I am the key to those chains or your ticket to freedom. Now, focus up. The beautiful dog, Charley, I know him now. Still got a few years in him." Travis scoffed and replied. "Yeah, I know Charley too. He's my dog. What's your business with him?" Stephen spoke. "I heard that he was wondering down Sixth Street. Waltzed right in front of a semi. He was still trying to walk, so whoever hit him put Charley out of misery. Did Charley a favor. This world is ruthless yet fun." The room went pitch black again, with the only light coming from an open door an eternity away. Just as Stephen was about to speak, Travis pulled the switchblade from his sleeve and slashed Stephen's throat with a wild stab and ran through the open door, leaving behind a dying body and a trail of shame.

PART SEVEN: ON THE HUNT

Travis, who was now full of guilt, ran away from that room as far as possible. He had no idea of where he was going, until a poster showed him the way to his destiny. It read "Leader's Mansion Party Tonight at 9:30 pm". Travis looked at his bloody switchblade and sighed, for he knew what had to be done. He asked a passerby for directions, and after receiving them, Travis walked  tirelessly to the mansion. He got there as the party was about to start. People were filing into the mansion and security was hefty. Travis spoke to himself. "I guess I'll wait until this is done." Travis then walked around and hid behind cars until the party was over. At last, it was time to strike. He crept closer and closer to the mansion until a wave of realization slapped him across the face like a cold front. He stopped and thought to himself. "What am I doing?" This sure ain't how momma raised me. This isn't what I'm supposed to do." In the middle of his thoughts, a man walked outside and spotted Travis. Travis froze with fear, before shouting "Howdy!" The man ran back inside, as howdy was now classified as an uncommon greeting and a cowboy war cry. A minute later, Charley ran outside of the mansion and jumped into Travis' arms. Travis hugged him tight and kissed him before letting down his more than excited pup. Just as Travis was giving Charley a belly rub, a man dressed in an all black suit blindsided Travis, knocking the wind out of him. The man kicked Travis five more times in the gut before ceasing. "Hick, I am the leader of the greatest society in the world. That's all you must refer to me as. The Leader. Got it?" Travis looked up at the man, who seemed to be lost in his own yard. The man was short, about 4'7 and quite fat, and his voice seemed to match his looks. It was as if the man had sucked in a million gallons of heliums before speaking. Travis burst out laughing and spoke. "Boy, what is this? I didn't know Napoleon had a twin!" Travis laughed more and more as the man showed to be deeply hurt by laughter. He spoke. "Hick, I'm going to sue you! Or maybe I'll kill your dog! Either way, you're a dead man." Travis looked at the man and spoke. "Leader, whatever happened to the golden rule? It is treating others the way you want to be treated. I was literally about to murder you until I stopped myself. The only thing is, I did not follow through on it. There was no reason for you to hurt me." The man looked at Charley, who was now growling, and spoke. "No one cares about that crap. You wouldn't even follow through with my death." Travis took a deep breath and told Charley to stay put, before picking up his bloody switchblade.

PART EIGHT: THE RIVER

The man was puzzled at Travis' actions, for he never encountered this before. Travis swung at the man with his switchblade and was able to get a piece. With pinpoint accuracy, Travis had sliced the man's jugular. Charley walked over to relieve himself on the now dead leader. Once he had finished, Travis and Charley walked endlessly through the night back to the Whip River. Once they had reached the river, Charley licked Travis' leg before curling up in a ball and falling asleep. Travis took off his shirt and placed it over Charley before going to the river banks. He spoke to himself. " It's been a good long walk to the river, I've held my weight in shame. Sometimes that walk to the river seems so short I just want to jump in and drown." Travis was in shock, having now been baptized in murder and grief, the pain never willing to cease. He went into the deepest part of the river, soaking himself in shame and pity. As his head was going under, Charley sensed danger and jumped into the river. Charley then pulled Travis out by his arm and put him on land. Before Travis could compose himself, Charley got on top of him and fell asleep. Travis knew that Charley was doing what he thought was right, as most people should. He kissed Charley's wet fur and fell asleep in the pouring rain which was soaking the dirt, creating a photogenic image of a man and his dog together in a heap of mud. When morning came, the rain had ceased, but it had also created a pool of dirty water around Travis and Charley. At this point, there was no way of knowing what lied ahead on the marathon of roads for Travis and his loving dog. Death was always burning near Travis, and it seemed as if he had a rain cloud above his head. The burning inferno containing the city life, cancellations, and a life without Charley loomed over Travis like a shadow that stays even in the dark. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to live, nowhere to be happy, nowhere to be free, and nowhere to be human. Travis decided to trek onward with no idea of direction. If he happened to be caught, then so be it. There was only one issue with dying: Charley would have no one. Travis knew he could not do that to someone who lived their life as a guide to a senseless country boy. The first night fell fast, and Travis knew that midnight decisions would not get him very far.

PART NINE: A GLIMPSE OF HOPE

Though night had fallen, Travis and Charley went on. Just as sunrise came, bright headlights blinded Travis. He stumbled back a bit, making sure Charley was safe and behind him. It looked like Travis was caught once again, only having a destiny to a jail cell and a sad life. As we all know, not everything is as it seems. A woman with auburn hair and blue jeans hopped out of a big yellow pickup truck. This was surprising, as almost no one had trucks nowadays. She looked at Travis before speaking. "Hey cowboy. Heard you murdered the leader." Travis clenched his fists and spoke. "Maybe, but who are you? You gonna arrest me? Take my dog? Just let me live my life!" The lady replied. "I'm Summer. I work for the city jail. Don't worry. You're not going anywhere, and neither is your dog. I just came to talk." Travis let her talk, still aware of anything. She continued. "I'm tired of this life. There's no freedom and I hate eating spinach-based lasagna. Wanna take a ride and get away from big cities forever?"  Travis grew hopeful and got into the truck with Charley. After a couple of hours, they stopped and got out. Travis sighed and spoke. "Thanks for the ride, Summer, but Charley and I best be on our way. I can only trust people to a limit, and you've reached the limit. Hell, you even made it past the limit. I'll see you sometime." Summer was shocked and spoke. "Travis, don't leave. I love you." Travis started to walk away and replied. "I guess we're two lost souls that just ain't meant to be." The downpour came hard as Travis and Charley were walking away. This time, the rain did not feel cold or wet, only dry and calm. To Travis and Charley, tornados felt like a warm breeze and snow felt like sun. Weather had no effect on this powerful duo. The cruel and evil world was no match for a duo who had been through so much. As Travis had learned, there was a thin line between joy and pain. The rain was pouring on the imaginary walls of sadness that surrounded Travis. Faster than light, the glimpse of hope turned into a bright flash of darkness.

PART TEN: OUTSIDER COMES INSIDE

Travis and Charley were considered outsiders, only being allowed in for torture and dismay. The rain had turned into snow and the sadness grew from a seed to a forest. As they walked endlessly through the snow, an SUV blinded Travis once again. This time, there was no glimpse of hope. Instead, there was only a shimmer of pain and captivity. Travis shuddered at the thought of being a city slicker and becoming one of them.  He refused to settle for that reality. The SUV stopped and a man got out. He was wearing a black suit, which happened to be completely soaked from the snowy abyss. He unveiled a shotgun and pointed it at Travis before yelling to get in the car. Travis did as he was told, and Charley followed. Travis asked the man what he was doing, and the man did not reply, for he had a mouth of stone. After a couple hours, the car reached the city as the snow turned back to heat. The door of the SUV swung open and Travis was guided out with Charley at his side. He was walked to an elegant room full of smiles and smells of home cooked meals. It was strange, as it had been years since Travis was greeted nicely by the rest of society. When the event was over, he walked outside with Charley for some fresh air. Travis sat on the cement ground and hugged Charley as he cried with happiness, for it had been an eternity since he was treated this nice. All of this was good, indeed very good, but it seemed too good to be true. A reject of society and his dog had a Buffett in Heaven with kings and billionaires. Even though it was too good to be true, things got better. Travis was invited to the mansion of Hugh Stanley, a wealthy trust fund product with more cars than teeth. It was located high up in the hills, only being accessible by helicopter or a gold-plated elevator. Travis and Charley were picked up by a helicopter and within a matter of minutes, they were dropped off at the mansion. There must have been a million cars there, but no one was outside. Hugh opened the front door for Travis and Charley before embracing them with hugs. He spoke. "Most people assume that I'm selfish and rude because I come from a trust fund, and despite my lavish car taste, I am only kind and caring. Come with me." He led Travis and Charley to a room full of food, joy, and furniture. 

PART ELEVEN: FIGHT

As Travis was going to pick up a piece of bacon to feed to Charley, a stampede of footsteps came to the room. They all had guns and smug looks, as if they cloned each other. Travis dropped the bacon onto the floor, which Charley was quick to snatch, before speaking. "What is it with you guys? I want to be left alone. I was really having a good day for the first time in forever until you showed up and ruined it. Whatever you do, don't hurt Charley. He did nothing wrong, and neither did I. Remember the good old days when beef burgers and hard work were actually a thing? Those two things used to keep America thriving, more than just surviving. You know it don't make sense. Without people like me, you wouldn't be here. Don't you forget what made you. Don't you forget where you came from!" Travis' booming voice frightened some of the soldiers. In a fit of rage, he grabbed a nearby kitchen knife and threw it at Hugh, hitting him square in the head. Charley ran underneath a table and hid while Travis' rage fit continued. Travis took them all on, swinging and kicking with might. Of course bullets were flying and Travis was wounded, but within the chaos, half of the soldiers wiped themselves out due to friendly fire. The only reason they had not killed Travis when he took Hugh's life is because they had never seen anything so graphic. In the heat of the moment, the new soldiers who had never seen any action forgot how to defend themselves. It was soon over, with Travis winning miraculously against 30 new soldiers with guns. Charley came out from the table and licked Travis, for he knew his human had killed for the right reason. Those new soldiers had a job to take out Travis, but he resented and knocked them out.

PART TWELVE: BACK TO NORMAL

The next day, it was as if everyone had woken from a trance. They cried with joy as if something big happened. Travis spoke to one of them. "What happened?" They  replied. "The leader is dead! We are free!" Travis started to tear up as he realized what they meant. It meant that the world would be free of vegan based food and liberalism. No more rules on religion or life. Ranching could be a job once again. One hundred percent of salaries would not be going to one rich fat man who controlled slave work. These people had been trapped by a supposed utopia which turned out to be false. Hard work was finally a thing again, and it would be needed from everyone if they wanted to get out of this hard case of suffering. Travis went to leave Hugh's house when a letter appeared on the front porch. It was from the United States government. It read: "To Travis, you now hold ownership of Mr. Stanley's mansion. Our sincere regrets for our mistreat of you. Best wishes, The Government." Travis could not believe it. It seemed as if the Devil went to Texas but he did not stick around. Travis told everyone to leave and take Hugh's body with them, as they shall bury him at the nearby Lone stone Cemetery. Travis scoffed and looked at his sleepy dog before speaking. "I've been around too many knives. When you have found yourself, only then shall you be able to distinguish a stage prop from a real knife. Well Charley, I guess we're good for life. Sure, I've done some things I'm not proud of, but at least I did not bite the hand the fed me." Charley looked at him before yawning and falling asleep, finally at a peaceful rest, being able to be off guard. Travis was always pursued by an apparition of death, and he defied it. When his peace finally came, all was at rest. Once you've felt one thousand pains, you feel none at all. Travis had been hurt and abandoned all his life, teaching himself how to survive. When he came crashing through the forest as society cut his roots away, he fell on another tree which caught him. That tree was Charley, his loving dog. Society used to cripple everything good Travis found, but that stopped when he found Charley. From then on, it was no longer about surviving. It was about fighting. Not fighting to survive, but to thrive. In the end, Switchblade Travis ended up thriving with Charley. He put down the knife and let life run its course, for after all, dog is a man's best friend. Travis learned one thing from his life: The outcome of the fight was never down to the luck of the draw or who the media believed would win. It was only down to how much fight you put into yourself. Surely enough, Travis had fought till the very end and the roll was called on high. The most important lesson was never spoken, only seen: Once you think you have everything under your buckle, put it on your shoulders and see how under control it really is, for life's weight might be too much to bear.