The ultimate question...
Alf the Poet
The following are a number of references to headsacks, from the
known writings concerning El Dupree's dim past. It is rumored that
Our Fabled Hero's exploits were recorded in full, though the name
of the biographer (who apparently was able to travel with El Dupree
on numerous occasions, due to his lack of a sense of smell) is
unknown to us. Most of the collected works reside in the Incinerator
Room of La Biblioteca Publica de Los Garbanzos (Green Bay Branch),
and it is feared that they will soon deteriorate in one way or
another, despite sporadic attempts to save them.
Thus thanks are due to the many diligent researchers who have nothing
better to do than dig up and transcribe the soggy, stained Job rolling
papers upon which these words were found.
It is often asked what determines the gauge of a headsack. This
knowledge, I fear, may be lost to history.
title unknown
El Dupree reached for his revolver, hesitated, and instead,
took out a #14 vinyl headsack. Yes, it was going to be a long
day, he thought.
title unknown
Pepito could just see daylight through the seams of the #14
vinyl headsack. He found that if he cocked his head slightly
to one side, he could glimpse, through the splitting seam of
the headsack (the aging headsack, the headsack that smelled
of masa harina and hair oil, the hated headsack of enforced
ignorance), one crusty corner of El Dupree's mouth. El Dupree
licked his lips, his tongue the color of well-cured meerschaum,
and muttered, "yust you vate."
title unknown
Hazily-lazily
Plains drifter El Dupree
Wanders the desert waste,
Headsack in hand.
Mocking crows follow som-
Brero with keen eyes and
Unceremoniously
Sit on the band.
title unknown
..."Not likely, Bendeco", she sneers as she turns away.
Undaunted, our hero whips out his #14 vinyl headsack and
throws it over his fair maiden's cabeza...Until he got this
close to her, he never realized just how small the Spirit of
Modern Woman's pechugas were. "Ay, caramba, I can do better
than THIS", he thinks. Leaving the erswhile apple of his eye
headsacked and waiting for his loving touch, he takes off
running. Okay, he's too fat to run, but you get the picture.
title unknown
It was a little-known fact that the Spirit of Modern Woman
was in fact allergic to vinyl and therefore took medication
that occasionally rendered her susceptible to hormonal
dysfunctions; to wit, the combined odors of Masa Harina and
hair oil acted as aphrodisiacs upon her nervous system. It
was probably just such a fit of chemically-induced lubricity,
so to speak, that caused her to react the way she did on the
sidewalk of a Milwaukee street on the fateful day when she
fell to the charms of one El Dupree, desperado and one-time
encyclopedia salesman. We thus have no choice but to wonder,
if the Spirit of Modern Woman had not been fearfully dependent
on the artifices of the medical industry (specifically, her
allergy medicine), would she have not behaved in that impulsive
fashion that resulted in the flight of our hero, El Dupree,
back to the Great Southwest, the hinterland of his nativity?
We can only guess.
from "Pepito's Revenge"
...Pepito struck quickly, tearing his way free of the #11
vinyl headsack, in which he had been trapped for so long with
nothing but old memories and the stench of his hated patron.
He lunged for his captor's unprotected, eternally glazed eyes.
But just short of his target, inches from liberation, he
slipped on El Dupree's rounded chest, on the slime of a
thousand bad burritos, and fell with a liquid crunch to the
street below.
Seeker, you carry your own headsack. It is the headsack of
misconceptions, of ego, of the blinding heat of the desert at noon.
Your headsack traps you, tricks you, ultimately damns you. Jesus
said something like, "Pick up your cross and follow me." El Dupree
says, "Hot in there? Heh, heh. Bof!" Break free, lunge for the
light. But don't slip on the way out...
Alf