The Alamo: The Untold Story

I just found this story that I wrote on the bus after visiting the Alamo back in 2007 with the CLC chorale. It made me laugh so I thought I'd post it here. Enjoy.

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THE ALAMO, You may know it as the final resting place of such great souls as the legendary Davie Crockett, Jim Bowie, and Colonel Travis…or so they are known. However, there lies an untold story behind the accepted "facts." A tale which reveals the true identities of these men, a story so heroic that Hollywood was forced to revise it for fear of civilian dependence upon such heroic men of valor. Their names were changed, the tale was diminished and their legend left in sheer and utter ruin. However my friends, family and patriotic war memorial fanatics, I now bring you the true, uncut, unedited, facts, names and deeds of these great men. The tale has been revived and I now bring you…The Alamo: The Untold Story. 

The Alamo: The Untold Story

By: Joel Prush ((Jordan Eastman)) 

Starring:

Bruce Springsteen as Davie Cricket …………….Adolf HItler as David Bowie
Salvador Dali as Carlos Santana……………..And introducing Sean Connery as Colonel Travis Saunders

"It is hard here…" Colonel Travis Saunders wrote as he began to pen a letter home. "…It is hard here…" he continued. "…It is hard here...Darn!" he shouted. "Why doesn't the Army supply some softer mattresses? I keep trying to write but it's just so hard here!" rising from his chair, he clasped both hands about the legs of his computer chair and sent it hurling towards the door just in time for young Private Spot to enter. 

"Message for you Sir." the private managed before the chair leg struck him in the chest and impaled him through the heart. 

"Thank you Private, I shall see that you are awarded the Purple Heart for your tragic casualty." Travis stated with a smile. "Now, if you wouldn't mind reading it to me, I seem to have lost my glasses." he concluded

"Certainly sir." the lad managed to mumble as his life was slowly draining into a pool of blood about his torso. 

"Dear Colonel Saunders," the lad struggled as he slowly began coughing up blood and his eyes began rolling into his head. "I write to you in a mood that is an antonym of buoyant, buoyant being synonymous with good-humored meaning that I am deeply troubled as I pen this note. Why I am so opposite of jovial and purely tantamount with distressed, you ask? Because the boy scouts I have been using as replacements for my usual scouts, due to the ever increasing rate of salary expected by fully developed spies, have informed me that you are now living in a Monastery. However, the fact that you now seek lodging in a church has absolutely nothing to do with my ill-humor. I, in fact, have been suffering from ever increasing migraine headaches for the last week and this has thrown me into a not-so-good-not-so-very-happy-grandfather-like-mood. All this aside, your church stands in the way of my taking over Texas and I'm going to attack you and your men with my not very small army of bellow average American height Mexican people with rather large wives who at one time were skinny and beautiful young super-models strutting about in bikinis on the shores of the Rio Grande. Hope you have fun dying."

Sincerely,

Carlos Santana

P.S. 

"I sometimes…"

At this time the gaping wound in young Private Spot's heart had become infected with gangrene and was now too much to bear. Being unable to force life to remain any longer, the faithful, trustworthy, foreign exchange student turned private in the US Army due to several forged signatures and a stamp he bought off eBay for $4.75 fell prey to this armchair's gruesome and painful death. 

"Private?" stated Travis. "Private, what does he sometimes do?" seeing the private left lifeless in a pool of blood and being cheerfully devoured by grateful maggots he removed his cap and began his eulogy.

"You were a good private, Spot." He concluded, realizing he had kicked the bucket. 

"But drat, when you kicked the bucket you had to kick it right onto my Daffodils. Now they're flooded you fool. You can forget about any Purple Heart awards from me young man."

Suddenly remembering that his fortress would soon be attacked he quickly rushed from the room, struck his forehead upon the beam outside the door and was knocked senseless. 

*blackness*

"There there, Colonel," he heard. "We'll have you all fixed up in no time." 

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, and wait a minute." Travis began laughing, "I know that voice! That's Davie Cricket if I ever heard him!" 

"Right as three lefts, Saunders." Davie replied. "You seem to have knocked yer noggin when ye tried to get out and give them orders. That's why you need protection on your head. Wear a skunk skin cap like mine and you won't be noggin knocking no more, promise." Davie said as he tapped himself on the head violently with his pistol.

"Orders? That's right, Carlos Santana is going to be attacking today. I must warn the troops." Travis shouted as he leapt from the bed. 

"No worries, I've already done it." Cricket replied. "Ah here, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine. David, get in here. This here is David Bowie." Davie stated as a man dressed in flashy, effeminate clothing carrying a long butcher knife entered the door.

"Greetings, I'm David Bowie." stated the man in a fake sounding British accent. "You must be Major Tom?" 

"Colonel Saunders, but most folks call me Travis. Just a question, but, how on earth did you squeeze into those leather pants?" Travis inquired.

"Never mind that now." Cricket interrupted. "We've got some planning to do."

The next few hours Cricket, Bowie, and Colonel Saunders laid their plan of defense against the Mexican terror, Carlos Santana. Since their chapel was conveniently located in the heart of San Antonio, Texas, they planted soldiers, dressed as tourists, along the river walk, in the mall, and all through the windows of the Holiday Inn across the street. They then placed little hanging felt tubes attached to poles marking pathways going in all different random directions all throughout the Alamo so that Santana's army would have to walk the weaving path for seemingly an eternity before actually getting to anything important. They also placed signs throughout the yard stating to stay off the grass so that the attackers would be forced to stick to the strategic path. As if this wasn't enough, they then planted cacti and overpriced coke machines all about so when the enemy got thirsty during their eternal maze walk they had to either use up all their cash or damage their hands trying to get water from the cacti. All things in place, they were ready for the attack. They had stationed a man, Paul Revere by name, in the tower of the Hilton Hotel to signal with Chinese Lanterns the approach of the Mexican Terror. His signals being 67 if by San Antonio St. and 66 if by Alamo Way, they new there was no way defeat would ever occur.

"I do believe we're ready." Stated Colonel Saunders as he finished putting on his white suit and made his way to the dining hall. "I can't wait to tear that Santana fiend apart." 

"Yeah, I hope that out of the kindness of his heart he decides to visit a leper colony, and then he gets a small cut before he goes in and gets leprosy and loses his arms. Then I would challenge him to a duel with the weapon being bowling balls but he couldn't pick them up because he wouldn't have any arms and I would win." said David Bowie malignantly.

"David you're so stupid, that would never happen." Davie began. "Besides, if you challenged him to a duel he would get to pick the weapon. Knowing Santana, he'd probably pick blowguns and he'd kick your butt." he finished sarcastically.

"Well, I don't like your tone, young man." Bowie shouted in defense.

"Young man? I'm like freaking 57 you idiot; I'm not a young man. Good grief, I'm old enough to be your stinking father you moron." Screamed Davie as he flipped a young raccoon onto David's lap causing it to panic and bite him in the lower arm.

"Yeah well if I had one wish that would come true if I wished it, I'd wish that you were a goldfish in a goldfish bowl. Then I'd put you on a record player and make you spin so fast that you had to swim up current to keep from slamming into the wall. Then I'd pick a really long symphony so that you would have to swim for a long time until you got too tired to swim and you'd stop and smash against the wall and die. Then I'd take you out and I'd barbeque you on the barbeque grill that used to be yours when you were still a human that I took when I turned you into a goldfish and I'd cook you in lemon so your eyes would sting then I'd serve you to your kids and chuckle to myself while they ate you then I'd tell them when they were done that they just ate their daddy who got turned into a goldfish and they'd cry." Bowie replied in tears.

"Yeah well I'd wish that you would become a famous politician and then the press would look for things to make fun of you because you're republican and I'd sell them that story about you when you took a poop in my chili in high school and then got the bowls mixed up and you at the poop chili just before your girlfriend came up to you and gave you a big kiss and got really sick and died because she ate your poop. Then they'd print it all over the press and you'd be made fun of a whole lot until you got tired of it and got really stressed out because every time you would go to get food at the store you'd see yourself on all the magazines kissing a girl and putting poop in her mouth. Then you'd go to jail for murder." Davie retaliated

"Don't do that Davie Stupidbutt!" Bowie Shouted

"Poop-mouth-kisser-killer-head!" Davie shouted back

"Davie, no more talking until you eat all your food." Said Saunders softly. "and by the way, you call this chicken? This is worse than kissing a guy with crap in his mouth!" 

"What did you say?!" shouted the Emril, the chef. "If you think it's so bad, why don't you cook it yourself or something?"

"You know what, maybe I will! Maybe I'll just start my own restaurant after we win this stinking battle."

Suddenly there was a colorful flash. 

"Look!" shouted some random person who wasn't paid because he had only one line.

"Is it 67 or 66 lanterns?" asked another with the same description.

"It's 67 I counted!" 

"no it's 66."

"That's just because he hasn't lit them all yet."

"Or it could be because one burned out."

"It's 66…no 67…no…"

As they sat there bickering and arguing over how many lanterns were in the window, Santana was marching his army through the felt labyrinth at that very moment. However, he had a secret spy on the inside of the Alamo who, being dressed as a janitor, had rearranged the path making it more direct and far shorter. Marching his men up to the main hall he broke in and began singing loudly in Spanish causing the men to cover their ears, beg for it to stop and eventually begin killing one another. 

"We have to do something, all defenses have failed." shouted Cricket. "Where is Colonel Saunders?"

"He's in the kitchen frying chicken." Bowie replied.

"Drat, he's our only hope. Without him we're as helpless as those colorful creatures with shaped antennas and televisions in their chests on PBS." Cricket replied.

"I've got it." Shouted Bowie. "But it'll take humility and pride." 

"Humility and pride? that's kind of contrary don't you think?" Cricket asked.

"Not in the least. Humility, Pride!" Bowie called. 

Suddenly two young polar bears roared through the crowds and picked up Cricket and Bowie rushing them out of the Alamo and out of harms way. However, in the process of picking them up, they managed to crush them both beneath their strong jaws causing life to drain and their tragically historic deaths to incur. 

Struggling to survive, Bowie managed to whisper over the PA Microphone sending his message of hope and victory throughout the fortress, "You may win today, Carlos, but look where the Alamo is now…in the heart of Downtown TEXAS AMERICA! God Bless the USA Boys, and Remember the Alamo." 

"Of course I remember." Davie responded. "I was just there not five minutes ago you idiot." 

"I meant it as a figure of speech, as something that would go down in history." Bowie stated in response.

"Go down is right, down right into the gutter. What kind of idiot is going to go around saying, 'hey, remember the Alamo?' sheesh, what a stupid waste of life." Davie managed to whisper, still holding on for dear survival

"What you think you could do something better?" Bowie responded with his final breath.

"Um, yeah." 

"Well, go for it."

"Try something catchy like: 'What's up man'." Davie responded with a victorious smile as his life spilled out and he collapsed forever.

"And you think kids are really going to say that? What's up man? Seriously? By the way, your life just spilled all over my legs and now I'm going to die with this cereal and milk all over myself, jerk." 

"Well, at least I'm not a poopie-head-mouth-cootie-head-killer-head-butt." Davie managed.

These were the final words of two of the greatest men in history, Davie Cricket and David Bowie. Colonel Saunders went on to start his own restaurant know as Alamo Fried Chicken. Unfortunately it was bought out by Pepsi Co. and changed to Kentucky Fried Chicken in the late 1970's. However, the legend remains the same and the story no longer remains untold. 

The End./..and there you have it...