This Is Good!

“You see, Mr. Tyson,” said Davy, “We know about bribes. Our whole business started with a bribe, it was what, thirty pieces of silver, Father West?”
“I believe it was, Pastor Tate, I believe it was.”
“Now, that’s interesting. I assume those pieces of silver were about an ounce, doesn’t that sound about right, Father West?”
“I would say so, Pastor Tate, about an ounce sounds right.”
“And last I heard, silver was about thirty dollars an ounce. Let’s see, thirty times thirty, that’s a far cry from a hundred.”
“Wait a damn minute,” shouted Tyson. “I went to church. I know about Judas’ bribe. I know about that.”
“Strange,” said Davy, “you know about the thirty pieces of silver the Sanhedrin paid Judas, but you missed all that other stuff about paying a fair wage and treating your fellow man fairly. That is strange. Isn’t that strange, Father West?”
“Indeed it is Pastor Tate, indeed it is.”
“Look,” said Tyson, “what do you bastards want?”
“What do us bastards want? That’s a good question. What do us bastards want? Isn’t that a good question, Father West?”
“It is an excellent question, Pastor Tate, an excellent question.”
“Let’s see, Mr. Tyson. The way I see it we have three options. One, we can hold these men here until the labor people arrive and they can make you pay the workers what you owe plus a few thousand in fines and penalties. That’s one way, don’t you agree, Father West?”
“I do agree,” said Danny as he flipped his toothpick. “That is one way.”
“Another way is we can get a few people from our churches down here to march back and forth carrying signs telling everybody what a louse you are. Most of my people aren’t gonna’ give a damn, but I think I can get fifty,  more or less. How many you think you can get, Father West?”
“About fifty sounds right, yea, I think I’m good for fifty.”
“Of course, Mr. Tyson, all that’s going to take time and your fruit is ripe. I can’t guarantee it won’t be rotten by the time we get everything in place.”
“Smart son-of-a-bitch, what makes you think I’m just going to stand here while you do all that?”
“That is a good question. Probably the police Father West has likely started dialing by now will stop you. Isn’t that right, Father West?”
“One more number and they’re on their way,” grinned Danny holding out his cell phone.
Tyson began looking down and shaking his head. “You said three ways, what’s the third way?”
“The third way is you go get your books and pay these men what you owe them. Father West and I will do the calculations.”
“You sons-of-bitches,” said Tyson. “You sons-of-bitches.”
“I guess we’re sons-of-bitches, Father West.”
“You know, I have often wondered about mom. You think maybe that was what it was?”
“This man says so, Father. This man says so.”
“Well, it must be. I’m so glad to know.”
That afternoon, Davy and Danny finished examining Mr. Tyson’s records and discovered Tyson owed his men quite a large sum of money. Danny wrote the total on a piece of paper and slid it toward Tyson. “I’ll get you a check,” Tyson said with all the hate he could muster.
“We prefer cash,” said Danny. “We can wait here until you run to your bank. But, I would suggest you hurry. Your peaches aren’t getting any fresher.” Tyson twisted away cursing, slammed the door to his truck and sped away.
“You feel good, Danny?”
“I believe I do, Davy.”
“One question.”
“Yes sir.”
“What was with the toothpick?”
“It was cool, wasn’t it?”
“Definitely, but what was it?”
“James Dean, Rebel Without A Cause.”
“It is better than your Stan Laurel impression.”
“It is? You think so?”
“It is, trust me. It is.”
A short time later, Tyson slid his truck up to where the others were standing. He got out and handed Danny a large packet of money.”
“Thank you,” said Davy. “And one more thing.”
“What the hell do you want now?”
“A list of the other farm owners around here.”
“For what?”
“Just make out the list.”
Tyson listed several names on a piece of paper and handed it to Davy.
“Thank you, Mr. Tyson. We wanted the list so we’ll have it in case we need to turn over names to the Department of Labor for the same trick you were pulling.”
“That’s right, Mr. Tyson, because you see Pastor Tate here speaks Spanish very well and you know what he told these men while you were at the bank?”
“No, what did he tell them while I was at the bank?”
“He told them that you had given us an extra hundred dollars, which you did. You didn’t know it but you did, and it would be a reward for any man who reported one of the land owners paying less than the minimum wage. Wasn’t that a fine idea, Mr. Tyson?”
“Are we finished?”
“Oh, I think so, Mr. Tyson and it was real good meeting you. Just as soon as we pay these men their money they’ll be back picking your peaches. Of course, you will pay them the right money from now on won’t you?”
Tyson turned away with an under his breath “Go to Hell”.
“You know, Preacher Davy, I don’t believe we made a very good impression on Mr. Tyson.”
“I disagree, Father West, I believe we made an excellent impression on Mr. Tyson.”