The row, like all good quality rows everywhere, began in the jacks, with just fists being flung around the place by large bearded men in leather jackets.
Within minutes, however, it exploded throughout the chipper and outside, and the next thing, there were lads being stabbed and shot and knuckle-dusted, and by the time the Texas Rangers arrived on the scene, it was like a small war, with blood and bodies everywhere.
By sundown, there were no less than nine lifeless bodies at the scene. After a gun-battle with the police, about 150 Angels of various tribes were arrested and charged with murder, and there is the continuing possibility as I write, that the feud will break out again in another chipper, this weekend. We are in Texas, after all.
And because the real life event was as lurid as many of Clint Eastwood’s films, or the paperback Westerns I read as a teenager, I became interested in the story and applied myself diligently to researching the local background, in the kind of depth which you all now expect of me, each week.
And that is how, exclusively in this column, I can suggest strongly that the possibility exists that maybe one or two of the fallen Angels will soon be brought to a nine-acre plot in a forest near Huntsville, just down the highway from Waco.
And there, The Lord between us and all harm, they will not be decently buried at all, but will be left out exposed underneath the whispering pines, as hungry buzzards circle in the skies above. Once again, the pure truth, which ye will find hard to believe.
Furthermore, the cruel facts are, if any of the fallen Angels arrive soon, that they will join a line of other unburied bodies in the forest. Some only arrived quite recently, but others, I learn, have been lying there for so long that they are virtually skeletal, and there is clear evidence that the buzzards and other scavengers have visited the site on several occasions, and thoroughly done what scavengers do.
Even though there is a high fence around this section of the park, the scene is quite frightening. Again, the pure truth.
The site is the unique workplace for a well-funded project being run by the prestigious Southeast Texas Applied Forensic Science Facility attached to a local university, and the scientists there, in layman’s language, are charting every stage of the process of all mankind, and womankind too, returning to Mother Earth on the ashes to ashes, dust to dust trail.
The cadavers they carry their experiments out upon are those of unfortunate Texans who are vagrants, jail birds, loners unclaimed at the point of death by any kith or kin. And, very possibly under the circumstances, the likes of fallen Angels from Waco or anywhere else.
The observations and findings are of huge interest and benefit to forensic scientists the world over, I’m told, and have been ongoing for years.
None of you would eat a breakfast or lunch for months if I relayed to you any of the detailed information which I gleaned from my research. I will spare ye all of that.
However, those many amongst you who are paying significant sums for bags of 10:10:20, and other fertilisers to spread on your holdings, are likely to be slightly interested in the hard scientific fact from Huntsville, that you and I and Uncle Tom Cobley, when we are eventually reclaimed by Mother Earth, are as valuable a nutrition source as maybe two bags of fertiliser. The pure truth, yet again.
No details about the first couple of months down below, when maybe we are a bit poisonous and negative towards existing vegetation but, shortly afterwards, we become a real rich boon to the ecosystems around us.
The scientists have discovered that every kilo of us donates no less than 32 grams of nitrogen, at least 10 grams of phosphorous, four grams of priceless potassium, and a few grams of magnesium as well.
Mother Earth must be delighted with us!