Tall Tale Page #4

a man, say in San Francisco,

to talk to a man in New York City.

You're telling me a tall tale!

No voice can carry that far!

They don't actually talk to each other,

but word has it that that's coming, too.

This man named Bell is claiming that

people can be hundreds of miles away

and hold a conversation like

they're as close as l am to you!

Everybody'll know everybody else's

business?

There ain't gonna be a single place

left a man could find any privacy.

l'll tell you about everybody -

everybody and their dog's

probably after us by now!

lt used to be when a man got

a head start, it meant something!

Least we got away.

Never enough for you termites, is it?

You swindled me out of my camp,

robbed me of my trade,

now you want my woods, too!

l'm making my stand!

At least if l go down swinging,

l go down like a man!

Hush up, you log brain!

Pecos?

Let me take a gander at you.

You steamin' pile of buffalo pucky.

You're still ugly!

l told Sam.

They're not loggers. They're butchers.

Fancy machines cuttin' down everything,

the weak with the strong,

the sapling with the full-growed

so nothing could ever sprout again.

Sam said l was behind the times.

Me! Paul Bunyan.

The man who invented logging!

Who thought up

the double-bladed axe? Me.

Who dreamed up the log flume?

Me again. lt ain't easy. My head

hurt for days thinking up that one.

What about the grindstone?

Flapjack contest, wedge cuttin',

three point stands? Me, me, me, me!

Maybe l'm just old-fashioned,

but in my day, we didn't kill

the land, we just borrowed from it.

- What are you gonna do about it?

- l'll do as l darn well please.

- The rest can go to the blazes!

- lncluding Paradise Valley?

Paradise Valley? No concern of mine.

You're not Paul Bunyan.

Who says l ain't?

My pa told me stories about Paul Bunyan.

He said that Paul Bunyan was a giant

of a man. He could tame a continent.

Look danger in the eyes

and laugh in its face.

He got those parts right.

Not from where l'm sitting.

Seems to me you're just hiding out,

feeling sorry for yourself.

Pecos, who is this kid?

Seems to me

that you're just plain scared.

You are not the Paul Bunyan

my pa was telling me about.

How old are you, kid?

Do me a big, sequoia-sized favour.

Stay out of my way if you wanna be 13.

ls that ox really blue?

Of course he is. He was born

during the winter of the blue snow.

Move it, Pecos.

- He's feeling frisky.

- You move it!

Big blue bag of beef oughta be

haulin' logs, not haulin' ass.

Pardon my French.

Don't you worry, pretty baby.

Papa's here.

He won't let the bad man hurt you.

Watch your mouth, Pecos!

Baby's very sensitive!

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