The Hanging

"You can't hang Parchman tomorrow," Allen `Loopy' (referring to his profession) Driscoll insisted.

"And why is that?" Sherriff Giddings drawled.

"Because it won't work tomorrow. The setup is all wrong."

Giddings shrugged. "A gallows is a gallows and a noose is a noose. Look, I know Parchman is one of your cousins. You're the best hangman in Lyburn county and most others around here, but if you'd rather we got someone else to do it--"

"It's not that," Driscoll said. "Look here. The reason I'm so good at my job is because I spend a lot of time preparing for an execution. I take the condemned prisoner's measurements and then I fix the rope to suit. It can't be too long and it can't be too short. When Parchman first came here he weighed maybe a hundred and forty. But he's spent six months in jail with no exercise, nothing to do but eat, and he's put on at least fifty pounds. If I hang him now, using those first measurements, he'll strangle to death instead of getting his neck clean broke. He deserves to die, but not that way. I got to do it all over again."

"You'll hang him tomorrow," Sheriff Giddings said firmly. He gave Driscoll a crooked smile. "Parchman's gang bushwhacked my brother and left him to die in the desert without water. It must have taken him a mighty long time to die. I don't care much whether Parchman has an easy death or not."

"That's not justice," Driscoll pointed out. "That's revenge.

"You're right," the sheriff agreed. "It's revenge." Driscoll knew there was nothing more to say. He made an adjustment to the rope's length based on guesswork, but he knew a proper weighing was the only way to be sure. He made the noose carefully, checked over the gallows, and said a prayer.

~~OOO~~

The next morning's event brought many people to town, crowding around the jail eagerly. They knew what Parchman was and what he'd done, and they were anxious to see him pay for it. The prisoner's hands were tied behind his back, and the loop was placed around his neck, the knot under one ear. He shook his head briefly when asked if he had any last words. Driscoll saw the sheriff watching, a cold look of pleasure on his face. He sighed and pulled the lever, hoping for the best but preparing for disaster.

It was worse than he could have imagined. There was no slow strangulation but a sharp jerk--and Parchman's head was torn loose from his body. It flew wide, trailing blood and gobbets of flesh. Driscoll heard screams and saw women faint. Giddings' smile had been replaced by an expression of horror. Parchman's head landed on the ground and rolled to the sheriff's feet. Its dead eyes opened and the mouth moved in a ghastly rictus as it croaked "I'll say hi to your brother."

Then it was grey and lifeless, and Giddings vomited on it. Driscoll hurried up, pale and perspiring.

"I told you--" he started. "I know. It'll never happen again." Giddings pulled off his badge, handed it to Driscoll and walked away. That was the last hanging ever to take place in Lyburn county.