It is understandable that many of you may be curious as to why the Badger goes to such great lengths to ensure that his feud with the Wolf remains undeclared. Why wouldn't he just come out and face his adversary in an open field of battle? The answers to this question are numerous and complex. For one, a cold conflict affords him unrestricted access to the Lobo's operational hub. Another is the tactical advantage he gains through his knowledge of Lobo's habits and routines. But there is also an additional, more mysterious reason. This tale from the Lobo's past may begin to at least explain some of those circumstances. A hint for the impatient reader: It involves Bad Mojo.
Long before the birth of the Tejon, before even the arrival of the man who begat him, there existed within this jungle paradise a conflict between two mighty forces. On one side was the Lobo, builder of mausoleum inspired dwellings. On the other was Dead Burt, known then simply as Albert the German.
The roots of this struggle can be traced to the day when Lobo, ever sensitive to the vast stores of electricity needed to run his home, attempted to surreptitiously extend Albert's high voltage power line another mile to his house. There was nothing overtly deceptive or criminal in this act. Lobo had no plans to siphon off or steal electricity from his German neighbor. No, he simply desired to join the line Albert had previously erected. He supplied the nineteen poles, cable, and labor. He made arrangements for the installation of another meter so that no mistake could be made as to who consumed what.
But this action roused within Albert a great anger. Certain Teutonic elements of his character that had laid dormant perhaps for generations poured forth. He decided at that moment that he would crush the Lobo with all the efficient brutality his German disposition could muster.
For we must understand that Albert had a vision. Already a minor celebrity in the world of resort development, he had descended upon the Mexican jungle from the mountains of Canada. He brought with him vast experience and formidable resources. Smartly clad in linen pants and flowing blouses, he set about transforming an empty tropical beach into a vast and sprawling resort complex. That Lobo already inhabited a small corner of this beach was of little concern to Albert. He had a vision.
Dead Burt's Canadian Vision
It turns out that nineteen extra power poles were not a part of Albert's vision. And when he saw them shooting jauntily from the ground he swore that not a single volt of electricity would ever pass through their outstretched arms. Using one of his liaisons in the Mexican power company, he put just enough money into just the right hands to ensure that Lobo would never see the completion of his project.
Dead Burt's Mexican Vision
When Lobo discovered what had happened he was also quite angry. Though it is true that he erected those nineteen posts without speaking to Albert, it is also true that he had really not done anything wrong. Seeking to pursue a diplomatic solution, Lobo approached Albert and offered his side of the story. For his part though, Albert was intractable. He informed Lobo that as long as he inhabited his earthily body and perhaps even after, no electricity would flow from his poles to Lobo's house.
The Sad Tale of a Pole Without Power
At this point relations between the two men eroded rapidly. What had once been a coexistence based upon reluctant respect and a mutual love of outlandish fashion became a communion of seething hatred. The man of the daisy dukes and hiking boots and the German dandy of a million blouses found themselves bitter enemies.
Each man brought a specific set of skills to the conflict. Albert had deep pockets and powerful connections. Lobo relied on vast reservoirs of insanity and determination. The confluence of these tactics created a crushing stalemate. Albert continued with his development and Lobo remained without power.
Lobo did have another tool, however. A tool that most would believe to be a function of his insanity, but a tool nonetheless. He began to hurl bad mojo in Albert's direction. He opened a voodoo faucet and for a year and a half, whether Albert was in Canada or Mexico, let flow a torrent of acid and malignancy. To be sure, it was a slow moving process. But just as we know the glacier will continue to inch unflaggingly forward, Lobo felt in his bones the sweet satisfaction of impending success.
In the end Albert died of a heart attack. That he was eighty-five could have been a contributing factor. It's hard to say. But it really makes no difference to the Lobo. It sealed within his consciousness a sense of true power. He had through sheer force of will vanquished a formidable adversary. The crafty German brutality of his enemy was no match for bad mojo. Albert the German came to be known simply as Dead Burt. The jungle slowly began to reclaim what would have been a sprawling development. And Lobo danced a quick jig on his grave.
Dead Burt's Mexican Vision Overrun by Jungle and Graffiti
Make no mistake, the gravity of this story weighs heavily on the Badger's psyche. Though he is a skeptic, he is also a relatively young man. The potential that bad mojo might bring about his early demise is a risk he is understandably not willing to chance. A secret feud, at least in his eyes, remains the best option. Besides, I think we can all agree that Voodoo is creepy.
P.S. Lobo still doesn't have power.
