OK Governor "King Twit" plans to add an extra casino

It was a typical evening at the Recovery Room Bar & Grill. Yahola, Tarpalechee, Fixico and the bartender Harjo were arguing about what teams were going to make the NBA finals.

The Milwaukee Bucks and the LA Lakers were the consensus of the feudin’ Creeks. However, Fixico, a Native rapper, had a different opinion. “You dudes are all taking the easy and obvious picks,” said Fixico. “Of course everybody is picking the Bucks and the Lakers! They have the best records in the NBA. But that doesn’t mean they will both make the finals. How about you boys get a little backbone and pick a team that’s a Darkhorse?”.

Get some backbone?! Them’s fightin’ words,” shouted Yahola. Harjo stepped between Fixico and Yahola. “Easy boys,” Harjo instructed “Sit down and drink your beers”. Yahola and Fixico briefly gave each other the rezzy fightin’ evil eye before returning to their bar stools.

Gov. Stitt appeared on the soundless TV monitor nearby. He was talking about the gaming compacts. A news crawl quoted Stitt as saying that he could sign a deal overnight with a commercial casino for a 25% fee.

Myself, Yahola, Fixico and Harjo all burst out laughing simultaneously. Yahola was laughing so hard he had to spit out a mouthful of beer. It nearly soaked Harjo. “25%! What a maroon!” shouted Yahola! “That guy is such a twit!” added Tarpalechee. “We have a saturated gaming market. All the best locations are already taken and the market is hypercompetitive. 25%! What a twit!”

Suddenly the jukebox of the Recovery Room started playing Steve Martin’s King Tut. Fixico, the Creek rapper, jumped up and yelled “Check this out boys!”. Fixico walked to the center of the bar. He began to sing to the tune of the song, improvising lyrics.

“King Twit! King Twit!”

Yahola, Harjo, Tarpalechee and myself burst into appreciative laughter. Fixico continues:

“Now when he was a Beta,

He never thought he’d see,

King Twit!

People stand in line to play the slots game.

King Twit!

How tribes doin’ great?

Funky Twit!

I want Top Ten state!”

We were all loving it. Harjo yelled at his customers “Hey, get over here! Y’all need to see this!” The patrons quickly rushed over and formed a circle around Fixico, beers in hand. Fixico, feeling embolden by the crowd, resumed his King Twit rap.

“Born in Oklahoma,

His mortgage biz a ho’ma.”

Yahola, Harjo, Tarpalechee and I join in and sing the refrain:

(King Twit! King Twit!)

“Now if he’d of known

They’d line up just to play you,

(King Twit!)

He’d trade his governorship

And bought him a casino.

(King Twit!)”

Yahola grabbed Harjo and I by our upper arms and dragged us off our barstools. “Come on! Let’s be the backup dancers,” Yahola commanded. We lined up behind Fixico and proceeded to dance like the Egyptians. We were hopelessly out of sync with one another, arms flailing about as if we were drowning in a giant toilet bowl frenetically battling against the omnipotent waters swirling us towards a fearful Hades.

“Burdened like a donkey,

(Funky Twit!)

Dances like a honkey!

Born in Oklahoma,

His mortgage biz a ho’ma.”

(King Twit!)

(Twit! Twit!)

By now all of the beer guzzlin’ patrons of the Recovery room had begun to join in and sing the King Twit refrain. Some were attempting to do the pharaonic dance. What rhythm they once possessed, they lost four beers ago.

“Prancin’ by on guile,

(Disco Twit! Twit!)

Budget broke a mile,

(Boss Twit! Twit! Twit!)

The tribes he did rile,

(Rockin’ Twit! Twit!)

King Twit is so vile.

“’Cherokee’ broke Injun’ treaty.”

(King Twit! Twit! Twit!)

(Twit! Twit! – Twit! Twit!)

Imagine That!

(Twit! Twit! – Twit! Twit!)

He’s Cherokee Twit.

(Twit! Twit!)

(Twit! Twit)!

King Twit!

Fixico’s King Twit rap lives on in infamy in Recovery Room lore.

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