OK, it's the weekend. It's become traditional to have a group story over the weekend. However, last weekend the story dried up. Let's give it another try this weekend, and if it doesn't go anywhere, I'll cut back to maybe once every other weekend or once a month (let me know what you think).
As always, the rules are: 1. Please keep the language as clean as you can. Remember, there are kids that read this particular post. 2. Pick up the story where the last entry left off. 3. Get creative!
Today we're travelling to the Old West. I grew up on Zane Grey and loved his stories (until I grew older and realized how chauvenistic his writings were). I still love re-reading some of his old stories, though I choke a bit over his prose. So in the spirit of Zane Grey, let the story begin!
Yeehaw!
The horseman at the top of the ridge reigned his horse in. He sat there, contemplating the town below. If a passerby had seen him, he would have noticed the strongly set mouth and the determined eyes with a hint of steel in their color.
He had journeyed many miles to get to this destination, and it showed. The dust of many weeks of travel hung heavily on him...
About Me
- Saur♥Kraut
- Saur♥Kraut has been called The Mouth of the South.
This blog was repeatedly named one of the best blogs in the area by the (then) St. Pete Times and Tampa Tribune. After a hiatus of a little over 3 years, she has recently returned to blogging and generally annoying everyone.
Saur♥Kraut grew up in the Tampa Bay Area and, after a brief period of roaming, settled there for good... just as a tick settles on a dog. She now lives in uneasy symbiosis with the most densely populated area within the State of Florida.
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... as did the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey.
Meanwhile, in the saloon, Miss Kitty was wiping up yet another spill. Then she paused ~ something was in the air, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
In this town there was always something hanging in the air. Unfortunately this time the she just couldn't shake the feeling off. It's goint to be a busy night and Miss Kitty will need to be on her toes...
The rider on the pale horse pulled up outside the bar, dismounted, and strode in. He walked over to the bar, carefully tossing the right side of his duster back over his holster. One never knew when somebody might shuck iron just for the hell of it.
"Bartender, is there a place around here called (he checked on a piece of paper culled from his saddlebag) Wolverton Mountain? Or a guy named Clifton Flowers?"
The bartender chose his words carefully. "Uh, stranger, I think that job he advertised -- for a songwriter? -- has been filled."
The steely-eyed cowboy said, "I ain't interested in no damn song-writin'. What I'm lookin' for is..."
a chicken. A great big chicken. I need a chicken whose neck fits securly in the palm of my hand so that I can choke it, and choke it good!"
The bartender peered at the stranger closely. "Hey now," he said slowly, "might you be pullin' my leg, mister?" Moving a little bit closer, and peering up into the stranger's face, he burst out into a loud guffaw.
"Why Packin' Heat Pete!" he exclaimed. "As I never! What brings you back into these here parts?"
He ran into the saloon, and stood at the bar. The bartender noticed that the horseman was acting a bit strange, as if he were straining to hold something in.
"what will it be, partner" the bartender asked.
"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, WHERE IS THE OUTHOUSE!!!" the horseman exclaimed. Tears were running down his cheeks as he spoke. The dusty smell he walked in with changed abrubtly, causing everyone in the saloon to scowl at the mysterious stranger.
Or that's what might have happened if he hadn't already been in the saloon, talking to the bartender...
"...who shifted his attention to watching Miss Kitty in the de-linting process.
"I been thinkin' of buyin' up the Old Homestead where I was borned, and runnin' the sheepherders and sodbusters into the next county.
"And I might just take Miss Kitty with me, seein's how she's such a good cleaning lady. Cleanliness if next to Godliness, ya'all know."
"Red Schmidt, who was playing cards nearby and had just lost $50 drawing to an inside straight, arose. 'Miss Kitty ain't go nowhere with you buster. If you think so, I'll meet you in the street in 15 minutes and we'll settle out. I don't know whether to gut-shoot you or give you one right between the eyes.'
"A crowd gathered outside. It looked grim for one of them -- perhaps both. And then Miss Kitty....
Ran wailing between them. "No, STOP," she screamed. "This could be easily settled with a nice game of checkers..."
... but before them there boys had a chance to mosey over to the checker table, a tall man, with red hair, dressed in black from the top of his head to this feet pushed the saloon doors open with a bang. His side arms was shining like new silver.
The room fell deathly quiet, and Miss Kitty's eyes followed Packin' Heat Pete.
The bartender ran for cover, and Miss Kitty fainted.
...they'd known each other all their lives.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" asked Miss Kitty, sheepishly.
"No, but I hope you get to know me real good," said the red headed man in black.
They gazed at one another for what seemed like forever, when suddenly...
Packin' Heat slowly sauntered over the the dark, red-haired stranger and with his nose about two inches from the stranger's chin, whispered with his stale cigar breath, "Pardner, you are 15 seconds from blowing blood-bubbles from your belly if you don't turn and walk your sorry ass out them doors. Miss Kitty's mine...I laid eyes on her first!"
Pete's eyes grew large as he counted, "Five...four...uh... what comes after four?"
"Three," whispered the dark stranger through a grin in Clint Eastwoodesque.
"Oh, yeah," Packin Heat continued, "3...2...1...
Miss Kitty watching all the going on, stated gettin' a little pissed off at being treated like a piece of meat. She was woman enough for them boys, but it be her doin' the choosing. "Nobody owns me", she said under her breath.
Without a sound, she walked behind the bar and picked up the bartender's double-barrels shoot-gun. Checks to see if it is loaded, then she aimed it at Packin' Heat Pete and the red-headed man in black and before they could pull out their side arms she shouted ...
"Lissen up, boys. Ain't ya'll never heard of women's rights?"
"Oh gawd," moaned Packin' Heat Pete. "She's a suffragist."
"Well, that's it for me, then," said Red. "I need me a woman I kin boss around and expect to have my vittles on the table on time ever' night, right n' proper."
"Ya'll are outta yer dern minds," declared Kitty. "Ya ole misogynistic troglodytes."
"Say wha...?" stammered Red.
A man stood up in the corner. He was very well dressed, and had been quietly sitting there the entire time. "Fellows, what she means is..."
you can both kiss off, she doesn't have enough time in her day to deal with you big headed, pig smellin, gun shootin cowboys.
It's time you boys realize Miss Kitty is the founder of....
...the Women's Christian Temperance Union. This bar is closed!
It seemed as if no one (except Miss Kitty) was going to live happily ever after.
But who knows?
The bartender served up a round on the house, as Miss Kitty got her violin and started playing an Irish jig. A couple of the guys took of their cowboy boots and started high-stepping to the music, dancing like little kids in a sprinkler on a hot summer's day.
The mood in the saloon had changed to jovial and everyone was telling jokes and smoking cigars.
Then the saloon doors opened and in walked ...
**COMMERCIAL BREAK ONE**
"I can't seem to forget you....
Your Windsongs stays on my mind...
I can't seem to forget you...
Your Windsong stays on my,...Windsong stays on my mind...
OOOOO--Yeah!
***COMMERCIAL BREAK TWO***
Feelin' Groovy...Just had my Cheerios!
Start your family's morning right with a tasty bowl of Vitamin Fortifide Cheerios, with 100% daily amounts of Iron, and Vitamins B-6 & B-12, Your kids will love 'em and it's good for them too.
Feelin' groovy, Just had my Cheerios!
***NEWS UPDATE***
Tonight at 10...See the results of todays election. Find out how many men let there wives vote...plus...See why women violence against men is on the rise here in the Fox Valley, plus...Why area bars and saloons are losing business, plus tonight and tomorrows rainy forcast with meteorologist Claude Nyne, only here on Fox 11 News, your number one newscast in the Fox Valley, more balanced, more egalitarian.
... the director of the show. She slammed the script down, and said in a loud voice, "CUT!"
The actors scrambled around to find their places, and the children were taken back to the nursey. By the time the director yelled "ACTION!" .. everything was back in place.
Act 2 - Scene 3
At hearing the stranger speak up for Miss Kitty, Packin' Heat Pete and Red stop arguing and put their guns away. Everybody sat back down, and the bartender stared serving drinks again.
Miss Kitty laid the shoot-gun down on the bar, and moved very subductively over to the well dressed man, who had spoken up for her. She held her hand out to him, and he squeezed it gently.
"How ya'll doin' sir. Can I buy ya'll a drink." She said with pounting lips. "Seems ya'll knows me already, but what's yore name stranger?"
When he dislodged his hand the sheriff's badge could easily be seen on his right lapel. He smiled at her and said ....
"It's time to walk off into the sunset, Miss Kitty. I need a female detective, and you seem to have enough fire in you to make a damned good deputy. Whaddya say?"
MIss Kitty agreed, and hung up her apron forever. She left the saloon, and went to work as the first female deputy in the old west. Many years later, people still reminisced about Deputy Kitty, who could shoot out the middle of an Ace of Spades from 100 feet away.
Her wedding to the Sheriff was equally spectacular, with a 21-gun salute. Their kids grew up to respect both men and women equally, and followed in the family tradition. And just as Deputy Kitty and the Sheriff got used to locking up old Packin' Heat Pete, their kids also regularly put him in the slammer.
When Packin' Heat Pete got too old for such shenanigans any more, his kids took over the family business so that Deputy Kitty and the Sheriff's kids were never out of work. And thus the tradition continued, and it may continue to this day.
The End.
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