CHAPTER 7
Sinister Grim arranged two caskets.
"Give ‘em a decent burial," said one of the town’s people.
"Baaaah," said Sinister Grim. He coughed and his sunken eyes seemed to pop out, then recess into his skull-looking head. He loaded up the bodies and ferried them away on his horse drawn buggy. Mosquitoes picked at his neck and left disappointed.
Everybody sauntered back into the bar and ordered drinks. Useless P. Clodstopper had another whiskey and sat at a table in the back of the saloon by the stairway to the whores. The piano player opened the piano and began at the keys with his rendition of a traditional Western saloon song. Old drunk Barney Gritchen began to sing as he rolled in the vomit and blood. Things were back to normal, or so it seemed.
But then, SHE appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a white fluffy dress. Her hair was flowing. Her eyes; painted up and blinking. Her lips; a big red blob-O’-suck. Her boobs; protruding and plenty. Her legs; long and slender. She was a real woman. The kind of girl you wouldn’t mind sniffing. And Useless was looking up her dress at her hairy clump O’ bush.
"You," she said.
"Uh," said the Sheriff as he loosened his tie. "Err," he continued.
"No!" she said. "I said, YOU!" She began a sexy walk down the stairs. Her radiant effervescence protruded. "You burly man," she continued. "You look like a feller’ who needs some lovin’"
"Love," he repeated.
"Yeah," she said, "…love."
He unzipped his fly and scratched the crabs. She dug the sheep-hair tampon out of her pussy and cast it aside, subtly. It landed on Old Barney Gritchen’s mouth, and he began to chew.
"You ever fan dangle in the cold dark night?" she asked. She reached the bottom of the stairway and took the empty seat across the table from the new Sheriff. Her legs were spread in a suggestive and inviting way. She looked into his eyes and her eyes said, "Karakul."
"I can’t," he said to her, presuming that she wanted to Mongo. "You see, I’m the new Sheriff in town."
"Oh yeah?" she asked, her eyelids batting. "What’s your name?"
"The name’s, Useless P. Clodstopper. What’s yours?"
"They call me, Whore Betty. But you can call me, Whore."
"Look, Whore," he said. "You look good, and your dress is nice, and I’m sure if we got down to it, you’d jiggle my gun, but a Sheriff has a higher calling. The calling of law and order."
"Is that so?" she flirted. She reached over and put her hand on his leg.
"I’m gonna’ clean up this town, lady," The Sheriff assured her, "And the last thing I need is a Whore." He kissed her lightly on the neck. She quivered with delight. "There’s bad men uh’commin’ and I mean to take ‘em down." He patted her titties. She put a finger in her mouth and drooled a long string of saliva which found its way to her navel, and beyond. "And what I’m tellin’ you is, I ain’t got no time for pluggin’ the dyke, if you know what I mean." He put his fist in her ass. She threw her legs over her head and began to thrust. Several of the card players looked on, smiling their toothless grins. "And there is no way…" He exposed his tiny prick and stuffed it between his fist and her labia, "I’m gonna’…" He began to pump. "… make it with a…," he ejaculated and threw his head about like a bucking steer with a razor blade in its ass, "whore."
She retracted her breasts and then they blew outwards ejecting two streams of liquid, and her magic mound dropped what seemed like a waterfall, and her legs shook and she looked up at the sky and pronounced several never-before-heard words. Including the words, "Unkanabinki," "Yaksplat…" and "Shreepot!"
They clasped each other in a tangle of arms. "Is this love?" she asked.
"No," the Sheriff replied. "This is business." He stood up, finished his whiskey, and made his way to the front of the saloon. "Now, listen up, everybody!" he shouted. The piano player stopped playing. The card players ducked under the tables. Grizzard the Rip dropped for cover behind the bar. Old Barney Gritchen spit out the tampon.
"I’m the new Sheriff in town!" Clodstopper announced. "Things are gonna’ be uh’changin’! There’s gonna’ be no more shootin’, no more robbin’, no more ducking for cover, and no more cheatin’ at cards!" And then he began his song.
"Oh…..
I got my guns and uh got my star
I’m just here to keep the lar (law)
Nobody better shoot-me-in-the-back
Or else I’ll shoot them ten times back
I’m the Sheriff and my name is Clodstopper
Anyone breaks the law, I’ll make yore heart stopperopper
And if you don’t like my song
You don’t have to sing along!"
The Sheriff spun around and performed a little jig. Then he encouraged the crowd to join in. The piano player began to play. The card players came out from their hiding places under the table and began to leave. Old Barney Gritchen, the town drunk, died of liver disease, and the bartender drank the last of the whiskey and passed out rather quickly.
"And if you don’t like my song," continued the Sheriff, "You don’t have to sing along! Okay, everybody join me…"
There was silence.
Sinister Grim arranged two caskets.
"Give ‘em a decent burial," said one of the town’s people.
"Baaaah," said Sinister Grim. He coughed and his sunken eyes seemed to pop out, then recess into his skull-looking head. He loaded up the bodies and ferried them away on his horse drawn buggy. Mosquitoes picked at his neck and left disappointed.
Everybody sauntered back into the bar and ordered drinks. Useless P. Clodstopper had another whiskey and sat at a table in the back of the saloon by the stairway to the whores. The piano player opened the piano and began at the keys with his rendition of a traditional Western saloon song. Old drunk Barney Gritchen began to sing as he rolled in the vomit and blood. Things were back to normal, or so it seemed.
But then, SHE appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a white fluffy dress. Her hair was flowing. Her eyes; painted up and blinking. Her lips; a big red blob-O’-suck. Her boobs; protruding and plenty. Her legs; long and slender. She was a real woman. The kind of girl you wouldn’t mind sniffing. And Useless was looking up her dress at her hairy clump O’ bush.
"You," she said.
"Uh," said the Sheriff as he loosened his tie. "Err," he continued.
"No!" she said. "I said, YOU!" She began a sexy walk down the stairs. Her radiant effervescence protruded. "You burly man," she continued. "You look like a feller’ who needs some lovin’"
"Love," he repeated.
"Yeah," she said, "…love."
He unzipped his fly and scratched the crabs. She dug the sheep-hair tampon out of her pussy and cast it aside, subtly. It landed on Old Barney Gritchen’s mouth, and he began to chew.
"You ever fan dangle in the cold dark night?" she asked. She reached the bottom of the stairway and took the empty seat across the table from the new Sheriff. Her legs were spread in a suggestive and inviting way. She looked into his eyes and her eyes said, "Karakul."
"I can’t," he said to her, presuming that she wanted to Mongo. "You see, I’m the new Sheriff in town."
"Oh yeah?" she asked, her eyelids batting. "What’s your name?"
"The name’s, Useless P. Clodstopper. What’s yours?"
"They call me, Whore Betty. But you can call me, Whore."
"Look, Whore," he said. "You look good, and your dress is nice, and I’m sure if we got down to it, you’d jiggle my gun, but a Sheriff has a higher calling. The calling of law and order."
"Is that so?" she flirted. She reached over and put her hand on his leg.
"I’m gonna’ clean up this town, lady," The Sheriff assured her, "And the last thing I need is a Whore." He kissed her lightly on the neck. She quivered with delight. "There’s bad men uh’commin’ and I mean to take ‘em down." He patted her titties. She put a finger in her mouth and drooled a long string of saliva which found its way to her navel, and beyond. "And what I’m tellin’ you is, I ain’t got no time for pluggin’ the dyke, if you know what I mean." He put his fist in her ass. She threw her legs over her head and began to thrust. Several of the card players looked on, smiling their toothless grins. "And there is no way…" He exposed his tiny prick and stuffed it between his fist and her labia, "I’m gonna’…" He began to pump. "… make it with a…," he ejaculated and threw his head about like a bucking steer with a razor blade in its ass, "whore."
She retracted her breasts and then they blew outwards ejecting two streams of liquid, and her magic mound dropped what seemed like a waterfall, and her legs shook and she looked up at the sky and pronounced several never-before-heard words. Including the words, "Unkanabinki," "Yaksplat…" and "Shreepot!"
They clasped each other in a tangle of arms. "Is this love?" she asked.
"No," the Sheriff replied. "This is business." He stood up, finished his whiskey, and made his way to the front of the saloon. "Now, listen up, everybody!" he shouted. The piano player stopped playing. The card players ducked under the tables. Grizzard the Rip dropped for cover behind the bar. Old Barney Gritchen spit out the tampon.
"I’m the new Sheriff in town!" Clodstopper announced. "Things are gonna’ be uh’changin’! There’s gonna’ be no more shootin’, no more robbin’, no more ducking for cover, and no more cheatin’ at cards!" And then he began his song.
"Oh…..
I got my guns and uh got my star
I’m just here to keep the lar (law)
Nobody better shoot-me-in-the-back
Or else I’ll shoot them ten times back
I’m the Sheriff and my name is Clodstopper
Anyone breaks the law, I’ll make yore heart stopperopper
And if you don’t like my song
You don’t have to sing along!"
The Sheriff spun around and performed a little jig. Then he encouraged the crowd to join in. The piano player began to play. The card players came out from their hiding places under the table and began to leave. Old Barney Gritchen, the town drunk, died of liver disease, and the bartender drank the last of the whiskey and passed out rather quickly.
"And if you don’t like my song," continued the Sheriff, "You don’t have to sing along! Okay, everybody join me…"
There was silence.