Hickok strolled into the saloon and walked up to the bar. He
motioned to bartender who put a bottle and glass in front of him and got out of
the way. The Marshal looked up at reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He
could see the table with Thompson, Doc and Hardin. With Phil Coe on his right
he was boxed in. He did not see very worried.
Coe walked up next to him and put his hands on the bar. “Why
did you decide to come here Hickok?” You know you are not welcome here.” Wild
Bill glanced at him. Smiled. Took a sip of his drink. Chuckled.
“You turning away business Coe. No wonder you boys are doing
so poorly. Not half bright are you pilgrim?”
Ben Thompson got up and walked to the other side of Hickok. “Now
there is no reason to tussle boys. Don’t listen to Phil. He has been feeling
poorly. You are certainly welcome here Marshal.”
“That’s good to know Ben but this is my town and I will go
where I damn well please. No card slick with a dead muskrat on his face has a
say.”“I say what I damn well please Hickok” blurted Coe. “It ain’t your nevermind. You just can’t abide that I am the best shot in this damned town. Hell in Kansas for that matter. I can shoot down a bird on the wing.”
“Maybe pilgrim but is that bird shorting back?”
“Well we will just have to see what we will see Marshal.”
“Not tonight” said Ben Thompson as he sidled in between Coe
and Hickok. “Marshal why don’t you join me over at my table. We can get up a
game. Come and set with John Wesly Hardin and John Holliday over at my table.
Drinks on the house.”
“Well that sounds like a hospitable offer Ben. Don’t mind if
I do. We will take this up later Mr. Coe.”
“Anytime Marshal. Any old time at all.”
30 comments:
I've meant to ask you, Trooper. What did you think of the portrayal of Hickock in Deadwood?
I see Al Roker and Joe Scarborough ripped the new Mayor on the snow removal clusterfuck. Maybe this guy is one and done.
The only thing this story lacks is Laslo Spatula! Who appears to be wandering around in the dark, unsupervised but intrepid.
Laslo Spatula said...
Professor, foremost be intrepid in advancing the cause of trepid.
1/22/14, 10:35 AM
Blogger Meade said...
Laslo, please email me.
1/22/14, 10:36 AM
Hey, ND! Your story about growing up in Bristol (over at Jonathan Turley's) is a good one. Fit for pasting elsewhere, if or when things ever get slow. Just sayin'.
It was 50 degrees here Tuesday morning. Took both my dogs on a 3 mile walk.
Got back, the weather turned. By nightfall it was snowing.
It hasn't been above freezing since then and the snow is still here - this is much worse than our first blizzard - this time most of the lawn was covered with snow.
Good news is, I am continuing the interior work. I replaced the old fan with a new one - but the fan does not work. Went back to the store that sold it to me - they asked if I had installed the receiving unit for the remote. Well, there's your problem right there - they hadn't included one in the original deal. Perhaps today I will sort that out.
One major decorating change I did was to move the desk out of the bedroom and put it out here in the whatever this room is called. Media room, I guess. I am typing this missive on my old computer which is now sitting on top of the desk behind a nice box that holds the monitor. The box has 2 spalted maple doors that have kind of wavy contours on the fronts - shaped on my CNC, an oak base supported by 4 turned round feet, and an oak top.
Yesterday I wanted to build a small shell to hold the power supply and speakers and modem, but it was too cold to work in the shop. I am just that delicate.
Next, I will hang a small cabinet behind and above all this - it has a hand carved granary door from Africa that I bought on eBay - I built a walnut cabinet to fit the door and it is where I store my software. I think it will be just fabulous when I pull it all together.
Here's to warmer weather, wherever you are, except Spinelli - you desert crawlin' mook. I hope you get sunburned!
Thanks, Mama. I come here for sanity and friendship. I go there to fight evil.
Sixty, The only part of my body that burns is my bald head. 15 sunscreen takes care of that. There's a very good Jewish deli here named, Sherman's. Had great pastrami on rye the other day. One of the few places outside of NYC where you can get black and white cookies.
Thanks to the generosity of a certain author related by marriage to someone who comments here, I was able to buy a hat.
I purchased the Real Deal Amazon recycled canvas hat, as worn by Woody Harrelson in "Zombie Land".
It arrived Tuesday morning and I wore it all day. It was too cold for me to go out to the shop to build a hat rack, so I flopped my new hat on my kitchen table.
Later, that same day I noticed it was wet - hmm - what th' - hey - a cat peed on it! What the hell?!?!
So, I washed it, have been trying to deodorize it and I hope that by the time summer gets here it will be suitable.
But that raises the question - why did that cat pick that particular hat to pee on? Was it some odor still in the canvas from it's life covering trucks in the jungle? Was it because I had worn it? What the heck, kitty - why you pee on my hat?
Sixty, you need nature's miracle for the hat. they make a just for cats formula.
if you don't have that--white vinegar is next best.
don't ask why I'm an expert in anti cat pee. because then I'll have to explain why I haven't shot the little bitches yet.
And I have no answer for that.
Sixty, I believe its a compliment of some kind in cat-ese.
Or maybe you didn't clean the litter box.
or they're pissed about something else. or they don't like the redecorating--cats are funny like that.
Or it's just messin' wif yo head. Cats'll do that, too.
Is that really Doc in the pic? He was kind of handsome.
In the picture at the top of this post, Darcy?
That's James Butler Hickock. AKA Wild Bill.
Early in his career he was called "Duck Bill"...he grew the stache to distract...
He was a dandy Darcy.
Not as handsome as Doc but still a Dandy.
Pearl handled revolvers carried in a red sash. Very stylish! I hope that style makes a comeback.
Every single one of the points raised about inappropriate feline micurition is right on target. I am doing what I can here - returning some of the furniture to where it used to reside, changed the kitty litter and I will look into nature's miracle. Could sure use one about now.
I can think of better ways to compliment someone, but then again, I have frontal lobes. Or did! Ha!
And if I wear that hat my head will definitely be messed with.
Pissed about something - bunch o' freakin' comedians here!
Oh! I should have known that was Hickock. Thank you!
What's up with Hickock's hair? It looks two tone. Was that a style then?
Pissed about something - bunch o' freakin' comedians here!
Entertained MrM with this saga, which helped strengthen the bond that has (more than once) in the past been tested by cat pee in strange places. (Worst one was my suitcase, but MrM will contend it was his computer bag)
From Sixty's "What the heck, kitty - why you pee on my hat?" to Cody's "don't ask why...because then I'll have to explain..." with all the reasons given, this story was enjoyed.
One reason not mentioned for them being pissy is the fact that Cats have not forgotten the days when they were once considered to be gods in Egypt, and jealous gods they still are, especially when it comes to homages being paid to others in the form of fine things. Which is why they like to sit on anything new that's been brought into their abode and do not countenance the rabbel moving their furnishings around.
If it's an old beloved male with previously consistent litter use doing the peeing, it could be urine issues, which in my experience has been effectively handled with a change to different (more expensive) food. If it's a recently acquired street cat or stray doing the peeing, good luck, those habits are easily activated by smell and hard to change.
Oops, rabble. As in, why aren't there more women here? Is it the rabble?
Our cats are outside cats, although sub-zero nights they are allowed to keep warm in the basement. My daughter's cat has peed in the house twice. In my shoe and in the box that my son's slot cars and track were kept. Don't know what's up with that.
It's puzzling to me what instinct triggered that.
One of the funniest moments of Breaking Bad was when Hector Salamanca, the guy in the wheelchair with his bell, shit himself at the DEA office. Then, we have good advice from Tony Soprano, telling us not to shit where we eat.
People and animals sometimes shit selectively, other times indiscriminately. So, what triggers the purposeful act of shitting in an inappropriate setting...time or place?
And why do people like the blond bitch blogger, Meade the testiculess, or batshit crazy Crack choose to shit in public, where they eat, and in other people's space?
What instinct could be driving that? What need does it fulfill? I understand why Hector Salamanca shit himself. But what happened to that group in childhood or early adulthood that manifests itself in such a primitive, unsophisticated, anti-social, rude manner?
That's some fucked up shit right there.
Note of trivia, the cat with the cap in the avatar is the one who pissed in my shoe.
One of the reasons I hope there's an afterlife, has to do with my desire to figure out some of the mysteries behind the veil. The broken link thing when it comes to animal behavior drives me nuts sometimes, because it can be so predictable and workable except when it's not
When it comes to human brokenness and the fucked up shit there, I think much of what goes on happens because someone didn't learn how to live in balance with no and yes. Knowing good and evil is a helluva thing.
MamaM - you are starting to sound like me now! Step away from the keyboard. Lie down. Do some yoga.
Okay, that last was meant as a poke at our racist in absentia, and I was just kidding about the rest.
Carry on...
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