HIGH NOON

Written by: poohbear_nc

Illustrated by: bratzzo

Compiled by: dsvick

Hosted at: www.mobileread.com

Commented on by: just about everyone

THE LEGAL DISCLAIMER

All characters and events are strictly and totally imaginary. They are the products of a fevered and diseased imaginative state caused by living in plus 100 F temperatures.

Any resemblance to any living person or avatar -- even if it's your own name and face -- is strictly coincidental and will be laughed out of court! You're more likely to win an iPad in a contest than ever win libelous or defamatory damages from me!

INTRODUCTION

It began as a joke. A way to pass the time waiting for the winner of a contest to be announced. A way to gently poke fun at authority figures [we won't go into the irony of that now!]. A way to play with other MR members, and make them laugh.

Then there was a positive response. And a plot, or at least a story line. And characters - real, living characters drawn from the wondrous melange that inhabit this magical place. And I was hooked! And apparently so were you. Every episode was greeted with applause and demands for more. And I kept writing. And the saga was born! I read every comment on the saga, received numerous plot suggestions, and realized I had become a writer of sorts without really noticing when it happened. Thank you! Very much!

But like all living things, the saga had to be brought to a close. Resolutions to be found. A winner to announce!

But also like all living things, it's not dead! It's just having a little lie-down of sorts. I'm sure it will return, in some guise, so stay tuned.

Finally, and most importantly, this saga is dedicated to MobileRead member Katti's Cat and her MOTH, who are passing through a very dark passage of their lives. Perhaps reading this short work, and finding herself in it, will help Katti grow stronger and return to us all waiting here for her.

....poohbear_nc

Praise for High Noon

"Pooh should have been writing stories...

I like his writing. He will continue until I tell him to stop." - Recluse

"more more more more !!!!!!" - GeoffC

"...just won the now-there's-a-word-you-don't-see-every-day award." - Vintage Season

"High Noon is wonderful!!" - Javed

"This is funny stuff." - WT Sharpe

"Thank you! Thank you! I'm starting to think maybe I need this, more than the iPad." - Rebarnmom

"I keep coming back for more!" - Davimee

"Who needs an iPad? Give me pooh's stories every day" - omk3

"tushies!" - kindlekitten

"applauds the chicken!" - Mare of Earth

A hero's path...

HIGH NOON

The relentless sun beats down on the parched town of MR-Rock, dirty and dusty as last week's socks. Tumble weed blows down deserted streets, shutters bang in the hot, fitful wind, and faded shades try to keep out the sun.

A dark speck on the horizon slowly grows larger as a dusty, bedraggled stranger limps into town. The stranger's clothes are sweat-stained, filthy, and torn. His face is in no better condition. He carries battered saddlebags over his shoulder - his horse died days ago. He's been on the run -- a long time.

Now it's time to come home. He barely has the strength to push through the swinging doors of the Llounge saloon. It's just as hot inside, but blessedly darker. As he stands inside, letting his blasted eyes adjust to the dim and smoky room, a sultry voice with a faded French accent asks "New in town, are you?" As he turns towards the voice, he nearly falls over a tired gray dog, whose dusty coat blends perfectly with the dirty board floor. Only his colorful hat allows folk to avoid stepping on him.

Then he sees HER - a lovely French flower past her prime but still noticeable in this hell-hole. "My name's Zelda," she whispered, "buy me a drink?" She flounced closer, shoving the doggie aside with a stiletto black heel. Her drooping flounces and frills looked like a painting in a museum to the tired traveler -- the most color he'd seen in a while. "I sure could use a Sasparilla," she breathed, and led him to a long wooden bar, scarred by untold gun and knife fights.

The barkeep sidled over and said "What'll you have stranger?"

"Whiskey," he grated in a voice dry as dust, and just as hopeless. "And a Sasparilla for the little lady." "Lady!" chortled the barkeep, "You've got a lot to learn here boy!" Zelda ignored the barb and snuggled closer to the stranger.

As he poured the drinks, the barkeep said "They call me Doc Pshrynk. What do you answer to son?"

"Alex," sighed the stranger. It had been a long time since he had admitted his true name.

"Hmmm," mused Doc, "there used to be an Alex living in these parts. Then one day he up and vanished. Took the town's iPad with him too. Since then we've been completely cut off from the rest of the world. Yup. Even with its spotty wifi connectivity, it was our only connection. Everyone used it. Then it was gone. Now look at us - a sorry, forgotten lot."

As Doc told his sorry tale, the gray dog wandered over and begged for a treat. Doc dropped a stale chocolate donut and said "Chew slowly boy, that's the last one. No way to re-order now!"

After taking care of the donut, the doggie began sniffing at the stranger's saddlebags, which had slipped to the floor as Zelda continued her moves on the stranger. Suddenly loud barking filled the saloon, as the doggie frantically scratched and dug at the saddlebags.

"Whatcha got in there Alex," asked the barkeep as he bent over and lifted them onto the bar. Alex lunged to grab the bags, but was held in the surprisingly strong arms of his French chanteuse!

"That's mine," he shouted, "You can't open them!"

"Well now," mused Doc, "you gotta pay for them drinks. Let's see what sort of cash you're carrying."

Everyone in the saloon gasped as Doc opened the saddlebag and spilled the missing iPad onto the bar! And then all eyes turned to the ashen-faced Alex. Even the doggie's!

SON OF HIGH NOON

The silence in the saloon thickened until you could have sliced it with a dull Bowie knife. The gibbon playing the piano stopped playing and twirled lazily on his stool, absently cracking his hairy knuckles. Zelda kept her grip on the trembling Alex, who couldn't keep his eyes off the iPad. Neither could anyone else in the bar! Zelda opened her crimson-painted lips to scream when .....

The swing doors to the saloon swung slowly open, and a man with a bright gold star on his shirt walked in, followed by a short dude wearing a tattered tuxedo coat and carrying an umbrella. "I'm the sheriff in this town, stranger," he growled. "Folks call me HarryT. HarryTheSheriff that is." This is my deputy, pilotbob. Don't let his get-up fool you. He's meaner than a rattlesnake in heat and a durn deadly shot with that umbrella-shooter he carries."

"Now, what's going on here? What's this I hear about the town's missing iPad? And who is this good-for-nothing low down lurking loner that Miss Zelda's got in her claws?"

Doc jumped in hastily to explain. But before he could even get the first word out, a high-pitched squeal erupted from the stairs!

"ALEX my darling! You're back! You did come back for me like you promised! I knew you'd return! I'm the only one that trusted you! I knew you could never forget your dreams-girl!"

All this caterwauling was coming from a small but well-built blonde leaning over the stair railing, her low-cut bodice exhibiting her assets for free to the leering crowd below.

"Oh great," muttered Doc "Here comes the town blonde bimbo right on cue."

BRIDE OF HIGH NOON

As Alex slumped in the clutches of the fierce French Fraulein, his lips silently moved as he thought "Well, things can't get much worse now, can they?"

Bad move.

The doors behind the dreams-girl flew open and more screaming women erupted onto the landing, all attesting their unflagging devotion to Alex.

"This is just great," muttered HarryTheSheriff, "now the whole cat house comes out to play."

Doc stepped forward and bellowed: "Now, now, ladies. Yes you Verencat, and Miss Nekokami, Yes you too. Everyone step back and behave. Let the sheriff do his job."

Everyone was crowding around Alex, but the iPad drew all eyes like a magnet pulling in iron filings. Eager fingers stretched forward to stroke the dusty touch screen. Townsfolk began reminiscing: "Do you remember the App that we used to use? Wonder if it's still there. Maybe it's been updated?"

Alex kept whimpering "It's mine. Don't touch it. It's mine. I'm not going to give it to anybody! I'm keeping it! Let go of me! I want to leave!"

As Alex disappeared into a crowd of feminine fur and furbelows, Sheriff HarryT gingerly picked up the iPad and held it up to his faded blue eyes.

"Sure looks like our iPad folks. But we ought to make sure before we hang the varmint."

"Who remembers how to use this dang thing? Does anyone still have a copy of the instructions?"

Doc shouted "Get the librarian! Miss Patricia has a copy of every book in this town! In multiple formats! She'll have a copy!"

The gray doggie ran out under the swing doors towards the library, fronted by its Greek marble columns. He soon returned, followed by a tall woman wearing long robes and muttering "I don't know. The iPad used a closed system. You couldn't side-load files into it unless blessed by Saint Jobs. I'm not sure if we can jail-break it."

The crowd parted in front of her, like wheat before a tornado! Sheriff HarryT reverently passed the iPad to her and waited for her response.

HIGH NOON THE SAGA

Before Miss Patricia could lay hands on the infernal device, the swing doors burst open as the town lawyer, Mr. Sharp Tom, ran in shouting "Don't hang him yet! We must follow due process! We only lost an iPad, not our humanity!"

He glared around him and demanded "Where's the prisoner, errr, I mean defendant? What have you savage fiends done with him?"

An outburst of girlish giggles answered his stentorian shouts, and Lawyer Tom bravely waded into a gaggle of lace and leather clad ladies all vying to assist Alex in remembering why he had returned to MR-Rock. The sometimes bad, sometimes good Deb was arm-wrestling with the Kindlish kitten for dibs on Alex's torso, whilst Verencat was chasing his bolo tie ends screaming "string!" Neko was just removing her camisole when Lawyer Tom scattered them all by thundering "Raid! Head for the hills! It's Sheriff HarryT and he needs more money for his retirement fund! Anyone that doesn't scurry off in the next 10 seconds will get arrested and fined!"

Unfortunately the ladies (and Alex) were squealing so loud, nobody hear the soft-spoken Lawyer Tom. Ever resourceful, he pulled out a catnip mouse and threw it through the swing doors, stepping aside as a thundering herd exited the cat house to follow the elusive rodent. He found Alex slumped in the dust with claw marks covering his face and torso. Muttering that the town would be responsible for the costs of rabies and tetanus shots, Lawyer Tom helped Alex back to his feet and led him to the bar, where the townsfolk that hadn't chased after the cat crowd remained staring at the forlorn iPad.

Alex continued his plaint: "It's mine. I'm not going to give it away to anybody. You can't make me. It's mine. I'm keeping it."

"We'll see about that" boomed a new voice in the fracas, as the great Judge Nate waddled forwards. Dressed in vest and frock coat, his jowls hanging over his collar and tie, he looked just like a pelican! A formally dressed pelican!

HIGH NOON THE DIRECTOR'S CUT

All eyes turned to Judge Nate and the babble hushed to a low rumble. Alex cringed behind Zelda as the mighty waterfowl of justice waddled up to the bar counter. His big eyes nearly popped out of his head!

"It's back," he whispered in a reverential tone, "It's finally back. I can finally catch up on Lost and Doctor Who."

He wheeled around and fixed his gimlet stare on Alex. "Who is this varmint? And how did he happen to be carrying OUR iPad?" he roared.

Lawyer Tom cleared his throat, about to launch into a defense of liberty, justice, and the possible loss of his fees in the event of a lynching. But his peroration was abruptly canceled before it began by a quavery voice at the saloon door: "Don't make me use the big stick you blankety blank whippersnappers!"

The crowd flew back from the wild and willful wavings of a large knobby stick, closely followed by the oldest, meanest-looking, angriest granny the town had ever seen!

"Oh lord," muttered the Judge, it's old grandma from the desert. How in Hades did she hear about this already?"

Alex took one look at the harridan advancing toward him and slumped to the floor. Zelda leaped behind the bar, knocking Doc into his shelf of whiskey bottles.

Grandma stumped forward, bent over the recumbent Alex, and in a hideous parody of a maternal voice crooned "Poor baby. Near parched to death and all they gave you was whiskey. And look - your clothes need a good wash and mend. Son, you need the care of a kindly female to get you back to rights."

And with surprising strength in her wiry frame, she scooped up Alex and slung him over her shoulder, grabbing the iPad with her other hand.

The gray doggie leapt up to snatch the iPad out of her grasp as both the Judge and Sheriff Harry shouted "Oh no you don't."

Grandma wheeled about, leveling her stick at them, and snarled "Yeah? And just who's gonna stop me?"

"I reckon that would be me, ma'am" drawled the deputy everyone had forgotten about. The tiny tuxedo'ed figure ambled forward leveling his umbrella at the dumb-struck grandma.

THE UNCENSORED SCRIPT

Yup, folks tended to overlook ol' pilotbob - literally. He was a soft-spoken short dude that hailed from the Mississippi - where bob used to pilot the big steam boats before river traffic got all snarled up with those moored gambling ships. He struck out west and ended up in MR-Rock, and became HarryT's indispensable right-handed gunner.

He slowly sauntered up to grandma, casually cocked his umbrella-six shooter, and said "Drop him, ma'am!" Alex slid to the floor and blearily tried to focus on the nattily-dressed figure who was pointing an umbrella over his head. Grandma ordered a double rot-gut whiskey and stood beating a tattoo on the bar with her big stick, eying the leveled umbrella.

"Now then," continued the Sheriff, "let's get some facts straight now, son. Just who are you and why did you have our stolen iPad in your saddlebags? And do you have any next of kin to notify before your lynching?"

Alex began spluttering his tired old refrain "It's my iPad. I'm not going to give it away to anyone! It's mine!"

The Sheriff nodded to pilotbob to take Alex into custody, and Lawyer Tom began spluttering again about due process and bail, when the lights suddenly dimmed even more in the dusky saloon.

A sultry voice began crooning "Falling in love again" and a spotlight suddenly illuminated the blonde bimbo dreams girl on the rickety stage, dressed to kill in satin and lace, singing her heart out while the gibbon (who always claimed he was really an orangutan adopted by gibbons) accompanied her on the out-of-tune player piano.

Everyone dropped into a chair to enjoy the impromptu performance, and no one noticed the man in black entering through the swinging doors.

THE NEVERENDING STORY

The blonde bimbo was reaching the climax of her husky ballad when a high clear note came out of the player piano. The ape threw up his paws and dove under a table. All heads snapped towards the door, where the man in black's thin cigar had just set off the smoke detector.

"Damn your safety regulations" muttered Doc in the general direction of Judge Nate. "This happens every night and just puts everyone off wanting another drink." He reached under the bar, pulled out a revolver, and shot the alarm off the top of the piano. The bullet ricocheted, blowing the bow off the blonde's head, and knocking pilotbob's umbrella out of his hand.

Totally ignoring the ensuing bedlam, the man in black entered the light cast by the lone kerosene lamp over the bar. The entire audience gasped in unison. "It's him! It's the Wolf man! JS the Wolf man! The meanest man in all of MR-Rock."

Lawyer Tom leaned over Alex and explained: "JS used to be just an ordinary cowpoke until he took it into his head to visit the Indians camped on the prairie. They made him undergo some new fangled type of spiritual initiation and it changed him bad! Way bad! When he came back to town, his appearance kept changing. One time he'd look like a bear. Then a pig. Then a flightless water fowl. But the worst was the time he looked like a man - yes a man - trapped from the neck down in a giant metal salt shaker - clawing and screaming - trying to pull hisself out of it! But you always know it's him! It's the eyes - they're lop-sided and kind of googly - in a bad kind of way. Never look directly into his eyes!"

Alex gazed at this mystery man and blinked as his appearance kept shifting, while the eyes stayed the same. Big, round, googly eyes that stayed fixed on him. He strained his ears to hear the shamanic chant coming from those grim lips: "PDF is NOT an ebook format. PDF is NOT an ebook format." What sort of devilish spell was he casting on the hapless fugitive?

The the Wolf man's eyes shifted to the iPad on the bar and the fires of Hades leaped into those soulless black eyes. His hand rose at the end of his arm -- as if lifted by puppet strings -- and his quivering index finger stabbed towards the dusty tablet. "No! No! It can't be! I cursed you, you diabolical creation of Satan! You're not perfect enough to exist in this world! You can't multitask! You don't allow personal files to be loaded! You're autonomous! I can't control you! Die! Die I command you! Die!"

And he lunged forwards, black coat tails flapping, fingers clutching like the talons of some great bird of prey....

THE DANCE REMIX

VIEWER WARNING: PG13 - Explicit anatomical references of a highly embarrassing nature contained.

A sharp rap from grandma's big stick ended the Wolf man's attempt to destroy the iPad. He slumped to the floor, where the gray doggie began to administer tongue-to-face resuscitation and go through his pockets for any stray donuts.

Sheriff HarryT and Deputy pilotbob again approached Alex and the iPad, certain now they could get both into protective custody in the broken-down MR-Rock jail.

But word of the iPad's mysterious return had been traveling through the town, from door to door, and mouth to mouth. Folks who would never be caught dead or alive in a saloon were drifting toward the Llounge, eager to see if for once rumor was truth! A large crowd gathered on the hot, dusty sidewalk and tried to see into the dusky tavern.

A tall woman wearing a beret pushed her way through the crowd into the saloon. In a voice noted for its perfect French accent and perfect diction, she caroled: "Alex! Eet ees meeee! Florence! You haff returned to meeee! Now I can finish painting your portrait! And you can pay me with your iPad as you haff promised!"

Grandma spat on the floor, cursing as no woman could or should be able to curse, and rasped "What took you so long, you Frenchie-fied floozy? Think we don't know what goes on in that so-called studio of yours? Think we didn't look in the window and see those nekkid men? Huh? And you want to be paid for lookin' at them pieces and parts? Think again sweetie!"

Sheriff HarryT bravely, if foolishly, stepped between the incensed octogenarian and the artist known as Florence. "Well," he drawled, "you claim you was painting this fellow, eh? Can you prove it?"

Florence blushed hotly and whispered "Mas oui, mon sheriffe! I never forget a tushie! Especially such a handsome tushie!"

All eyes flew to Alex, and his backside, as he tried to dig his way out through the floor boards.

Florence continued "Oui - I can prove it! All we have to do is have Alex drop his drawers next to my unfinished portrait. No one will be able to deny my claim then!"

THE EPIC SAGA OF A GENERATION

Viewer warning: This installment contains graphic nekkidness.

Well, Sheriff HarryT looked at Judge Nate, who looked at Doc, who looked over, errrr, down at Deputy pb, who looked into the doggie's eyes.

"What have we got to lose?" asked Doc, "Let's humor the little lady and get an answer to this baffling puzzle."

So the doggie was sent to Florence's "studio of ill repute" to fetch the alleged portrait of an iPad thief, or at least the tush of a thief.

The gibbon wound up the player piano and the dreams bimbo beguiled the waiting crowd with a medley of show tunes and Broadway standards. The ladies from the cat house slunk back into the saloon, licking their chops, waiting for more fun to erupt.

A packed house awaited the arrival of the portentous portrait!

The scratching of claws on hard-packed dirt, loud panting, and the occasional canine profanity announced the return of the gray doggie, clutching the portrait, discreetly concealed in a plain brown wrapper, in his sturdy jaws. Doc erected a make-shift easel on the bar using Grandma's stick and several chairs, and the portrait was proudly positioned in its place of honor.

Zelda, Deb, KK, Verencat, & Neko used their combined strength to drag Alex onto the bar next to the painting. The ape began a drum roll on the top of the piano, and the crowd held its breath! Florence stepped forward and slowly, carefully unwrapped her painting, and then dramatically stepped aside, revealing:

At the same time, Zelda de-pantsed Alex.

The crowd gasped! Florence beamed! Grandma swore up a blue streak! The doggie swooned! The ape applauded wildly!

Florence explained: "Obviously they're identical! My painting has captured the essence of Alex's derriere. I gazed at it for hours and painted the message my soul received!"

Well, Sheriff HarryT looked at Judge Nate, who looked at Doc, who looked over, errrr, down at Deputy pb, who looked into the doggie's eyes. Doc stepped forward and covered Alex from public view. Sheriff HarryT re-wrapped the painting. The doggie wept. The gibbon closed the lid over the piano keys.

Sheriff HarryT spoke first: "Well folks, if that painting is Alex's derriere, I'm a monkeys .... (the gibbon muttered savagely here), errr, we're all sadly mistaken."

Their hopes had been dashed. Florence had been sniffing the oil paints again. The town was no closer to regaining its rightful iPad. Alex was still a prisoner.

Doc leaned over the bar and asked the crest-fallen Florence "Say, Miss Florence, in addition to being the town's loose-living Bohemian artist in residence, ain't you also the school marm?"

"Why yes" responded Florence, "You know I teach grades K - 6."

"Well, ma'am," continued Doc, "If you're here now, who's watching your class?" Florence froze as the full implication of Doc's question sank in......

THE PLOT THICKENS

Lawyer Tom was just beginning to chat up Florence about defending her on child abandonment charges when suddenly the bells in the town belfry began to peal! Everyone ran to the door and window and pointed at the belfry, where a lurid green glow poured out into the darkening sky.

"It's our town recluse," observed Doc. "He only rings the bells when disaster threatens the town - like when we had that twister last year."

The bells continued their hellish din so that the ladies from the cat house only heard the word "Twister" and began screaming "Let's all play strip twister!" Doc ran to get the floor mat. Judge Nate collapsed in a chair to observe the game and make sure the rules were followed. The gibbon began a merry melody on the player piano. Florence grabbed her painting and made tracks for her studio. And the ladies -- Deb, Neko, and Kitten -- all threw themselves onto the floor mat and began spinning the little pointer. Alex grabbed the forgotten iPad and began to sidle towards the back door.

Only Zelda remained aloof, looking out the window at recluse's shadowy form still tugging mightily on the bell ropes. Suddenly her scream cut through all the clamor: "The shums! The shums are loose! Run for your lives! They're coming this way!" The saloon erupted into total bedlam as folk ran in all directions at the same time, accompanied by the relentless pealing of recluse's warning bells.

Alex tore out of the back door, narrowly missing the gray doggie lying on the back steps, and ran into the stable yard. A voice hailed him: "This way Alex. I'll help you escape! Hop aboard!" Alex leapped onto an earth-colored Mare, who promptly left hoofmarks as she dashed into the night. She stopped at the town limits and asked "Errrr, you did bring the iPad, didn't you?" Alex opened his saddlebag to display the coveted tablet, and Mare took off as if rocket-powered!

"Where are we going?" asked Alex, but received no answer.

After endless hours galloping through the moon-lit prairie, Mare and Alex arrived at the Cross-the-Road Chicken Ranch, owned by veteran chicken wrangler kennyChicken and his lovely wife iAmNotachicken, with their two lovely daughters Pshellyrose (the p is silent) and Psweetpea (the p is silent). His foreman GeoffChicken ran out to greet the visitors and help Alex down with his sacred burden.

KennyChicken, still clad in his working bib overalls, ambled over to welcome Alex. "Howdy stranger! Your face rings a bell (literally - he could hear recluse's pealing on the winds) but I don't think you've been in these parts lately. But any friend of Mare's is a friend of mine."

Mare leaned over to whisper "He's got it in his saddlebag!" before GeoffChicken led her away to the stables.

"C'mon and meet the little woman, son. Yup, I met her at the church social wearing that cute little pink hat with the chicken perched on top - and you could say it was love at first sight! We were meant for each other! And it's been pure bliss ever since."

"You're just in time for supper. I'm sure our Eye-talian cook beppe has rustled up something real special for us tonight!"

MY DINNER WITH ALEX

Alex let himself be led into the big red farmhouse and was introduced to the two daughters, lovely Pshellyrose clad entirely in red floral patterns, and Psweetpea who purred when introduced to the handsome stranger wearing the weary but knowing smirk under his dusty Stetson! The two little ladies vied with one another to gain his attention and monopolize his conversation.

"Shame, shame" cried their mother, the shortest woman Alex had ever looked over, errr, had ever seen, "leave the poor boy alone until at least after supper." KennyC(hicken) saw his bemused stare and explained "Yup, she might be short but she's the best cuddler this side of the Pecos." IAm blushed prettily and said "Oh pa! Don't embarrass me in front of our guest."

Just then Alex was saved from further conversational forays by the sound of the dinner gong: "Cock-a-doodle-do" reverberated over the ranch, causing all the nesting hens to shriek madly inside the barns.

KennyC hauled Alex into the brightly lit dining room and sat him down between his two daughters, who simpered and primped using their shining dinner plates as mirrors.

Then chef beppe, "the terror of all pullets," and his shy, quiet assistant Davimeet-ya began serving the dinner. It was ALL chicken! Course after course after course of chicken. Beppe and Davimeet-ya groaned under the trays of gallinaceous gourmet pickings. Chicken soup. Chicken cheese sticks. Roast chicken. Fried chicken. Cold chicken. Chicken nuggets. Chicken slivers. ....... Alex's head swam with horror as he heard his host declaim: "Yup, we love chicken here. All chickens. All the time. We have chicken every day for every meal. We even dream of chickens. Chickens are my best friends. My little girls grew up in the hen house playing with their meals." And on and on and on went the devilish diatribe until Alex became pale and faint. The two girls accentuated their father's speech by clutching Alex's thigh excitedly just thinking about chickens.

Just when Alex thought he would scream if he heard the word chicken one more time, the drums began .... at first faintly in the far distance, but then growing loud and rhythmic as the individual drummers found their beat. Desperate to change the dinner table topic of non-conversation, Alex innocently asked "Who's playing the drums? Is it a neighboring ranch?"

KennyC's face darkened at once, suffused with rage and hatred. "Them's the drums of those heathenish Oz-Indians! They live in the middle of nowhere and obey no laws of man or land. They claim their tribe sprang forth on a continent of their own, but can't explain how they ended up here in our desert. They claim that their tribal motto is 'Better living through chemicals' - but every time one of them varmints yells it they all fall down howling and laughing like wild godless apes."

"At first they weren't too bad as neighbors -- until they started stealing the chicken feed and fermenting it into grain mash -- and making their own rot-gut whiskey! Out of perfectly good, nutritious chicken feed! What a waste!"

"They're led by a shaman, Mountsymagazines - you'll recognize him right off with his heathenish face paint and ungodly hat. He claims to have a big ugly hairy gibbon as his familiar."

Alex broke in excitedly "Yes -- I saw him at the Llounge Saloon playing the piano."

"Right," agreed IAm, "when Mags doesn't need him for scrying and casting spells, the gibbon has a day job at the saloon. He's the only one strong enough to wind the rolls and pump the pedals on that old piece of junk they call a pianer!"

"The shaman is the one who turned Wolf man into the creature he is today. Did you meet him too at the saloon?"

Alex shuddered as he remembered those demonic, brooding mis-matched googly eyes peering into his soul.

GeoffChicken ran in the door just then and announced: "Boss! Come quick! Those dang-blamed Oz-Injuns are on the move! Coming this way! And they have their queen riding with them!" Shrill hennish screams rang out over the ranch! Chickens were trying to fly!

CIRCLE THE WAGONS!!

Alex ran to the door with the chicken rancher and his family, and saw a cloud of dust approaching the ranch. Brightly clad figures could be barely made out as the approaching horde began circling the helpless ranch!

IAm cried out "Look! There's the queen! Queen Katti'sCat herself! And her royal consort MOTT (Man Of The Teepee) She was cursed by a neighboring tribe's shaman with brain fever - real bad brain fever - and the Oz-ians thought they were going to lose her. But their own shaman Mountsymags and his big ape did some powerful magic along with the rest of the tribe - and she's riding proud and tall again. A little slow yet - but she ain't giving up! No how! No way! We're doomed!"

Alex peered into the dust cloud and asked "Who's that slinky sexy woman in blue jammies?"

"Oh -- that's SS - the Ozian's warrior princess. She's as mean as a snake - and just as deadly!"

"And look - there's the Bird Woman lene-loo-hoo - with her little circle of flying friends. Watch out or they'll land poo-bombs on your head!"

By now Alex was becoming totally confused, trying to pick out each Oz-ian as they flashed by. He saw Mountsymags - propeller spinning wildly on his cap, swinging a crowbar around his head. There was nomeskittyque scribbling a description of the battle for publication even before it happened! And hordes more of the gaudily clad wild denizens from the land down under civilized world. They made his head spin as they flashed by on horseback!

Then disaster struck! SS rode in swiftly, seized Alex (and his saddlebags containing the iPad) and threw him over her saddle - in the blink of an eye Alex and the Oz-ians (AND THE iPAD) were gone! Only a huge cloud of dust remained, choking the rancher's family and causing the hens to cough mightily.

"Pa -- what'll we do?" cried IAm. We've lost the iPad! Pshellyrose and Psweetpea began screeching when they realized they had lost Alex too!

KennyC(hicken) grimly walked back to the ranch office and ordered GeoffC(hicken) "Quick! Wake up joyous_cowpat - the fastest man ever to key in messages on the telegraph! Sober him up and have him send out a SOS - this is a job for dave's robotic rangers!"

GeoffC ran into the bunkhouse and found joyous_cowpat already bent over the telegraph apparatus, clicking the send key so fast his hand was a blur heating the air over it!

"Quick, stop what you're doing! We need to send a SOS to the garrison. Those dang blamed Oz-ians have kidnapped Alex and stolen OUR iPad! Have Ranger dave ride out immediately with his robotic rangers and track down those savages before they break the iPad. Oh, and bring back Alex if SS is done with him."

j_c didn't even pause in his maniacal clicking, and said "No problem. I've already posted your SOS at dave's, while also posting obscene messages on the Oz-ian's bulletin board and alerting the town to your catastrophe!" "And I ordered some pizzas, since they took beppe too - and he's the only one here who knows how to cook chicken!"

A HERO IS BORN!

Gentle reader, let us hover o'er the Oz-Injun camp, in particular over one softly lit teepee that seems to be convulsing from the activity within. Let us gently place an ear against the brightly painted canvas and listen a little to the sweet nothings being exchanged between SS and her captive Alex:

SS: "Stop struggling dang you! I have to search you for the iPad!"

Alex: "I keep telling you -- it's in my saddlebags - that you gave to Queen KC!"

SS: "I tell you I'm going to search you anyway - hold still!"

Alex: "I'm not going to wear blue jammies with kitties on them!"

SS: "Then you'll go nekkid!"

Alex: "For petes sake, somebody save me!"

Let's leave the lovebirds to their unique courting rituals and return to the devastated hamlet of MR-Rock, after the stampede of the shums!

**********

Moonlight bathes the tiny, dusty, and tired town of MR-Rock. The empty streets are littered with broken glass, bits of wood, and empty juice boxes dropped by the rampaging shums. The weary townsfolk have finally captured the last rampant shum and returned all to their places of captivity, errr residence. The battle between the generations is finally over for today. A new battle looms on the horizon.

The alarm bells have been silenced! Kindlish kitten had crupt up the belfrey stairs and pushed a kitten through the cat flap in recluse's door. She waited until she heard purring - from both the kitten and recluse. Cute kittens could always calm ol' recluse after a shum attack!

Figures of authority, concerned citizens, and town drunks have filtered back into what's left of the Llounge Saloon. Doc is busily filling glasses and taking musical requests for the gibbon at the player piano .... who has mysteriously vanished! Doc jumps onto the bar and shouts "Is there a musician in the house?" No one answers. "Dang," he mutters, "without the piano music to distract the customers, I can't water down the whiskey tonight! I'm gonna dock that ape's wages big time for this!" "I better call the girls down early to provide some entertainment for this crowd."

Sheriff HarryT and Judge Nate were huddled at table in the back of the room, discussing the missing iPad situation. Deputy Bob joined them, along with the gray doggie.

"We've got to track down that varmint Alex and get our town's iPad back! We can't let him get away with it again!" intoned the Judge.

"Yeah," agreed the Sheriff, "Miss Patricia has found the manual for it."

"But how will we find out where he's got to? The shum stampede has covered all the tracks left by that dang Mare!"

The three men sat silently drinking, pondering their seemingly hapless situation.

"We could form a posse!" cried the deputy. "Swear in a bunch of townsfolk, find Alex, lynch the varmint, and bring the iPad back to town."

"But how are we gonna find Alex now?" objected the Judge. "We'll need a tracker to lead our posse."

The gray doggie raised his head at these words, and darted out of the saloon into the night. No one noticed he was gone, except for a few hungry fleas who promptly jumped onto the deputy.

Meanwhile, by the empty piano, the cat-house ladies were assembling to sing a few show tune numbers, and had noticed the large absence of the gibbon. They stood there, shifting from stilletto-heeled foot to foot, waiting for the music to begin. The crowd was growing restless, angrily calling for some entertainment.

Things were getting ugly in the Llounge Saloon....

The gray doggie ran back into the saloon ... followed by a slouched bearded dusty man, who ambled up to the bar and said: "Heard you're looking for a tracker. Well, I'm your man. Name is Vintage Seasonings. I can find a flea blindfolded in a room full of wolves. I can find a flea even if he isn't wearing a blindfold. I'll track down your iPad."

"Well stranger," said Doc as he poured the whiskey, "I don't know about that. The fugitive has quite a start on you, there's been a stampede, and we've been seeing a lot of fireworks over at the Oz-Injun reservation. Things look might dangerous out there."

Seasonings just laughed in a hopeless, capable sort of way, and said "I like a challenge."

He turned to face the now silent room and shouted "Who's with me? Who wants to catch a thief? Who will ride with me into the desert?"

A hush blanketed the bar .....

THE CHASE SCENE BEGINS

Reader warning: Adult themes and images! Read in privacy! Have a cold shower ready!

Lawyer Tom stepped forward to pontificate on the legality of deputizing ordinary citizens and the horrors of vigilante justice. But before he could open his mouth, the hush was shattered by the united shrieking reply from the cat-house ladies: "We'll ride with you Seasonings!"

Ripping off their lace and gauzy garments, the lovely ladies revealed their undergarments: leather bustiers studded with knives, chains, bandoleers, and other implements of painful occupation. Spurs replaced stilettos! The ladies of dubious reputation -- Kindlish Kitten, Neko-Camisole, Verencattish, Deb (bad, good, and otherwise), and Zelda the faded French rose-- all rose to the challenge of rescuing their beloved Alex (and incidentally the iPad) - their hearts beating true and lustily for adventure.

"Dang," muttered Doc, "I thought those things under their dresses were for our weird customers. Who would have thought they actually worked?"

"Ummmm, ladies," continued Doc, "I don't want to put a damper on your new-found ardor, but if you ride out tonight with Seasonings here, won't you be missing your appointments with your Sunday night regulars?"

The women turned with the ominous sound of creaking leather and withered Doc with their combined burning gazes. "We're going to ride a real man, errrr, ride WITH a real man, tonight!" they proclaimed to the packed saloon.

Seasonings paled visibly beneath his scruffy beard at these words, and began to back towards the door. Lawyer Tom rushed forward to explicate the legality of Seasoning's riding out un-chaperoned with five single ladies. The rest of the men could only dream of the the experience of riding out alone with five single ladies!

The ladies rushed through the door, carrying Seasonings with them to the stable, where they mounted up (on the horses - dang your perverted mind gentle reader!) and headed out of town! As they passed the belfry, the door was flung open, spilling a lurid green glow along with recluse and his kitten into the street. KK slowed her steed down as recluse and furry friend sprang onto the saddle behind her!

"Don't think you could ever leave ME behind" breathed recluse into KK's hair. "I'm not raising this kitten by myself!"

Unobserved by the galloping band, Lawyer Tom followed more sedately behind them, mounted on his trusty burro who always wore a straw sombrero and answered to the name moejose. The burro traveled slowly, since Tom had loaded up the saddlebags with his law books. He was ready to defend any miscreant or punish any wrong-doer he encountered! No wrong would go un-righted. No injury would go uncompensated!

**********

Meanwhile, back at the Llounge saloon, the remaining men sat despondently, furtively eying one another and quietly throwing back shot after shot of rot-gut.

Doc finally broke the silence "Walll, do you think they'll remember to bring the gibbon back too?"

As every eye in the house turned to glare at him, he defended his remark "I know you boys will get mighty lonely tonight, but a little music would have helped you relax. Always works for me!"

When he caught sight of Deputy bob swinging the lynch rope in a deeply meditative manner, Doc abruptly shut up.

The profound silence was finally broken by Judge Nate, who cleared his throat, spat in the general direction of the spittoon and missed, and then hauled himself to his feet. "Boys, we've got no choice. We've lost everything -- our iPad, our ladies, our holiday lynching, ... we even lost the dang gibbon!" He paused here to let his words sink in. In an even lower, slower voice, he continued "Worst of all, we done lost our self-respect. There's no honor left in MR-Rock any more. We let it flounce out of the door and ride off into the sunset. We can't look ourselves in the eye as men anymore."

After this long speech, the Judge sank back into his chair and downed his glass in a single swallow. It was so quiet in that bar you could here the mice burp in the crawlspace.

THE CHASE SCENE BEGINS

[WAIT A MINUTE -- DIDN'T WE JUST DO THAT?]

ANOTHER CHASE SCENE BEGINS

ALONG WITH A POIGNANT ROMANTIC INTERLUDE!

[Keep hankies ready!]

Into this dark, dispirited, gloomy atmosphere of despair and despondence, the tinkling sound of piano keys echoed forlornly. A lone spotlight gently showcased dreams girl on the empty player piano bench, slowly trailing her limp hands across the yellowed ivories. This wrenching note of pathos had a surprisingly bracing effect upon the unmanned clientele left in the Llounge Saloon. Judge Nate looked at Sheriff HarryT who looked over, errr, down at BOb, who looked for the gray doggie. As one man, they rose to their feet (paws) and headed for the door.

"Hold the fort Doc," boomed the Judge, "we're going after Alex and the town's iPad .... and our pride! Leave a candle burning in the window for us! If we live through this no-doubt hideous ordeal, we'll be back. And we'll be might thirsty too!"

"C'mon doggie! Lead the way! I hear tell those Oz-Indians have donuts on their reservation! Chocolate covered and cream filled donuts. That's where we'll most likely find our fugitive!"

This doughty band of suddenly enlivened, but heavily drunk, men swung into, out of, over, and finally back onto their saddles. The posse trotted out into the waning night, following the lonely bark of a hungry dog on the scent of donuts!

**********

Meanwhile, back at the saloon, Doc began piling the chairs, at least the ones not yet broken by all the brawling, onto the tables, and running a broom over the filthy floor. He glanced up in surprise as dreams girl began another lonely trill on the piano.

"Hey gal, why didn't you ride out with your Amazonian girl friends?"

"Well," breathed the lovely damsel, "after that greenish guy tried to get ziggy with me that night, I cut up my leather bustier and used it to make the macrame plant hangers for the bar."

"Oh yeah," answered Doc, gazing at a nearby hanger sporting a nipple ring, "now I remember. Them hangers are shure purty! And you can open beer bottles on some of them!"

"Sure is quiet here, now that everyone's either gone home or done ridden out after that varmint Alex. How bout's a little song darling?"

"Oh Doc, there's no music! I can't play this thing, and the ape's gone too!"

"Wait a sec, doll, Lawyer Tom left his ukulele behind to make room for all those law books. How's about I plink out a tune while you sing?" Doc sat next to dreams girl on the piano bench, and she gently allowed her head to rest on his manly shoulder, and began to softly sing 'night and day, you are the one...."

The moonlight softly filtered through the filthy windows onto this pair, who were lighting up the saloon with a glow of their own. The plinking and singing gradually fell in volume as their faces turned to one another and the violins began to play........

Gentle reader - let's give the lovebirds some well-earned privacy as their new-found infatuation grows to fruition! [What's Out in Your Garden Now ...]

[And no, I don't know who's playing the violin - probably Miss Florence playing her stereo loud while knocking back a few bottles of Beaujolais while staring at her portrait of Alex's tush!]

**********

Our camera draws back slowly from the glowing Llounge Saloon into the gradually lightening sky of dawn, and we, as omniscient readers, can see the entire desert and our players:

1. The Cross-the-Road Chicken Ranch trying to recover from the loss of Alex, the iPad, and their cook beppe. What is Mare doing now in the stables? Where has GeoffC gone? How many new posts has Joyous_Cowpat sent to the Oz-Injuns?

2. The Oz-Injun camp where Alex struggles to defend his purity from the determined onslaughts of SS, and KC tries to unlock the iPad's secrets. And beppe is put to work cooking something that's NOT chicken! And Mountsymags and the ape are muttering in the Spirit Lodge!

3. Seasoning's posse is thundering and creaking (damn that leather in sunlight) across the desert, following all those hoofmarks conveniently left by Mare. Will the reclusive one maintain his precarious hold on KK's anatomy? Will KK boot him off her horse, keeping the kitten of course. Will Seasoning feel safe enough to camp with these 5 vixens - without benefit of chaperonage?

4. Judge Nate's posse trickling into the desert, trying to keep the gray doggie in view in the hellish landscape of sand, sand, and more sand. Oh, and sun too!

5. And ... look! On the horizon! That new cloud of dust! Listen! Hear the clanking and clattering, and the occasional electronic buzz? Could it be? Yes! Dave's Robotic Rangers have received the SOS from Joyous_Cowpat's telegraph, finally found the message buried in numerous pictures of dubious taste, and are riding to the rescue!

THE PLOT SOLIDIFIES !!

sort of

Dawn. The white-hot sun crawled over the dusty horizon and began to bake the bleak dreary landscape. Tempers were hotting up in Oz-Land. Things were getting plumb ugly in the Oz-Injun camp. Let's drop in!

Queen KC had angrily summoned SS into her royal presence and demanded: "Why in Hades didn't you bring any chickens back with you? That's why we sent you! To get food for our barbie this weekend! What's wrong with you?"

"But your royal rudeness -- we brought back the iPad, ..., and .... errr.... Alex! You can order take-out using the iPad ... can't you?" quavered an unusually subdued SS.

"We could order take-out if we could unlock this blamed thing! Haven't you been able to extract the password from the prisoner yet?"

"Errr .... not yet, exactly. We're still getting acquainted ... and I'm trying to win his trust, you see..... and he won't stop screaming every time he sees my blue and pink jammies with kitties on them. Makes it a bit hard to question him."

"And he keeps crawling into the corner of my teepee (hard to do but he's a furringer) clutching what he tells me are 'family jewels' - funny place to keep your valuables" "Besides, we did bring beppe le cookque back with us."

"Silence" roared QueenKC. "That precious cook can only cook chicken! Not shrimp! Not beef! ONLY CHICKEN! Which we currently don't have any of ... thanks to you! And your farking blue jammies!

The Bird Woman tells me she found this beppe fondling her scout birds, whispering herbal sweet nothings into their ear tufts. She thinks he's going to cook her avian reconnaissance squad! Then where will we be, eh?"

SS slunk back to her teepee and found Alex trying to escape by digging under one wall. He wasn't making much progress using her eyelash curler.

SS grabbed Alex and fixed him with her steady, steely, hypnotic stare and hissed "What is the farking password to unlock the iPad? If you don't tell me, Queen KC is going to give the iPad to Montsymags and his ape, and have them cast spells to open it. And Montsymags uses a crowbar in his spells!"

Alex, by now driven mad by fear and loathing of kitty jammies, could only continue his inane and insane whimper "It's mine. You can't make me give it up! I'm not going to give it to anyone ... Ever!"

Things are beginning to look really bad for Alex, aren't they?

Just as SS raised her hand to smack some sense into Alex, errr... slap him out of his hysteria, Lene-loo-hoo's bird scouts flew back into camp, accompanied by screams of "Take Cover" and loud wet splats as they unloaded their information and their intestines!

Lene-loo-hoo called for nomeskittyque to help read the message deposited by the avian scouts in the dust. Both women bent over the cloacal dots and dashes splatted over the dusty corral. NomesKQ rapidly began transcribing the tale told by these fecal founts of knowledge.

"Quick -- alert the palace -- the Robotic Rangers are riding this way!"

"Let's see, can you read that lop-sided splat there NomesKQ?"

"This troupe is being led by DrillSergeantVick and his trusty aide-de-camp OnMyKnees the 3rd! Oh No! They're bringing Oddman the terrible and his bionic leg! And LetsChaseFeathers is sharing a pony with LadyBlueEyes - her glance is the snarkiest thing west of the Mississippi! And that neilmarry fellow - has to ride sidesaddle because he wears that kilt thingy to look intellectual!"

"Oh, oh - look at this splat - SparrowHawk is flying scout for them! Better alert our flying boys! There's bound to be trouble in the skies!"

"Wait a minute, look over here. What's this bubbly one say?"

"Better alert Montsymags & his furry little ape buddy! That's the spoor for the Blue Djinn of Willoughby! He's armed AND artistic!"

"There's probably even more riding with them - but the birds ran out of poop!"

SOUND THE ALARMS! PREPARE FOR BATTLE! WE'VE GOT TROUBLE COMING OUR WAY!

THE WAGES OF SIN

The Oz-Injun camp began to mobilize for the coming battle. Weapons were found and polished. Horses were groomed and fitted with battle saddles. Colorful, attractive clothing was chosen to be photographed in! The Oz-Indians were stylish as well as strategical!

Queen Katti'sCat rode out to review the preparations, along with MOTT. "Don't worry or hurry," she called out, "there's plenty of time to put the shrimp on the barbee! And maybe Alex too if he doesn't cough up the password for the iPad!" Then she glared at SS and continued "But I'm afraid there won't be any BBQ chicken tonight!"

"The rangers will ride first to the Chicken Ranch, where THEY will have chicken BBQ!" SS continued to slither away from the Queen's withering glare. You see, Queen KC just loved a nice drumstick smothered in spicy BBQ sauce. But it was not to be!

**********

Meanwhile, back at the Chicken Ranch, look-outs posted on the roof began to shout and excitedly point towards the desert! "Look! There! Someone's coming!"

KennyC(hicken) ran out and shaded his eyes from the rising sun's deadly rays. "Shucks, that's not the rangers. It's only a single horseman. Wonder who's out by hisself in the middle of nowhere."

As the horseman approached, they began to hear a high shout bordering on the beginnings of hysterical screaming.

"Look," cried IAm(notAChicken) "It's that prospector fellow, Seasonings, riding hell-bent to leather as if the devil's on his trail!"

Seasonings rode his lathered knackered horse into the Chicken Ranch's corral and fell off onto the ground, shaking as if with ague!

"Worse than a devil on my trail" he wheezed, "five she-devils and a demon himself!"

The ranch hands began to back away, holding their noses, and saying "Sheesh, what's that god-awful smell. You smell like you've been wrassling with a polecat! And lost!"

"Please let me wash off," cried Seasonings, "I'm beginning to attract coyotes now!"

"What happened to you, handsome stranger?" simpered the two daughters, strangely attracted by Seasonings musky aroma.

"Well, it happened like this. I was carried out of MR-Rock by a band of leather-wearing vigilantes of the female persuasion. And some green-glowing guy carrying a kitten! It was like having one of your worst nightmares with your eyes open!"

"We made camp to rest the horses, and all five of those bi....s, errr, ladies skinned off their leathers and began to oil them up with mink oil. Didn't seem to bother them! But I thought my sinuses would explode. The green guy just kept trying to lick it off the leather, until KK smacked him with a whip. He liked that!"

"Then they started to look at me, kind of how an owl eyes up a mouse. Licking their lips and winking at me. I snuck out to relieve myself, grabbed my horse, and have been galloping through the dark ever since. The last thing I heard was the green guy calling 'Here kitty kindlish kitten' - I'm not sure if he was calling the woman or her cat."

"Can I please have a shower?"

"And, by the way, is Alex here?"

A profound hush fell over the ranch, as Pshellyrose and Psweetpea vied to tell him the tale of the Oz-Injun raid and the loss of Alex and his iPad.

"Dang," muttered Seasonings, "foiled again."

"Oh no" cried IAm(NotAChicken) "they took our cook too so we can't use the foil to cook our chickens! We had to order pizza, but it hasn't been delivered yet! We thought you might be the delivery boy!"

**********

Far away in the desert, a lone man on a burro rode slowly into a slumbering camp reeking of angry civet cat. A green moon seemed to glow in the trees, and the creaking of leather bustiers filled the dawn light. Suddenly a voice demanded "Halt! Who goes there?"

Lawyer Tom doffed his hat and replied "It's me ... Lawyer Tom riding to defend the innocent, right the wrongs, and collect my fees. This little fellow is my burro moejose."

"Say, aren't you the feline posse that rode out from town with Vintage Seasonings? Where is he? And why is the moon green?"

Zelda strode forward and shrilled, her overpowering emotions making her French accent almost sound real: "Zee dirty scoundrel ran away! Abandoned us poor defenseless vomen volk in the middle of the nasty desert. Do we haff a case against heeem?"

"Hmmm," pondered Tom as he pulled out a weighty tome from his saddlebags, "Let's see: abandonment, breach of promise, reckless endangerment ... why the list of charges is almost endless. Ladies .... we have a winner." "Errm, about that green moon?"

"Oh, that's just recluse, he gets real antsy unless he's in his belfry, and hoisting him up into that tree was the closest we could get to a belfry out here." replied Kindlish. "And yes, that's his kitten with him."

INTERMISSION

TO CATCH UP ON THE STORY LINES

[Oh - you can grab a snack too]

[Let's all go out to the lobby!]

The merciless hot sun beat down on the unforgiving desert landscape. Creatures large and small scurried for any shade, any cover from the withering rays. Most did not find any relief from the baking temperatures, and curled in whimpering softly, dreaming of night fall and blessed cool darkness.

Sheriff HarryT's party was in trouble. Bad trouble. They had been following the gray doggie into the now trackless desert. But the bad doggie had mistaken prairie dogs for a skwirrels and led the party deep into a fiery oven of death, as he chased after the gamboling rodents deeper and deeper into the limitless sands of death. Now HarryT, bob, and the Judge lay sprawled on the sands, shaded only the the carcasses of their horses, close to death themselves. The doggie's garish hat literally glowed under the sun, as his gasping pants rasped from his dust-dry throat. Chortling prairie dogs circled the hapless party, already arguing over the disposition of the shiny bits of metal worn by the silly human intruders. Vultures drifted down from their lofty thermals to land next to the group, serviettes in place for the upcoming feast. The alpha-vulture had dibs on the doggie's hat -- to use as an umbrella on his nest. Judge Nate became delirious and babbled "This is plumb worse than the time I fell asleep in the tanning bed!" No one answered.

What will become of our brave, if foolhardy, band of lawmen?

**********

Meanwhile, over at the camp of the vivacious vixens of vigilantism, Lawyer Tom was taking individual depositions from each lady for the upcoming class action lawsuit against Seasonings. Fortunately, Tom had always suffered keenly from hay fever, so his stuffed-up sinuses were impervious to the pervading aroma of mink oil, which intensified greatly as the sun warmed the buttery soft leather.

Recluse clung in his tree with his kitten, glowing a soft, warm green as his furry friend purred contentedly. But the aromatic waftings from the ladies' garb was attracting uninvited guests. Recluse glanced out to see packs of coyotes congregating around the camp, jaws wide open slavering drool that evaporated as soon as it touched the burning sand. He instinctively reached for his bell rope to sound the alarm, but realized he wasn't in his belfry anymore! He raced up and down the tree trying to puzzle out how to warn the camp. Aha! Of course! He gently lifted the kitten, which was wearing a tiny bell on his pink collar, and began to gently rock the kitten from side to side, producing a cute tinkly sound. It was the best he could do! Would it be enough to warn the camp of their impending status as a smorgasbord luncheon for all the coyote clans lurking around MR-Rock?

What will become of our brave, if aromatic, band of vigilantes?

THE CAVALRY ARRIVES -- SORT OF

Meanwhile, back at the Cross-the-Road Chicken Ranch, things were looking might grim .... for Davimeet-ya that is. Ever since the folks had discovered that the Oz-Injuns had kidnapped beppe le cooque, everyone had been demanding she kill and cook up some chickens. But being a soft-hearted soul, Davimeet-ya had made friends with all the little feather folk, and had even named them. She couldn't even think of killing one, let alone frying it up for dinner! So she had barricaded herself in the largest of the chicken houses, vowing to fight to the death to defend her feathered charges.

KennyC(hicken)'s family and crew were getting mighty hungry. All the snacks were gone. The stores of hidden chocolate set aside by IAm(NotAChicken) were found and gone in minutes. She was weeping bitterly, sifting the empty, well-licked, wrappers over and over, desperately searching for a crumb of semi-sweet wonderfulness. Alas, there was none to be found.

Despair had settled like a wet, dingy, forlorn blanket over the ranch.

Only the chickens were happy and well-fed.

Then GeoffC(hicken) ran shouting from the gate "Look! On the horizon! A large cloud of dust! Coming this way!"

"Now what" grumbled KennyC as he ambled slowly to the gate, shading his eyes from the still-blinding sun. The entire household poured out into the yard to see what new disaster was charging their way.

"Is it the Oz-Injuns again" shrieked Pshellyrose? "Is it Alex" shrieked Psweetpea?

"Quiet down right now" snapped Rebar-toting-Mom, the strictest governess in three counties. "You still have to finish your French grammar lesson before you're allowed out for recess!" In spite of wearing gowns slathered with bright yellow sunflowers, Rebar-t-Mom was tough, and kept those two gals under control. She began dragging the two reluctant students back to the school room just as the on-coming horses thundered into the yard!

What a sight for sore eye! For any eyes really, if truth be told.

Perched on the lead horse was DrillSergeantVick, a short fellow with a big round head. His arms tended to fall off unexpectedly, but fortunately he had OnMyKnees the 3rd to grab them back up and reattach them - a true first-aide-de-camp. The rest of the pack were even more .... let's say interesting ... to the eye. A more rag-tag, sorry band of losers it was hard to imagine. Let's imagine then ....

LetsChaseFeathers had caught wind of the chicken barn, making the propeller on his beanie spin fast enough to lift him off his horse! Oddman-the-terrible was having trouble getting his bionic leg out of the stirrup. LadyBlueEye was glaring at KennyC so hard he felt his hair begin to singe. Neilmarry was decorously tucking his kilt back down over his knees. SparrowHawk and Javed the Blue Djinn were floating over their troup giving the chicken barn a beady-eyed inspection. Funnily enough, all the horses had these big, square saddle bags.

Silence fell on the two groups, staring open-mouthed at each other.

Then OnMyKnees the 3rd stepped forward, dropped to his knees, reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a chit of paper and asked:

"This the party that ordered 250 pullet-supreme pizzas ...... and one diet Coke?"

Another hush fell on the crowd, soon broken by the two girls screaming "The pizza man's here! Lots of them! One for each of us and some left over! Pizzas, we mean, not men! Well, maybe men too!"

KennyC slowly asked "Did you say ONE diet Coke?"

OMK3 consulted his chit again and said "Yup. That's the order. One."

"That's right" shouted a voice from inside the ranch house. Joyous_Cowpat ran out and grabbed the Coke, saying "You know I've been trying to lose some weight -- so I ordered a diet Coke." He grabbed one of the pizzas and ran back into the house shouting "Can't hang around here. I'm going to pass my old posting record in minutes."

The rest of the ranch hands began to edge forward and pull pizzas out of the thermally insulated saddle bags.

OMK3 cleared his throat and said "You'll be paying in cash of course?"

IAm spoke up "Surely you'll accept a check?"

LadyBlueEye turned the full glare of the god-awfullest strangest eye anyone had ever seen onto IAm, and she visibly shrank even shorter under the relentless rain of snarky rays!

KennyC stepped up to defend his little woman. "GeoffC -- you're the overseer of this ranch. You'll see to this, right?"

KennyC swiveled back to the rag-tag pack and said "Are you the cavalry or the pizza delivery?"

Another hush fell. Eyes swiveled back and forth amongst the group, especially OMK3's eyes - which seemed able to look in different directions simultaneously. Watching them made you queasy.

DSVDave cleared his throat and answered "Yes and yes."

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

[TITLE SHAMELESSLY STOLEN FROM VINTAGE SEASON]

[THE REAL VINTAGE SEASON, NOT HIS ALTER EGO IN THE DESERT]

dsvdave shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, lifted his hat and tried to wipe the sweat from his brow. His right arm fell off into the dust. OMK 3rd promptly recovered the errant appendage and deftly reattached it to his lop-sided leader.

dsvdave cleared his throat, making OMK 3rd jump, and tried to explain. "Well, you see, it was like this, more or less, kind of .... you know - a career move."

This conversational sally was met with blank stares all round. Another arm fell off and was reattached in the ensuing silence.

He continued, "We are real Texas Rangers. Really. But we were SO good we ran out of bad guys to chase and had to take a side job to make ends meet."

"More or less."

The sniggering that followed was painful to hear, especially since most of the people laughing were dsvdave's own troop. LadyBlueEye nearly fell off her horse, she was shrieking with mirth! The Chicken Ranch folk just looked mildly puzzled at this display. dsvdave glared at his troops, who gradually choked off their guffaws.

"Listen folks," explained OddMan-the-terrible, swinging his metallic leg like a pendulum, "We were all casualties, physical and mental, that ran out of disability benefits after our last campaign against the Oz-Indians. We were all sidelined as the Rangers' 'Special Squad' and given cross-walk duty. Only there weren't any cross-walks in this county."

"We got the picture then," continued Neilmarry, tugging his kilt primly over his knees, "and decided we could do better as an independent contract delivery service, since we knew the byways of the desert so well."

"So then," repeated KennyC(hicken) "you're the pizza delivery service, not the rangers we called to rescue the iPad?" His two daughters fiercely nudged him in the ribs and whispered in both ears. "Oh yeah, and rescue Alex too?"

The rangers traded glances and went into a huddle to consider the offer. While the confab went on, the chickens and Davimeet-ya began shrieking inside the barricaded chicken barn! Unnoticed by all, LetsChaseFeathers and SparrowHawk had wafted over to the barn and were trying to squeeze through a window left open for ventilation. dsvdave ordered OMK 3rd to order the erring comrades to cease and desist in their high-flying hi-jinks and return to the squad.

After some semblance of order was restored, the robotic rangers decided to sleep on the offer before deciding if they were ready to ride again against their arch-nemesis Oz-Indians. OMK 3rd was heard to mutter "Yeah, we'll get that dang-blamed iPad all right. But rescuing Alex will cost extra! Remember how mean that SS broad was? She tore both your arms off last time dsvdave!" The rangers crawled into their bedrolls with this graphic image haunting their dreams.

The Chicken Ranch folk also began to drift towards bed as well, Rebar-toting-Mom making sure her little darlings made it into their own beds! No hanky-panky was ever allowed to occur on her watch!

But there was one forlorn figure left awake on the ranch. GeoffC(hicken) had been left with the bill for the pizzas (and one diet Coke), and there was no money left in the safe. He sat into the night, staring at his beloved piggy-bank, cradling a hammer in his hands, tears streaming down his face. They had been together a long time, shared so many memories of good times and bad. But now it was time to end the relationship. "Breaking up is hard to do." Literally.

**********

Meanwhile, back at the Oz-Indian camp, things were quieting down for the night. The purloined purveyor of gastric delights, beppe le cookque, had served a magnificent banquet of spam tetrazzini liberally laced with ZCD's he had found in a jar hidden in the back of the pantry, labeled "For Emergency Use Only! Open At Your Own Risk!" As he shook them into the sauce, he muttered "This situation certainly seems to qualify as an emergency to me!"

One by one, the Ozians sank to the floor in slow motion, like little Gummi-Indians left out in a hot sun. Snoring and muttering, with occasional raucous ABBA medleys, soon filled the quiescent camp.

Beppe loaded a familiar-shaped tray with a bowl of non-ZCD tetrazzini and went to the prisoner's teepee.

[Gentle reader -- remember Alex? The cause of this entire mess? The reason so many MR-Rock residents are in danger? The heartless kidnapper of the defenseless iPad? The reason you've spent so many joyous hours perusing this saga? Right! That Alex!]

Alex was still huddled in the corner of the tee-pee clad in the despised kitty jim-jams, wondering aloud how things had gotten so bad so quickly. His fingers were unconsciously and continuously tapping on a non-existent surface, as he muttered paeans to St. Jobs and his miraculous tablet. He knew that he had reached the end of the line, the end of his rope, the end of everything he cherished. Did anyone outside the Injun camp wonder, or even care, where he was? If he was alive?

His head rose fractionally as he heard a voice lustily singing "La donna è mobile" approaching his tent. Beppe le cookque parted the flaps and entered, carrying a bowl of food on a shiny tray. Winking broadly, he whisked the napkin from the bowl, revealing ....... Alex's heart stopped, rose in his throat, and tried to strangle him! It was his long-lost beloved iPad! Beppe had removed it from the Queen's tent and smuggled it back to Alex! Life was complete again! Even the hideous kitty jim-jams no longer rankled. Beppe discreetly withdrew, leaving Alex in private for his tearful reunion.

Alex fell to the floor, convulsively clutching the iPad to his heart. As his ear was pressed to the dirt, he heard hoofbeats stealthily approaching his tent. "Psst, Alex, it's me -- earth-colored Mare. I snuck away from the Chicken Ranch and came to rescue you. You do still have the iPad, don't you?"

Alex could scarce believe his ears! "Yes, yes, yes! I have the iPad! Get me out of here please! Anywhere is better than here!"

"Stand back," ordered Mare, and deftly slice open the tee-pee with her dainty hoof. Alex vaulted aboard, only stopping to show the iPad to Mare, before she took off into the night, leaving hoofmarks that gently glowed in the moonlight.

Oh, Gentle Reader, is the cycle starting all over again? The flight and pursuit of the iPad again? The endless worry and speculation as to Alex's whereabouts? The ceaseless wonder over the ownership of the iPad?

NO!

thundered the Blue Djinn Javed of Willoughby!

[Thought I forgot him didn't you?]

This must not be!

ALL THINGS MUST BE PUT RIGHT!

The Blue Djinn floated gently above the moon-lit landscape, surveying the disparate parties in their respective plights and pondered .... How to restore the peace and happiness and joy so tragically thrown to the winds. This would take some thought ......

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!!

Night skies cover the desert. Clouds flit fitfully over the orange moon's wan face. Small animals hurry in search of a quick meal whilst trying to avoid becoming a quick meal. Javed, Djinn of Willoughby, perches on a high cloud next to the moon and contemplates the follies played out before him today. He rests a contemplative chin in his hand, lowers his eyelids, and hums softly. There are so many mistakes to correct, so many lives to restore, so much to fix before sunrise.

Shaking himself upright, he thinks "Well, better get started!"

First, he casts his all-seeing glare upon the town of MR-Rock, where a dim light still burns in the window of the Llounge Saloon. Doc and dreams girl have long since retired [No - don't ask for details! This isn't THAT kind of story!]. The Djinn reaches down and gently snuffs the light, passes his hand over the drowsy town, and whispers "Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!"

[Especially those dang-blasted shums!]

Then he raises his eyes to the nearby desert where Judge Nate's party lie on death's doorstep. Well, actually, they're lying on an impromptu picnic table thrown together by the vultures for their planned feast. He gently wafts a hand over the camp, returning the unconscious men back to their waiting beds. Just as he's about to turn his gaze away he hears a small, pathetic whimpering sound. There, shivering behind the cactus, the small gray doggie whose antics are to blame for this predicament. Mercifully, the Djinn picks up the doggie by his scruff [fastidiously avoiding the ravenous flea population] and boots him back to his usual place under the bar in the Llounge Saloon. Another whimper of thanks touches his vast heart, causing a chocolate covered donut to appear next to the doggie's head.

The Djinn's mighty head again swings over the desert, this time finding the vixens' camp. All is peaceful now in the camp. Recluse had rocked the kitten, sounding his tiny bell, so long that he lulled everyone - including the coyotes - into a deep slumber, broken only by the lusty purring of the happy kitten, and of recluse too! Another wave of the mighty hand returns the ladies of the night back to their rooms in the saloon, recluse and his kitten to the belfry, and Lawyer Tom and his burro back to his dusty law office!

In a fit of wizardly dark humor, the Djinn relocates the sleeping coyotes onto the vultures' picnic table. It's far enough away in the desert that the ensuing commotion won't disturb the dreams of the townfolk.

Pulling out his To-Do list, the Djinn moves to the Chicken Ranch. There he espys a late-night meeting of the rangers, discussing whether to ride against the Oz-Injuns. When a vote is taken, all raise their hands [Errr ... dave's arm falls off again but OMK 3rd picks it up and raises it for him] to vote for remaining at the Chicken Ranch and applying for jobs as chicken wranglers. Vintage Seasonings, after a bath and a brush, has also decided to remain on the ranch, basking in the glow of admiration from the two lovely daughters. The Djinn makes a check-mark on his list and prepares to move on.

But he hears the muted heart-broken sobbing from GeoffC(hicken)'s room. When he peeks through his window, the Djinn sees the grief-stricken overseer clutching the fragments of his beloved, now empty, piggy bank to his heart. "Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!" murmurs the Djinn, and GeoffC(hicken) slides down onto his pillow. The mighty Djinn reaches down with one puissant digit and taps the fragments, which begin to glow and rejoin into the charming pink piggy so beloved by the canny Scotsman! Before he leaves, the Djinn reaches into the pocket in his robe, pulls out a silver coin, and drops it into the now-healed piggy bank. A small smile appears on the dozing foreman's face, as his hand slides over the slot in piggy's back.

Another tick on the list. Now over to the Oz-Injun camp, where beppe le cookque's judicious seasoning of the spam tetrazzini with ZCD's had done the Djinn's work for him. All are profoundly asleep and will remember nothing of the previous day when they awaken. SS will wonder what happened to her spare pair of kitty jim-jams, but will never see them again.

Oh yes, wait a minute, the Djinn approaches the royal teepee where Queen KattisCat sleeps clasped in the arms of her MOTT. The Djinn lays a healing palm upon her head and breathes ever so softly "Heal! Heal! Heal!" "All will be well in time!"

Then he quietly steals from the tent, remembering to scoop up the recumbent beppe and return him to the Chicken Ranch. He'll be sorely needed to feed all the new ranch hands tomorrow. The chickens begin to tremble in their nests, sensing his return to the kitchen.

Another tick on the list. Almost done. Now the Djinn's head swing to face the deepest, darkest desert, where a lone rider on a rapidly tiring Mare is leaving hoofmarks in the glowing sands.

"Alex, Alex, you'll have to find your own way home, son." whispers the Djinn, and reseats himelf to watch the end of the drama play out on the desert stage.

**********

Mare carried Alex and his burden deep, deep into the darkling desert. Exhausted from his recent tussles with SS, Alex slumped lower and lower in the saddle, held on only by his convulsive clasp of Mare's silky mane. Soon he began to snore softly, as Mare's gentle gait rocked him to sleep. Mare knew they must find water and rest soon. But where were they?

Up ahead, Mare's sharp eyes picked out a small wavering yellow light. Strengthened by her discovery, Mare left hoofmarks rapidly as she turned toward the light. Alex snapped fully awake instantly the minute he felt Mare slow to a stop. Painfully opening his bleary, blood-shot eyes Alex stared at the strangest, quaintest wagon he had ever seen. It was a small wooden wagon brightly painted in many colors and festooned with innumerable shiny geegaws, trinkets, oddities, and treasures. It was pulled by one tiny horse, whose colors kept shifting in the wavering light of the camp fire.

Squinting at the side of the wagon, Alex read the brightly blazoned letters that spelled out filip le fortunate. Lowering his eyes to the campfire, Alex then descried the wagon's owner, presumably filip, sitting next to the fire sipping a last cup of coffee. filip's was an ageless face, seamed and weathered by a lifetime spent traversing the desert. Nothing could or would ever surprise him now, he had witnessed all life offers in his desert sojourn.

“Bonjour, mon ami” dit-il, avant de répéter ses vœux de bienvenue à Mare. « Venez plus près, mes amis, et reposez vous un moment. Partagez mon feu, ma nourriture et mon eau. Il n’y a pas d’étrangers dans le désert d’MR. »

Alex se laissa glisser de Mare, épuisé, qui s’éloigna pour rejoindre à son auge le petit cheval de filip. Alex s’écrasa près du feu et accepta le verre d’eau et le bol de soupe offerts. filip observait son invité d’un regard dissimulé par ses sourcils broussailleux, sans le fixer directement mais en buvant en apparence tout les détails du passé d’Alex dans les traînées de poussière et de larmes qui striaient son visage. Un silence amical s'étendit sur le petit camp, et Alex recouvrit un peu de ses forces.

« Je ne sais comment vous remercier, je ne sais pas même qui vous êtes, » bégaya Alex. « Je m’appelle Alex et… » Souffrant, il dut prendre une pause, avala bruyamment, puis il souffla « Avant, j’avais une maison à MR-Rock »

« Mais je me suis enfui. Et je ne pourrai jamais retourner à la maison. »

Il enfoui son visage dans ses mains et pleura amèrement, regrettant ses actions passées et souhaitant désespérément qu’il pourrait ouvrir les yeux et se retrouver dans son ancienne chambre, parmi ses amis.

filip regarda les soubresauts agitant les épaules d’Alex jusqu’à se qu’ils se calment, puis lui offrit un mouchoir brodé pour qu’il se nettoie le visage.

« Mon ami, j’ai voyagé dans tout les coins de cette terre, j’ai été témoin de bien des tragédies et de triomphes, j’ai collectionné les espoirs, les rêves et les cauchemars d’une myriade d’âmes afin de les préserver. Vous n’êtes pas seul. Vous pouvez retourner chez vous, à vos amis. Vous savez ce que vous devez faire. Vous avez toujours su ce que vous deviez faire pour y retourner. »

« Reposez-vous près du feu, ami, et vous trouverez le chemin vers la maison. »

filip se retira dans sa charrette et laissa Alex qui fixait les flammes vacillant doucement. Il ouvrit sa sacoche et en retira le iPad, la source de tout ses déboires. Promenant ses doigts, sans y penser, sur sa surface séductrice, Alex tourna à nouveau ses regards vers le feu. Fasciné, Alex vit le visage du Djinn apparaître dans les flammes, oscillant mais autoritaire alors qu’il rendait à Alex son regard. Les yeux du Djinn glissèrent sur le iPad, puis revinrent à ceux d’Alex - puis il opina de la tête avant de disparaître à nouveau dans les flammes.

Alex se leva et s’approcha de la charrette. « Allez, prenez-le, c’est à vous. Ça vous appartient à vous, pas à moi. Ajoutez-le à votre collection afin que je redevienne libre. »

filip accepta de bon cœur le iPad, et remercia Alex pour sa sagesse et sa générosité. En plaçant l’appareil dans sa charrette, filip se retourna vers Alex et dit « Allons à la maison, maintenant. »

[For those of you fearing you were just transported into an alternate dimension, or that you definitely need a new prescription for your glasses, press the handy button below and read on!]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Bonjour, mon ami" he called out, then repeated his welcome to Mare. "Come closer friends and rest awhile. Share my fire, my food, and my water. There are no strangers in the MR-desert."

Alex slid off the exhausted Mare, who wandered away to join filip's tiny horse at the feeding trough. Alex collapsed by the fire, accepting the proffered cup of water and plate of soup. filip observed his guest from under his bushy eyebrows, never staring directly but seemingly drinking all the details of Alex's past from the streaks of dirt and tears that darkened his face. A companionable silence blanketed the tiny camp, as Alex regained some strength.

"I don't know how to thank you, I don't even know who you are," stammered Alex. "My name is Alex and ......" he painfully paused here and swallowed hard and whispered "I used to have a home in MR-Rock."

"But I ran away. And I can't ever go back home again."

He buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly, regretting his past acts and desperately wishing he could open his eyes and find himself back in his old room amongst his friends.

filip watched Alex's shaking shoulders until they slowed, and handed Alex an embroidered handkerchief to clean his face.

"My friend, I have traveled to all ends of this earth, I have witnessed many tragedies and triumphs, I have collected the hopes, dreams, and nightmares from a myriad of souls for safe-keeping. You are not alone. You can return to your home and friends. You know what you must do. You've always known what you must do to go home again."

"Rest here by the fire my friend and you will find your way home."

filip retired into his wagon, leaving Alex gazing into the softly flickering flames. He opened his saddlebag and pulled out the iPad, the source and cause of all his travails. Absently running his fingers over its seductive surface, Alex turned his gaze back into the fire. Fascinated, Alex stared as the Djinn's face appeared in the flames, wavering but commanding as he returned Alex's startled gaze. The Djinn's eyes slid to the iPad and then back to Alex's eyes -- and he nodded but once before fading back into the campfire flames.

Alex rose from the fire and approached the wagon. "Here, take it, it's yours. It belongs to you, not me. Add it to your collection so I can be free again."

filip accepted the iPad joyously, and thanked Alex for his wisdom and generosity. Placing it safely in his wagon, filip turned to Alex and said "Let's go home now."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hitching Mare to the wagon alongside filip's tiny horse, they flew back towards MR-Rock. On the way they passed the yet-slumbering Oz-Injun camp, wallowing in its ZCD-induced comatose stupor of bliss. Then the Chicken Ranch, where beppe le cookque's return was heralded by wreaths of fragrant smoke pouring from the kitchen, and the sound of Davimeet-ya's laments as her chicken friends were consigned to the breakfast table. Then an abandoned camp in which a tall tree still glowed a faint green. Then an abandoned picnic smeared with BBQ sauce, or was it blood?

Faster and faster the wagon rolled towards the little town on the horizon, twinkling in the dawn light like the jewel it truly was. Alex's heart bounded with excitement, and yes, trepidation. What would his welcome be like now, he wondered. Would anyone even notice he had returned, again?

As they drew closer to town they could hear joyous bells pealing from recluse's belfry, along with cheers and shouts of happiness. Pulling up in front of the Llounge Saloon, Alex peered inside and exclaimed "We're just in time for a wedding!"

And so ends the little saga of Alex, an iPad, and a community in turmoil.

[Reads like the set-up to a sequel you say?]

**********

With apologies to the Bard, may I end with:

If this contest has offended,

Think but this, no harm intended,

That you have but tarried here

While this saga did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend,

If you pardon, we will mend.

And, say I, the author Pooh,

Alex soon will set things true,

Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,

He will make amends ere long;

Else the Pooh a liar call;

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, now still your cries,

And Alex shall award the prize.

And now ...
A word from our author

A BIG thank you to everyone who read High Noon and encouraged me to continue writing the saga! It started out as one of a series of themed explanations for the delay in announcing the contest winner, and then assumed a life of its own. And refused to die!

Special thanks to:

Alex - for allowing me to poke gentle (?) fun at him - for enduring a delay not of his choosing, and for agreeing to allow the contest winner to be announced in the final episode of High Noon.

Bratzzo - who rode out of the sunset into town and produced the stunning cover art and map that will adorn the final ebook version,

speaking of which,

Dave - who is compiling the ebook to make it available to members who want to load it onto their readers,

Verencat - for her splendid translation in the final section - to honor our winner's home country,

Zelda - for her willingness to discuss my ideas for the final episode, and to assist with the translation [can we lean on her for a French version of the entire saga? once she finishes her pesky real world chores of course] [hint, hint]

And, of course, last but not least, to

filip - for being transformed into filip le fortunate! Congrats and enjoy!

and to the readers who volunteered ideas for the plot, and themselves as characters. If I did not include you in the saga, and you were too bashful to volunteer yourself, rest assured there will most certainly be future contests and writings that will need characters for the starring roles.

I read and appreciated all the daily comments that accompanied High Noon - you wrote a saga of your own!

An Inside Look
Comments from the cast

On riding off into the desert with the vivacious five

"But I don't much like horses, broads in leather or my chances..."  - recluse

On pyjamas

"You may have to defect to the Ozzians ... you can have some comfy pyjamas to wear." - SneakySnake

"I don't wear blue flannelette pyjamas with kitties on them.

Or anything else for that matter." - recluse

"my pjs are pink with white sheep on them..." - Mare of Earth

On winning the iPad

"...keep picking until my name is picked" - JSWolf

"Well I'm off to read ... and wait for the announcement that I didn't win the iPad" - Davimee

"I currently have the iPad in my hot little hands and [THUNK!]" - montsmags

"...Alex the iPad will be an anticlimax..." - GeoffC

"No kittens or iPads were harmed in the making of this saga." - phenomshel

"Who won?" - happy_terd

"Those things don't exist." - vivaldirules

"I am really happy about this.

Thank you Poobear for the story and mr for the ipad !" - filip [the fortunate]

On defending the innocent

"I will defend those precious little chickens!" - Davimee

"I'm trying to sound a warning by jingling a kitten over the noise of five women and a lawyer?" - recluse

"...everyone knows you can't trust a wolf to be a gentleman around a lady." - WT Sharpe

"I can't say I'm crazy about those charges Tom is contemplating..." - Vintage Season

"It's a very buttery soft kid leather. With magical properties, so it still repels knives..." - badgoodDeb

"Besides, no kittens were injured!" - poohbear_nc

"I do have my trusty lever action .32 Marlin saddle rifle!" - kindlekitten

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION

A hero's path...

HIGH NOON

SON OF HIGH NOON

BRIDE OF HIGH NOON

HIGH NOON THE SAGA

HIGH NOON THE DIRECTOR'S CUT

THE UNCENSORED SCRIPT

THE NEVERENDING STORY

THE DANCE REMIX

THE EPIC SAGA OF A GENERATION

THE PLOT THICKENS

MY DINNER WITH ALEX

CIRCLE THE WAGONS!!

A HERO IS BORN!

THE CHASE SCENE BEGINS

THE CHASE SCENE BEGINS

ANOTHER CHASE SCENE BEGINS

THE PLOT SOLIDIFIES !!

THE WAGES OF SIN

INTERMISSION

THE CAVALRY ARRIVES -- SORT OF

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!!

And now ... A word from our author

An Inside Look Comments from the cast