HIGH NOON
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?
(To Be Continued ..... )
(Will Those Dang-blasted Rangers Ever Arrive?)
(Will Lawyer Tom Finally Win His First Case .... Or Become a Road Kill Blue Plate Special?)
Stay Tuned ......