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!
To Be Continued (if necessary)