HIGH NOON
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....
(To be continued ... cats are hungry)