Willy’s eyes grew wide when she saw Safari Guy patting his safari vest and staring at one of the clowns. What was in his vest? A gun? A bomb? A secret Morse code device that parlayed information to the clowns? Had she watched too many James Bond movies?
Willy leaned down and whispered into Allistair’s ear, “We need to vamoose out of here. I think the Safari Guy and the clowns are in cahoots together and they’re closing in on us.”
But before Allistair could agree…
Bang!
The mirror behind the bar shattered into a million kajillion pieces.
“I don’t think that bullet was fake,” Willy said.
Everybody in the saloon dropped to the ground and hugged the floor. Willy and Allistair fell to their knees and crawled toward a fallen table.
They hunkered behind the overturned table, holding each other in their arms. Allistair began to pray under her breath. Willy held Allistair in her arms and wondered why she had never told her how much she loved her and if it was too late to do so now.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Willy listened to Allistair mumble the Lord’s Prayer and she remembered that old saying about religion and foxholes. Now she knew why it made sense. She was in the metaphoric foxhole, waiting for the final bullet to explode through her head, splattering her brain matter on the wall behind her and even though she didn’t have a religious bone in her body, she was struck by the sudden impulse to pray.
So pray she did. She vaguely remembered the words to a prayer she had heard somewhere. “Dear Lord, you can’t always gets what you want. You can’t always get what you want. You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need. Amen.”
“Why are you reciting lyrics to a Rolling Stones song?” Allistair whispered.
“It’s a song? Shit, I thought it was a prayer,” Willy said.
Bang! Bang!
People screamed and ran. Willy heard a man shout something she thought she’d never hear, “The clowns have gone insane! They’re shooting at us!”
“We’re trapped,” Willy said, peeking around the table. She saw the two clowns methodically searching the saloon, kicking aside chairs, looking behind tables. “They’re closing in on us.”
“Let’s run for it,” Allistair said. She quickly left the table and crawled for the bar. Willy duck-walked after her.
“There they are!”
Willy turned to look. A clown was pointing a gun at her. She dove behind the bar.
Bang!
A big chunk of wood flew out of the wall behind Willy and zinged past her head. Damn, that was close, she thought.
A big, strong hand grabbed Willy’s arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand with hairy knuckles clamped down over her lips and all that came out was a sound like a strangled monkey. Or rather, what she imagined a monkey being strangled would sound like. She didn’t really know what a strangled monkey sounded like, as she’d never been to Africa or wherever it was that monkeys lived. Hell, she’d never even been to a zoo. If she lived through this ordeal she’d rectify that. She’d go to a zoo. She’d go to a zoo and strangle a monkey. Just to see what it sounded like. If she lived, that is. And that was another thing. When she got scared, her brain revolted. It curled in on itself and chased its own tail. Take this moment for instance. Her brain should be guiding her out of this mess; instead it was making her think about monkeys and zoos.
Miss Kitty hissed at her, “Stop trying to bite my fingers, it’s only me.”
Willy’s eyes came unglazed and focused on Miss Kitty. Her nose was only an inch or so from Willy’s nose. Looking at Miss Kitty this close-up was extremely revealing. Willy noticed for the first time that Miss Kitty had huge pores. And stubble. As in beard stubble. She had an Adam’s apple, too. She was wearing a ton of foundation. Allistair had been right!
“Are you a man?” Willy asked.
“No,” Miss Kitty whispered harshly. “I’m trans.”
“What’s that mean exactly?” Willy asked. “Woman to man or man to woman?”
I’d love to tell you all about it,” Miss Kitty said, “But I hardly think now is an appropriate time.”
“You’re right,” Willy said. “I’m just trying to keep my mind occupied because I think I might go a little bit insane if I don’t.”
Miss Kitty then did something very surprising. She reached behind her and grabbed hold of a big barrel that was labeled “Peanuts.” She overturned the barrel, sending peanuts cascading across the wooden floor. She looked at Willy and Allistair, pointed into the barrel and said, “Get in.”
Allistair didn’t bat an eye. She obediently climbed into the barrel. It didn’t leave much room for Willy. When most of Willy was in the barrel, Miss Kitty rolled the barrel out from behind the bar. This sent Willy’s head circling round and round and round. It was hard to see much when her head went in circles, but she did make out the clowns slipping on the peanuts as they scrambled toward the bar. They went one way and Miss Kitty shoved the barrel the other.
Willy closed her eyes as they rolled out the saloon doors onto the boardwalk, bounced down the wooden steps and jolted into the dusty street. They rolled a good fifty yards down the road before coming to a stop.
Willy crawled out of the barrel. She was so dizzy she couldn’t stand upright. She reached inside the barrel for Allistair, but came up empty-handed. She tried again. Each time she reached out she grabbed nothing but air. She was so dizzy her aim was off. It was like being blindfolded, spun around and pinning the tail on the donkey. She never had understood the fun in that party game. It was stupid and made her throw up all the cake and ice cream. She was about ready to throw up when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder.
She turned. Allistair’s three heads were looking at her. “There’s three of you,” she said.
“You’re just dizzy,” Allistair said.
“Yeah,” Willy said. “You must be right. Because there’s three Safari Guys standing right behind you, too.”
“Oh, crap,” Allistair said. “Really?”
Willy nodded. “Really and truly.” It was the nodding that did it. It was the last movement her stomach could take. Willy opened her mouth and projectile vomited onto Safari Guy’s hiking boots.
“Uck! Why’d you go and do that?” Safari Guy said. “You always vomit on people who are trying to save your life?”
“Wait,” Allistair said, “You’re trying to save our lives?”
“I’m F.B.I.,” he said. “I’m here to keep an eye on you two. There’s a mole in the department and those clowns are with the mob.”
“Stupid question,” Allistair said, “But why are they dressed like clowns?”
Safari Guy shrugged. “They’re dressed like rodeo clowns. Rodeos have cowboys and horses. They probably thought they’d blend.”
“That almost makes sense,” Allistair said.
“Run!” Safari Guy suddenly yelled, shoving Allistair and Willy behind him.
The clowns burst out of the saloon doors, spotted Willy and Allistair and began firing their guns. Puffs of red dust exploded by their feet.
Willy and Allistair turned tail, picked up their skirts and ran. Safari Guy ran after them, stopping to turn and shoot his gun every so often.
Willy and Allistair turned a corner and ducked behind a storefront. Willy peeked around the building’s corner just in time to see Safari Guy take a bullet in the back.
“They shot him!” she yelled.
Safari Guy fell to his knees only a foot or two from the corner. Without thinking, Willy reached out, grabbed him by his arms, and dragged him to safety.
Safari Guy rose to his feet.
“Why aren’t you dying?” Willy asked. “You got shot!”
“Kevlar,” Safari Guy said. He poked his head around the corner of the building and fired his gun.
“Where can I get one of those vests?” Willy asked.
Safari Guy fired off more shots, sayi
ng, “You can find them at any Sharper Image. Kinda expensive, though. And shipping costs an arm and a leg.”
“What do we do now?” Allistair said.
“Well, I don’t think we have time to order our own vests,” Willy said.
“Not that! I meant how are we going to survive this shootout?” Allistair said.
“We’ve got to get out of Dodge,” Willy said.
Safari Guy fired several more times.
Allistair put her hands over her ears to deafen the noise of the gunshots. She yelled, “Yeah, but how do we get out of Dodge? In case you haven’t noticed we don’t have a car! We don’t even have a wagon. I don’t think I can outrun those clowns even if they do have big, floppy shoes!”
“Calm down,” Willy said. “I have an idea.” She stuck her two index fingers in her mouth and whistled.
The Great Escape
Antonio’s white horse galloped down the street, nickering and whinnying. She turned the corner and skidded to a stop right in front of Allistair and Willy. She sat on her haunches and lowered her head as if she were bowing to royalty.
Willy wasted no time climbing into the saddle. She held out her hand to Allistair, saying, “Hop on!”
“You know how to drive one of these?” Allistair asked.
“No, but we don’t have a lot of choice,” Willy said. “Unless you’d rather get shot. And those aren’t Sheriff Jeb’s fake bullets they’re using.”
“True,” Allistair said. She climbed into the saddle behind Willy and threw her arms around her waist. The horse rose to her feet and shook her giant head.
Willy liked the feeling of Allistair all snuggled into her back with her breasts pressed against… Oh shit, what was she thinking? She was getting ready to die, why was she thinking about breasts? Nice, firm breasts that were… shit, there she went again…
Safari Guy fired a volley of bullets at the clowns then looked over his shoulder at them. “Go! I’ll detain them as long as possible! Head west and don’t stop!”
Willy nodded and made the “Okay” symbol with her thumb and forefinger. “Let’s go!” she said to the horse.
The horse didn’t move.
“Go, go, go!” The horse didn’t move.
“What’re we waiting for?” Allistair asked.
“I don’t know where the gas pedal is,” Willy said.
Safari Guy reached over and slapped the horse on the butt. It neighed and rose up on its hind legs like Trigger and the Lone Ranger. Or was Trigger Roy Rogers’ horse?
Allistair closed her eyes and hung on for dear life. Willy flapped the reins, shouting, “Oh my God, I popped a wheelie! Help!”
The horse wheeled around, trotted onto the main street, and galloped toward the setting sun. The clowns fired after the horse and riders but the bullets fell far short of the targets. Willy hung on to the horse and Allistair hung on to Willy and they flopped in the saddle all the way out of town.
The last thing anybody in Ghost Town heard was Willy’s voice shouting from far, far away, “How do you steer this fuckin’ thing?”
Ask Allie
The following is an excerpt from the nationally syndicated column Ask Allie.
Dear Allie,
I have lived with my girlfriend for five years. She refuses to have sex with me anymore. We haven’t been intimate in three years. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Sexless in Seattle
Dear Sexless,
I hate you to tell you this but she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s your roommate.
But here’s a tip: Are you tired of peeling hard-boiled eggs and parts of the egg white peel off with the shell, ruining your presentation? If you poke a hole in the eggshell with a thumbtack before boiling and add a tablespoon of baking soda to the water, you’ll always have easy to peel hard-boiled eggs!
Sincerely,
Allie
P.S. Good luck finding a new girlfriend.
Blazing Saddles
It wasn’t the saddle that was blazing. It was Allistair’s butt. After three hours riding a horse, her butt was killing her. She figured she had at least three blisters on each buttock.
Willy had given up on steering and just let the horse lead them whichever way she wanted. So far the horse had taken them in what appeared to be a serpentine route. However, since it was night and she couldn’t see a fuckin’ thing, she really had no way of knowing where they were headed. They could be traveling in circles for all she knew.
Once the sun began to peek over the horizon, Willy felt better. Something about the sun made things seem not so hopeless. The big, looming, evil, monster shadows of the night turned into mere bushes in the daylight.
“We rode all night,” Willy said.
Allistair squirmed in the saddle behind her. “I don’t know how cowboys do it,” she said. “Their butts must be made of Teflon.”
“Teflon?” Willy asked. “I don’t think they had Teflon back in the Wild West days.”
“You know what I meant,” Allistair said.
“Your simile would be more appropriate if you had said, ‘Cowboys butts must be made of cast iron.’”
“Fuck your simile,” Allistair grumbled.
“Oh, my God!” Willy said. “You cussed! I can’t believe you just cussed!”
“And fuck the horse you rode in on, too,” Allistair added.
Willy laughed.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Allistair asked.
“You. You cuss weird.”
“I don’t cuss weird,” Allistair said.
“You say fuck like you’re saying something sweet. It just sounds sweet coming out of your mouth. Cuss for me again,” Willy said.
Allistair was quiet.
“Oh, so now you won’t cuss. I want you to, so you won’t.”
“How much further?” Allistair whined.
“How the hell would I know?” Willy said. “I don’t have any idea where we’re going, so how would I know if we were almost there or not?”
“Pull the horse over, please,” Allistair said.
“Why?”
“I have to pee.”
“I don’t know where the brakes are.”
“Pull back on the reins,” Allistair said.
Willy yanked back on the reins and the horse stopped. “How’d you know how to stop?”
“John Wayne movies,” Allistair said. She threw a leg over the horse’s rump and slid to the ground, landing on her own rump.
Willy laughed. “Too bad John Wayne didn’t teach you how to dismount.”
Allistair got to her feet and brushed off her backside. “Oh yeah? Let’s see you try it.”
Willy threw a leg over the back of the horse, slid and fell onto her butt. Allistair laughed long and hard.
Willy stood. “It wasn’t that funny.”
Allistair marched over to a bush. “I’ll go behind here.”
“Hurry. I need to go, too.”
“You’re not using this bush. Find your own bush to pee behind.”
“Why can’t I use your bush?”
“I don’t want you to see my pee, that’s why,” Allistair said. She lifted her skirt, pulled down her underwear and squatted. She sincerely hoped her aim was good and she didn’t pee on her own feet.
“How about if I promise not to look at your pee?” Willy asked.
“There are lots of other bushes!” Allistair watched as her pee streamed out behind her, thankfully not soaking any part of herself or her clothing.
“Okay, okay,” Willy said. “I found my own bush. Who knew you were a pee Nazi?”
Allistair stopped peeing, but stayed squatting. How long did it take to drip-dry? She’d never done this before. With any luck at all, she’d never have to do it again.
Willy said, “I’m peeing now.”
“Thanks for the update,” Allistair said. Then she asked a question that had been nagging at her for miles. “Are you going to miss Nellie?”
“Nellie? The deaf chick?”
“No, the other Nellie. Yes, Nellie the deaf girl!” Allistair said snippily.
“Why would I miss her?”
Allistair stood and wiggled her underwear back up. “How can you be so callous?”
“I dunno,” Willy said.
“Out of sight, out of mind, huh?”
“Did I miss something?”
Allistair walked out from behind her bush and faced Willy’s bush. “I thought you loved Nellie.”
“What the hell made you think that?”
Allistair didn’t say anything. She was too busy turning in circles to say anything.
“You still there?” Willy asked.
“I’m still here,” Allistair said. She ran about twenty feet in one direction, then turned and ran in the other direction. “But the horse isn’t.”
Willy walked out from around her bush and stared at Allistair. “What?”
“The horse is gone!” Allistair said. “The horse is gone!”
Willy whistled. No horse. She whistled again. No horse. She cupped her hands around her mouth and walked around in a big circle calling, “Here, horsie! Here, horsie, horsie, horsie!”
“This is all your fault!” Allistair screamed. “If you had set the emergency brake this wouldn’t have happened!”
“There is no emergency brake on a horse!” Willy yelled back.
“Yeah, but you should have tied her up!” Allistair said.
“You’re the one who watched all the fuckin’ John Wayne movies. You should have told me to tie her up!” Willy said.
Loud laughter came from behind a row of nearby bushes. Allistair and Willy sucked in their breath and stared at each other, wide-eyed.
“Did you hear that?” Willy whispered.
“Was it the horse?” Allistair asked.
“I don’t think horses laugh,” Willy said.
“Mr. Ed did,” Allistair said.
Willy was unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Oh, do you really think that’s Mr. Ed? Out here in the middle of nowhere? Laughing behind a bush?”
“No, I don’t,” Allistair said huffily. “I’m just saying if Mr. Ed could laugh then maybe our horse can laugh, too.”
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