Smelly Jack Buchanan.
He’s an example of a character I didn’t really consider in my mind at first but then after sitting down and flushing things out, it has been a lot of fun to create him.
I needed a hook. And after thinking of a few different problems he could have had to make him reviled by my 3.5 readers, I finally settled on that he’s smelly.
And he isn’t happy about that nickname. He regularly protests that the press was supposed to refer to him as “Handsome Jack” but that nickname just won’t catch on the way “Smelly Jack” did.
Then on top of that, he has a gang, “The Buchanan Boys” which largely consists of 30+ members of his inbred family.
Brothers, cousins, and then the running joke becomes that most of them are his “brother-cousins.”
So in other words, his mother got together with one of her brothers and…
OK nevermind. We don’t need to think about that. Yuck.
As the story progresses, the ancillary Buchanan Boys become a lot like “the Minions” i.e. the little yellow henchmen on Despicable Me.
There isn’t much description of them because I can’t provide individual descriptions of over 30 people, but whenever Jack needs a lackey to do something, I just think of another name for a Buchanan. Rufus Buchanan, Frank Buchanan, Artie Buchanan…the list goes on.
They’re all expendable.
Also, I liked Smelly Jack’s line about “if you’ve got the steel you make the deals.”
Pretty much a good introduction to what the Old West was like. The US Government wanted it, but either didn’t have or didn’t want to spend enough money on Army/Law Enforcement so the day was often won by a-holes with guns i.e. people like Smelly Jack.
Almost makes you think Gunther has a point about walking away.
Jack Buchannan earned the nickname “Smelly Jack” due to the fact that he and soap weren’t exactly good acquaintances. His hat and duster were covered in stains. That’s because he never bothered to wash either of them. Ever.
His beard was filled with little chunks of food. Amongst the populace, there was a difference of opinion as to whether Jack was saving his lunch for later of if he was just a sloppy eater. The answer was likely a little from Column A and a little from Column B.
Worst of all, he was bat shit crazy, a murderous psychopath who should have been thrown in an insane asylum the day he was born. And that’s just what his mother had to say about him.
BLAM! Jack blasted his Remington straight in the air. His boys were rowdy. Anxious. Itching for a fight. They shared their leader’s grooming habits. Most…
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