Monthly Archives: March 2016

How the West Was ZOMBED – Chapter 8

This is the chapter that made me believe this story had legs.

I started out with Slade as a quiet stoic – a parody of Clint Eastwood’s “stranger” in his old cowboy movies like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Brown hair, bulging forehead vein, raspy voice, doesn’t talk much.

But then I thought well, that joke can only go so far.

Then it hit me – what if he isn’t this tough guy with everyone? What if, behind closed doors, he lets it all hang out with Miss Bonnie?

I love it. I think it’s funny. He shows such little emotion to everyone else but then he’s crying to Miss Bonnie. Waah. My Deputy hates me. Standing Eagle Hates me. Everyone hates me. Being a marshall is hard. Waah make me feel better.

I relate to this chapter. Personally, I feel like in a perfect relationship, you shouldn’t have to be “on” with your significant other. You get up, you go out in the world, you put on your brave, tough face. You might be unhappy in your mind but you get your job done and come home.

You shouldn’t have to put up a front with your wife or husband. So many other people out there will be happy to tear you down so why not be with someone who is willing to prop you up when you’re feeling down?

I guess people might differ, but I feel like that’s what a marriage is supposed to be all about and a lot of people lose sight of that. Looks seem to trump everything but people forget we all get old and you still need to be able to trust and carry on a conversation with that person when they’re old and hideous.

Slade attempts a proposal. He’s got a ring. He doesn’t actually show it. He offers to take her away from all this. It’s not the same as a proposal but its an indication that he’d like more of a relationship where he pays her to snuggle and talk.

She rebuffs him but when he knocks out Roscoe for calling her a whore, she’s like, well, I’m in love, no one’s cared enough to do something like that for me before.

And then we see how easily can slip back into his fake tough guy facade.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure if people pick up on this, but you know how Christian Bale will be Bruce Wayne and talk normal and then he’ll be Batman and talk with a raspy voice?

That’s kind of like what Slade is doing here. He’s a normal guy around Miss Bonnie but then he puts on a tough personality to the rest of the world.

I feel like this would come across better if this were a movie. An actor acting one way in front of Bonnie and another in front of everyone else, you’d get but here it is easy to miss.

I also like how he offered to pay for the money Roscoe would have paid had he not been knocked out and Miss Bonnie replies that she’ll just go through his pants and take it out later.

Oh and we learn that Miss Bonnie shot her ex husband. I still can’t think of a way in which that would come up so it’s looking like that might be a secret Slade will never find out.

She’s a prostitute and a brothel owner. Usually, you’re one or the other but I thought it worked well with the backstory – she’s scooping up as much money as she can so she doesn’t have to be dependent on a man because when she was it didn’t end well.

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“EVERYBODY HATES ME!!!”

The rasp in his voice disappeared, the scowl lifted, his tongue was no longer tied and the words flowed out of Slade’s mouth like the choppy waters of a roaring river. As if that weren’t bad enough, the lawman’s face was covered with snot and tears.

“Shhh baby,” Miss Bonnie said softly as she stroked her fingers through Slade’s luscious brown hair. “I got you. Hush that fool talk now, no one hates you.”

Yup. Men have needs and sometimes one of them is the shoulder of a good woman to cry on, or in this case, an ample bosom to cry into. Why? What did you readers think Slade needed?

Perverts.

“YEPH DEY DOOTH!” Slade’s voice was muffled by Miss Bonnie’s copious assets. He turned his head to the side for purposes of pronunciation and better air inhalation.

“Who?” Miss Bonnie asked. “Who hates you?”

Somehow…

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How the West Was ZOMBED -Chapter 7

I liked this Chapter.

Doc is the kind of guy who lies nonstop yet I’m pretty sure he believes himself. I’ve met people like this. You probably have too.

Some of his lies are probably half-grounded in reality. He probably has traveled the world. Maybe he’s been to England and India and felt that justifies adding a fib about advising the Queen and the Raj.

Then again, he lies so much, you’d never know if he was telling the truth if he was.

I thought it was a) very funny and b) developing his character by having him finagle his way into charging three women for umm illicit activities on the grounds of a medical examination.

And keep in mind, he’s such a good liar he believes he’s doing them a favor.

I had no idea “Annabelle” would be back but she does come back later to humorous effect and really compliments Doc as a fellow self absorbed perverted reprobate. They make a good couple.

In the rewrite, I will probably cut out the two women (sorry Doc, you’re losing your three-way) and just flush out Annabelle a bit more, what does she look like etc and just make it so Doc talks her into his ummm…medical advice.

This scene was by and large to set up what it is like inside the Bonnie Lass, the town’s saloon. Cowboys fighting, typical chairs being broken, crooked card games, all usual Western stuff.

Miss Bonnie’s sass shows when she shoots the bottle out of a guy’s hand before he can break it over someone else’s head.

Looking back, it might be a glimpse into the idea that she isn’t totally happy there. It’s like her whole life is spent babysitting “assholes” and I have noticed as the story goes on, she calls people assholes often.

The downside to this chapter is Doc gets lost for awhile. At this moment, Gunther is baby sitting the Buchanan Boys at the church and since there are 30 plus, he can’t do it alone. I don’t think even he and Doc could do that alone.

Doc can’t be a guard and be charming prostitutes at the same time, so I erred on the side of letting him slip away for awhile just because that’s how much I like him in this scene.

Finally, the end – where Slade comes in and there’s all this talk of “Miss Bonnie having something Slade needed and he wasn’t going to leave until he got it…”

It makes you think that he came there to get busy, right? But read on to Chapter 8…

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Sundown was the busiest time to visit the Bonnie Lass. Men had needs and Miss Bonnie’s gals aimed to please. Like prize peacocks, they strutted their stuff around the saloon floor, adept in the art of separating lonely men from their money.

Most of those men were lonely for a reason. Ugly, mean, miserable, alcoholic slimeballs without a dime to their name and no accomplishments to speak of.

Of course, in any brothel, there’s the occasional man who isn’t so bad but just can’t get out of his own way when it comes to chatting up a member of the fairer sex.

Once in awhile, there’s even a man who, despite all the odds against him, charms the ladies into having a good time.

Doc was one of those men. A scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other, he sat in a comfy chair in a back corner. Martha and…

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Chloe Grace Moretz on Korean SNL

First of all, I never knew Saturday Night Life existed in other countries.

Second, I wish I knew what they were saying.  All I can tell is that she gets invited to this family’s house for dinner, gets upset three minutes in to the video and slaps the guy in the face with some kind of spicy meat dish.

If I were Korean I’d probably find this hilarious.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsOcEyuTNTM

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 61

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For forty plus years, Gunther had avoided being in charge, opting to retain the position of deputy rather than take many offered promotions to the rank of full fledged marshall.

As Ophelia henpecked away at him, he was reminded why he hated situations like this. Being left in charge meant he had to listen to everyone whine and complain.

“This is ridiculous,” Ophelia said. “What kind of a man leaves his bride in the middle of…of…whatever’s going on?”

The Reverend hiccuped then poured himself another drink. “The end of the world is nigh! The Almighty will cleanse the earth of all sinners!”

“I’m sure Rain will be back as soon as he can,” Gunther said. “He just had to rescue…”

Ophelia was about to open her mouth but she thought better of it when she saw Sarah sitting by herself in one of the pews, sobbing.

“…the whore,” Ophelia whispered.

“So?” Gunther asked.

“Don’t tell me you approve,” Ophelia said.

“Don’t whores deserve a rescue too?” Gunther asked.

“Disgusting,” Ophelia said. “Absolutely shameful.”

“Repent all ye sinners,” the Reverend said as he took another belt. “For we shall all soon be judged unworthy in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Reverend,” Doc said. “Can you stick a cork in it? You’re scaring the women folk.”

The Reverend lowered his voice but kept boozing and mumbling biblical verses to himself.

“I always knew Slade was yella,” Blake said. “That coward hightailed it outta here first chance he got.”

“Shut your trap, Martin,” Gunther said. “You’ll never be half the man Rainier Slade is and that’s why you’re always on a tear about him.”

“How’s that?” Blake asked.

“You’re jealous,” Gunther said.
“That’s crazy talk,” Blake said.

“You don’t got the guts strap on a gun and hunt down outlaws yourself so you badmouth a man that’s braver than you are just to make yourself feel better about it,” Gunther said.

“Them’s fighting words,” Blake said.

“Maybe,” Gunther said. “But them’s also truthful words.”

Blake moved towards Gunther. Townsend put his hand on Blake’s shoulder.

“Settle down,” Townsend said. “He’s pegged you right.”

“You’re taking HIS side?” Blake asked his old friend.

“No,” Townsend replied. “But there’s no use fighting over it. Slade has obviously abandoned us and now we have to figure out what to do next.”

Gunther slapped his head at the stupidity. “Holy shit.”

Doc splayed out in a pew and rested his head on Annabelle’s lap. He felt some relief as his companion stroked her hands through his hair. His stomach was still unsettled and he’d broken out into a cold sweat. Annabelle noticed his forehead felt cold and clammy.

“I…”

Doc coughed.

“Pardon me,” Doc said. “I must protest at these assaults on Mr. Slade’s character. In the short time I’ve known him I’ve seen nothing but a man of steely reserve and remarkable fort…”

He coughed again. A loud hack.

“…itude.”

“Maybe we should leave without him,” Ophelia said. “We’re sitting ducks here.”

“No one’s going anywhere, Mrs. Hutchins,” Gunther said. “And could you step away from the window?”

“Why?” Ophelia asked.

“It’s…” Gunther closed his eyes for a second, irate that Ophelia was making him explain something so obvious. “Because it’s not safe. There might be more of those creepy crawlers out there looking at you right now.”

Sarah’s sobs grew louder. Gunther looked at Annabelle.

“What?” Annabelle asked.

The old man pointed his head at Sarah.

“Oh,” Annabelle said. “OK.”

Annabelle got up out from underneath Doc and held up his hand. She pointed Doc’s hand toward Gunther.

“Can you…”

“Huh?” Gunther asked.

“Well I can’t comfort two people at once!” Annabelle protested.

Gunther was hesitant. “You want me to…”

“Yes,” Annabelle replied.

Disgusted, Gunther rolled his eyes as he took Doc’s sweaty hand into his.

Annabelle walked over to Sarah’s pew and put her arm around the bride.

“Shhh,” she said. “It’s all going to be ok.”

Gunther made an effort to follow Annabelle’s lead.

“Umm,” he said to Doc. “There, there…”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Beauregard,” Doc said. “How I adore your kindness in this most trying time.”

“Nope!” Gunther said. He let go of Doc’s hand, letting it plop down on the patient’s chest. “Nothin’ doin.’ I’ve only held the hands of two men in my life. One was my father when I was a little boy and one was a sergeant getting his leg amputated on the battlefield. Call me when you need to get a limb hacked off.”

“Hellfire and brimstone,” the Reverend said. “The heat will be excruciating.”

Doc swiped the Reverend’s bottle. “You’re cut off.”

Blake rested his hands on his big brass belt buckle. “I’m in charge now.”

“What?” Gunther asked.

“I’m in charge and I say we all go,” Blake said. “I’m not going to die waiting for Slade when we all know that lowlife is never coming back.”

“He’s coming back,” Gunther said.

“And what if he doesn’t?” Blake asked.

“Then who’s stopping you?” Gunther asked. “There’s the door. Leave whenever you want.”

“You don’t think I won’t?” Blake asked.

“I don’t give a shit,” Gunther answered.

“Maybe Slade’s dead,” Ophelia said.

Sarah heard that and buried her head into Annabelle’s shoulder, crying away. Gunther grimaced at Ophelia and pointed at the bride.

“Oh,” Ophelia whispered. “Maybe Slade’s dead.”

“We all heard you the first time,” Gunther said. “And it’s a bit early to start thinking the worst, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Ophelia asked. “We need to be prepared for anything, especially when the man we’re all depending on has..”

A cold and slimy undead hand punched through the window, spraying out pieces of glass. It covered Ophelia’s face, muffling her attempts to scream.

“Son of a bitch,” a dumbstruck Blake said.

Gunther came to Ophelia’s aid just in time to see a grotesque, burned up head poke its way through the window, preparing to turn the maid of honor into a meal.

The old man smashed the Reverend’s bottle against the wall to create a makeshift knife. He jammed it into the monster’s forehead, pushing it through until he hit brain. The creature let go of Ophelia and collapsed on the porch outside with a thud.

“Oh thank God,” Ophelia said as she struggled to catch her breath. “You saved my…”

Another set of hands…and another…and another…six filthy hands in total grabbed Ophelia by the face, waist and legs and yanked on her. Gunther grabbed Ophelia’s hand and pulled back with everything he had.

Doc stirred at the commotion. He stumbled on wobbly legs and grabbed Ophelia’s other hand. Annabelle ran over and found a place on Ophelia’s arm and pulled.

Sarah took one look and hid under the pew.

“Aw shit,” Blake said.

The Reverend was too drunk to care. Townsend eventually walked over to lend a hand but it was too late.

The old chubby lady’s shrieks pierced everyones’ ears as she was ripped to pieces. Gunther found himself holding one bloody limb. Doc and Annabelle held the other. Both arms were dropped and the would be heroes backed away.

One of the damned had an eyeball hanging out of its socket. It feasted on a big hunk of Ophelia’s flesh, drenching its lips with blood. Then he and the other two undead slowly turned their heads towards the smorgasbord that awaited them inside the church.

“Don’t…make…a…sound,” Doc said as he slowly backed away, using very small footsteps.

Gunther and Annabelle followed suit.

“I suspect they are like grizzly bears,” Doc whispered. “Only when they suspect you are running away will they pounce.”

The damned creatures growled. One undead had a face that was burnt up like a piece of charcoal. He put his leg over the windowsill and crawled inside.

“Well fuck that theory,” Gunther said.”

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Zombie Western Sequels

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Hello 3.5 readers.

For the 3.5 of you reading this…advise me.

Do you want to see Slade and Gunther in a sequel?

I’m currently leaning towards no.  Slade’s Eastwood-esque stoic persona is a joke that only gets so much mileage, I feel.

Although he does talk a lot more around Miss Bonnie…and she did just kill a damn werewolf so I suppose if they’re fighting zombies together it could work.

My mind has come up with two sequels, neither one including Slade.  Both books include actual historical cowboys/girls though obviously, very fictional versions of them.

The second book I have in mind is set in the world and has Calamity Jane fighting zombies and more Legion Corporation shenanigans.

The third book I’m considering sees Wyatt Earp and his friend Doc Holliday fighting zombies and yes, more Legion Corporation shenanigans.

Believe it or not, I have three more book ideas beyond that but I’d have to see a lot of people liking these or else I’ll probably just try another story idea.

So I guess my first question is do you want to see all/any of these characters in the first book return?

My gut is telling me that each future book would include a fictional version of a historic cowboy.  Although if I make it to four books, I do have a fictional cowboy in mind.

Book 5 would involve Mexico.  Book 6, God help me, would involve an elderly Slade becoming Gunther to a young cowboy, bringing the whole thing full circle.

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Tonight’s Walking Dead

SPOILERS!

Super violent episode tonight.  Rick and Co. took on “The Saviors.”

They’d never tangled with this group before, but the Hilltop people had been forced into servitude to them.

Rick and the gang agreed to take out the Saviors in exchange for regular food payments from the Hilltop.

They reason that if they don’t, then the Saviors will eventually attack them.

Obviously, some parallels to today’s world.  There are some who argue that it is necessary to take out bad groups, regimes, etc who are wreaking havoc before they get out of control and there are others who say we should mind our own business and don’t attack unless we’re attacked first.

Are preemptive strikes a good or bad idea?  Did the group cross the line?

What say you, 3.5 readers?

By the way, JB Smoove is a hilarious guest on tonight’s Talking Dead.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 60

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Miss Bonnie dismounted her impromptu steed. Miles ripped the door to the Marshall’s office off its hinges. He walked in and sniffed. The place smelled of Slade but he wasn’t there.

Miles cringed. There was a new voice in his brain. It was low and menacing. Hewitt.

“Where are you boy?”

He clutched his paws around his head, hoping in vain this would make it stop. It didn’t.

“Why don’t you give up?  You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

Miles roared. Miss Bonnie was baffled, unsure what was wrong with her new friend. She ransacked the office, looking for anything that could help. When she opened up the desk drawers, she found the jackpot. Lots of ammo boxes. She found an old burlap sack in the corner and filled it.

“You don’t need to go out like your old man,” Hewitt said. “Join up with Legion and there will be some money in it for you. Don’t be a chump like your father.”

Another roar. Miles dropped to his knees. He wanted to scream “Get it out, get it out!” but he couldn’t speak openly in werewolf form. He curled up in a ball, hugged his knees and rocked back and forth until he was human again.

The transformation stunned Miss Bonnie. “How did you…”

Heavy footsteps pounded across the roof. A human Miles stood up and put his hand over Miss Bonnie’s mouth.

“Shhh!”

With startled eyes, the pair looked up at the ceiling. Thump…thump…thump went Hewitt’s feet, rattling the boards above their heads.

Two Winchesters hanged on the wall, the property of Slade and Gunther, respectively. Miles grabbed them and laid them out on the desk.

“Load this,” Miles whispered as he handed the redhead one of the rifles.

Miss Bonnie opened up the bag and took out a box of cartridges. Miles stopped her and pointed to the bandolier that was hanging over her shoulder, across her chest.

“With those,” the boy whispered.

Miss Bonnie nodded. She took a bullet out of the bandolier. The shiny silver tip caught her eye. She loaded the rifle to capacity.

THUMP! More footsteps.

Miles pointed to the ceiling, then to his head, then to his heart. Miss Bonnie’s face scrunched up in bewilderment. The boy repeated the motions. The redhead nodded, getting the gist that only a head or heart shot with a silver bullet would do the trick against the monster that was hunting them.

The footsteps stopped. A set of sharp nails dragged their way across the wall behind Slade’s desk. Miss Bonnie and Miles recoiled back to the opposite wall, huddling together quietly. They were in a panic to be sure, but were too scared to say anything about it.

A few seconds passed. Miles began to wonder if his foe had given up and left.

SMASH! A pair of paws crashed through the wall. One grabbed Miles, the other grabbed Miss Bonnie and with tremendous force, they were pulled through the wall and out into the night air.

Hewitt tossed Miss Bonnie aside, deciding to make Miles his first victim. Miss Bonnie dropped her rifle as she flew through the air, only to land in the dirt. Her body ached with pain and was covered with cuts, scrapes and bruises.

She looked up. The wolf man had Mile’s throat in his paw and was holding the boy in the air, squeezing tighter and tighter. Miles thrashed his feet to and fro wildly as he struggled to release himself. It was no use.

Miss Bonnie stood up and found the rifle. She yanked the lever to rack up a bullet. She looked down the sights at Hewitt’s big furry head.  She could only see the side.

“Hey asshole!” she shouted.

Hewitt turned around to face her.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Miss Bonnie squeezed the trigger. A hole opened up right between Hewitt’s yellow eyes. His hand released Miles and he along with Hewitt’s hairy carcass tumbled to the ground.

She ran over and helped Miles up.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Miles said.
They returned to the office to gather up the bag of ammo and the other rifle.

“You can turn yourself into one of those things whenever you want?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Yes,” Miles said. “I’m a werewolf.”

“So why didn’t you?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a very good one,” Miles said.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 6

Here we have our first introduction to Standing Eagle. We learn that there is a tribe of Native Americans living nearby, and that Slade and Standing Eagle have formed a tenuous friendship over the past year that has kept the townsfolk and the tribe from attacking each other.

I had to put a lot of thought into this. Native Americans got a pretty raw deal and that’s an understatement. To fully grasp what happened, imagine if a race of better armed aliens comes to earth today and is like, “OK, I guess we’ll live here now” – would we humans be like, “Hello, we’re already here.”

Purposely, I don’t mention what tribe he’s from because I know if I do someone will object. “You have him doing this or that but that tribe didn’t wear that kind of clothing, do that kind of thing…etc.”

I don’t believe Native Americans particularly care for being portrayed in Westerns since the sentiment behind any western is “Hooray for the cowboys!” and the cowboys didn’t really give the natives much to celebrate, to put it mildly.

But I felt any western really needs Native Americans so my attempt at keeping everyone happy revolves around basically making Standing Eagle feel like, “Sheesh…another mess made by these dummies that I have to help them clean up.”

I do need to rewrite the curse. Initially, it was going to be more of a mystery where people wonder whether the zombie outbreak was caused by the curse or by Doc’s medicine.

But as we’ll see later – we find out that Blythe is plotting a zombie apocalypse before our heroes find out there’s going to be one.

Thus, the reader will become bored if he/she knows who’s bringing the apocalypse – once everyone knows, the red herring is pointless.

I may change the curse to “something bad will happen” or I might remove it all together. I had to remove it because I enjoy the line, “Shut up, dumbass. I’m trying to curse you here.”

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There Smelly Jack laid, face down in the dirt, defeated and humiliated, his hands and feet hogtied behind his back. His brothers, cousins, and brother-cousins were all arranged similarly in a line that stretched the entire length of the the road.

Slade and Gunther stood watch over the wanton criminal, ignoring his demands for clemency.

“Dammit Slade, ‘aint you an officer of the law?!” Jack asked. “You’re just going to let them damn dirty Injuns take me away?!”

He didn’t show it, but the Marshall enjoyed letting Smelly Jack sweat.

Standing Eagle approached.

“Let me do the talking,” Slade said to Gunther.

“Since when do you do any talking?” Gunther asked.

“Don’t do the fake Injun talk shit,” Slade said. “He hates that.”

The Chief embraced Slade, who in turn, just let his arms hang down at his sides. Slade’s machismo would not allow him to hug another man.

“I am glad I…

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 5

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.

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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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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 4

A glimpse at the affection held between Slade and Miss Bonnie.

Slade’s stoic facade is cracked by a smile when he is told by Gunther that Miss Bonnie is concerned about his well being.

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Slade was right where Gunther had left him, still in the street, concentrating on his duty. The Marshall finished his chaw and traded up to a cigar, chewing on it as he squinted through his half-closed eyelids under the blinding high noon sunlight.

“I’ve recruited a special deputy,” Gunther said.

Doc put his hand out. Slade shook it. “Obliged,” was the most gratitude the stoic was able to muster.

“A distinct honor to meet you, Marshall,” Doc said. “Doctor Elias T. Faraday, M.D. by way of Boston, Massachusetts though I assure you I’m no relation to the Chestnut Hill Faradays, lousy beggars…”

“He’ll chew your ear off and spit it out if you let him,” Gunther warned.

The three men stood in a row, watching and waiting, waiting and watching. Had you, the noble reader, been facing them, you’d of seen Slade in the middle, Gunther on the left, and…

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