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Deadwood, A deep burning pain in mah groin..


Captain Enema
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"I'm gonna mosey mah way on down that there street," Marshall Denard says to his deputies.

"Sah, thems Clayton boys are out there, the Clayton boys are out there!" the deputies collectively ejaculate with appropriate facial expressions relaying the impression they are about three steps away from dropping a collective bomb in their shorts.Which is the truth of the matter. These men, these very few men, all of known reputations for hardness and a certain handiness with their guns, are scared to death of the Claytons.

"Now boys, yall don't get yer knickers in a knot, I'm is a gonna mosey on down that there lane and I is gonna wander on out the other end. Yall here me now?" Denard asks as he straps on the matching pair of pearl handled .45 long pistols.

"Sah, you know what they said about that there Jubal Clayton?" Bille Bungalow asks.

"Well I reckon the story about how he shot that Injun on his horse while blindfolded and on top of a stage coach nekkid is a bucket of hogwash. Don't you fret now son, I done took yo' mama's virginity, twice.. once in each.. errr.. never mind thet... don't you fret now.. I'm a man of the cloth, god is on my side," Denard exclaims as he gives each of the pistols a test draw.

"Sah, what 'xactly did youse say about mah mama?" Billy Bungalow asks with a confused look on his face.

"Son, don't fret none about that either. You mama is a proper and respected whore who is the only soiled dove I know who charges three whole dollars for a good root," Denard reassures Billy in a fatherly tone.

"Oh, thank you sah, she's a lovely ol' filly," Billy says as he regains his simple state of peace that some might claim as a bit too simple for conventional terms of simple. A bold sort of chap might even claim it to his face, but the last one that did has served as a bit of a warning for those others who might dare to do so. No one really has had the hankering to die from being stabbed to death with a chicken bone held by a two hundred and twenty pound semi-retarded man screaming, "MAMA LOVVVVES ME!" on top of them.

"Now you go give yo' mama my regards and tell her I'll come a calling later on tonight after I have my supper boy," Denard orders as he turns his full attention to the matter at hand. That small matter of facing down a band of armed and dangerous desperadoes.

"Yes sah!" Billy says as he scoots out the door.

"Now god damn yall to heck and back, one of yall go get me a cup of coffee while the other shines my boots and damn it, someone better be working on my autobiography for me," Denard snaps.

"Sir, point of order?" Chauncey requests.

"What boy, WHAT?" Denard roars.

"Autobiography sir?" Chauncey asks.

"Boy you want me to fill you so full of let your own daddy can use you as a pencil?" Denard asks.

"No sir," Chauncey replies.

"Autobiography it is then," Denard intones.

"Indeed sir," Chauncey replies as he reasserts himself to the task of exaggerating the life story of one Wild Bill Denard even more than it already is.

"Right then, one of you rotten piles of horse turds go and get me my scatter gun, I aim to spread my seed far and wide with that contraption," Denard shouts he waits impatiently.

"Your scattergun sah," one of his deputies says.

"Good lad, now how many Clayton boys are out there?" Denard asks.

"Eleven sir," the deputy replies.

"Hmm, might be time to take a nap and have some lunch," Denard intones wisely.

"Might just be sah," replies the deputy.


.. to be continued.

(00c; I'm so drunk I got underwear on my head. see facebook for proof.)

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