10 Gallon Hats O’ Blood

            A Novel by Tom Miller

            PART 3 - CHAPTER 18

            Now there were three. Reddog "Bluedog" Yellowdog, Arthur "No Balls Hanging" Mcgillicutty, and the leader, Ed "Mulebutt" Cracky. They were drunk on the last of their wine, sitting by the fire, talking about their plans to kill Sheriff Useless P. Clodstopper.

            "They hung Sammy," said Reddog. "Hung him like a piece of meat." He spit, and then took a sip of his drink. It was almost midnight, and the men would have to get some sleep. A lone wolf howled in the distance.

            "What are we gonna’ do?" asked Arthur "No Balls Hanging" McGillicutty.

            "I’ll tell you this," replied Ed Cracky, "We ain’t gonna’ turn tail and run. We gotta think of a plan." The men thought for a moment.

            "I got it," Arthur said. "How ‘bout we get some rattlesnakes and let ‘em loose in the jail. He’ll walk in there, step on one, and it’ll bite him. Then he’ll die good."

            "That’s a good idea," said Reddog. Rattle snakes is deadly. All we need to do is to get some and that’ll take care of the sonovabitch."

            "I like it," Ed said. "Anybody got a bag?"

            "I got a pouch," said Reddog. "I keep my things in it. But if I take my things out of the pouch, the snakes could go in there."

            "Okay, that’s good." Ed stood up. He was beginning to feel their plan might work. Reddog got his pouch open and pulled out a rock, another rock, some fur, a bullet, and a finger.

            "I’ll go git us a rattlesnake," Reddog said, and with that, he wandered around looking. Several minutes later, he heard a rattlesnake rattle its tail. "I hear you, rattlesnake," he said to himself. "Right there, behind that bush." He reached around with his outstretched hand to get hold of the snake, and the rattler bit him several times, and he died.

            "What the fuck are you doin?" Said Ed "Mulebutt" Cracky to the writer of 10 Gallon Hats O’ Blood, Tom Miller. "You can’t go and have a senseless death like that for no good reason."

            "Yes I can," I replied. "It’s my fucking story and I can do anything I goddamn well please, you stupid redneck piece of shit."

            "It ain’t fair," Cracky said. "You float around up there like you think yore God, and just indiscriminately wield yore word processor without any feelings for us. Look what you done. Reddog didn’t need to die that way? It’s senseless."

            "Well, what am I supposed to do?" I said, "Reddog doesn’t have much to him. He’s not particularly well developed."

            "I told you he had stinky pee. Why couldn’t you work with that?"

            "Stinky pee," I said. "That’s retarded. What am I going to have him do? Piss on the sheriff?"

            "He could have used his pee to… to…"

            "Yeah yeah yeah, what? He could pee gallstones at the sheriff? His pee could be made of acid and he could burn the sheriff’s flesh? What? He could make pee balloons that blow up on impact? What? Where can I go with it?"

            "Well, Jesus Christ. At the very least, you could have given him a more dignified death than an ordinary snake bite right at the beginning of the chapter."

            "Alright, alright. Shit! You’re like a little girl. Whining and whining until you get your way. Fine. I’ll kill him some other way, but I tell you this; In chapter 18, He’s goin’ down. You hear me, Cracky? And you’re not going to live either, and neither is No Balls.

            "Me," said Arthur "No Balls Hanging" McGillicutty, "What the hell did I do?"

            "You’re the villain." I replied. "Good always triumphs over evil, especially in a proper Western."

            "That’s bullshit, right there!" Ed said. "I heard tell about some books and movies where the bad guy wins. That’s when the writer gets creative. If you’re supposed to be such a hot shot writer, then you need to think about that."

            "Nope," I said. "You’re all going down, and the sheriff is going to walk off into the sunset, just like a western’s supposed to end."

            "Excuse me," said Sniff Snacky, the glob of inert jelly. "What about me?"

            "You’re dead already, so shut the fuck up."

            "Sorry," Sniff Snacky said, and then he melted into a puddle of goop; his two dead eyes lazy and aimless.

            "Sniff Snacky’s got a point. Look what you did to him. He only got about three sentences, and then you had a deer-lookin’ alien lick him to death. That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of."

            "I don’t give a shit," I said. "Get back to the action. You’re boring the reader."

            "What if I don’t. What if I just sit right here with my legs crossed and don’t do one more thing the whole story."

            "Then I’ll replace you with a better villain."

            "You don’t have the balls."

            "Don’t I?" I asked.

            "You’d never do it. You need me. Without me, you ain’t got no kind of Western at all."

            "Is that so?"

            "That’s right, Mr. Writer man. There ain’t no villain that’s gonna’ put out for you like I do. Didn’t you see my gun battle in chapter 10? That there was exciting stuff."

            "I can do better."

            "Well I protest! I’m on strike. And I’m gonna’ sit right down here and I ain’t movin’ until you write us better."

            "Get up!"

            "Can’t make me."

            "Get up, or you’re history."

            "You haven’t got the guts."

            Suddenly, a ferocious monkey came running from a cluster of trees. He headed for Ed Cracky and he was shrieking. But Ed just sat there, unable to move.

            "That ain’t fair, Miller." The monkey bit into his face and tore away the flesh. Then he made a fist and thrust it into Ed Cracky’s chest cavity and grabbed his heart. The monkey ripped the heart out, threw it into the air, and ran back to the trees hooting in triumph as Ed Cracky fell over into the puddle of his own blood and died.

            "So what’s that mean?" Asked Ed. "I’m out?"

            "Out. Get out of the story."

            "A ferocious monkey? You gotta be kidding me."

            "Get out. You’re dead. Hit the road."

            "Tore my heart out? Come on. Come on."

            "History. Move along."

            "So what could possibly replace me? What’s gonna’ be better than a cold hearted killer like me?"

            From over the hills it came. The birds scattered and the clouds turned dark. The winds turned cold and the foliage wilted and died. The horror was fast approaching and only Arthur "No Balls Hanging" McGillicutty remained alive to see it.

            "Holy shit!" said Arthur. "It’s… it’s… it’s… JESUS CHRIST! He’s BACK!"

            "KILL YOU ALL!" said Jesus in a horrible growling voice. "KILL YOU ALL FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME." He pulled out his gun and began shooting.

            A bullet caught Arthur McGillicutty in the neck and he went down. Jesus began to float. "AHHHH!" He shouted, and the sky turned into flames. "SHREEEEK!" said Jesus. Then the earth blew up.

            "Okay," said Ed. "I give up. I’ll participate."

            "That’s my villain."

            "Would you just consider giving Reddog another more dignified death? That’s all I ask. If not for me, do it for Jesus."

            "Well Jesus?" I asked, "What do you think?"

            "Fine by me," Jesus said. "After all, the Bible does preach compassion."

            "Fair enough," I replied. "Thanks for stopping by. Your services are no longer required."

            "Thanks, Tom. Anything for a friend." And with that, Jesus floated back to mars to await the second coming.

            "Do we have a deal?" Asked Ed.

            "Alright. Deal." Ed Cracky took his place by the fire. Arthur McGillicutty sat next to him. And Reddog Bluedog Yellowdog was resurrected and continued looking for a rattle snake.

            "Here, rattlesnake." He called out. "I hear you." He reached around the bush, grabbed the snake in a professional snake handler’s grip, and placed the snake into the pouch. He collected three more snakes in this fashion and was heading back to the camp, when he slipped on a pebble and landed face first on a jagged rock which speared into the part of the brain that controls most of the body’s major organs. The snakes escaped from the pouch and bit him in the asshole, and he died pissin’ in his shorts.

            And boy did it stink.

            "You sonovabitch!" said Cracky. "You Goddamn Sonovabitch!"