Look out, Gunshot Gulch!

Finally.

I’ve needed a haircut for a while now. I step up to the doors of the establishment. They don’t cover the entirety of the frame and can be opened with a simple creaky push. Ragtime piano is playing, I recognize the tune even. “Everyone loves the Entertainer!” I mutter. But there are a half dozen or so tables with men playing cards and drinking.

“What kinda salon is this?” I grumble at the chaos. Where were the chairs and quippy women and racks of shampoo.

I stride up to the counter.

A sweaty man cleaning a glass grins at me. “What can I do ya fer, stranger?”

“Well,” I say, sitting on one of the stools, “I’m looking for a hair dresser.”

His face bunches up as he thinks. “I don’t know that one.” His grin returns, sheepish. “Then again, all I really gots is beer and whisky.”

“No, no, I’m looking for a person who dresses hair,” I explain.

“Wellsir,” he says scratching his head. “Them ladies upstairs have dresses ‘n hair.” He lowers his voice. “If that’s what yer lookin fer, they’re the best in town.”

I look up at the balcony. A pretty blonde in a red frock with a feather in her hair catches my eye and twinkles her fingers at me. I wave back.

“Right,” the apparent salon owner says. “Can I getcha a drink afore…ya get yer hair dressed?”

I am quite parched. “Hmm, how about a water?”

There’s a record scratch. The guy playing The Entertainer stops. Someone gasps. “crazy sunnuva gun” someone else mutters.

“You sure about that, partner?” the man says.

“You bet,” I say. He slides me a glass and I catch it like they do in the movies. “Say, this looks a lot like chocolate milk. You sure it’s water?”

The proprietor nods solemnly. “I ain’t gonna tell ya yer business, but ya oughta have a beer instead.”

Before I can reply, the pretty blonde slides on the stool next to me. The proprietor winks at me and backs away. “Hey handsome!” she says. “I’m Penelope. Ya fancy some company?” She rests a gloved hand on my wrist.

Wow, the hair dressers here sure are friendly. “Sure we can chat before we get down to business. I’m new in town.”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, I can see that.” Behind us, a fight breaks out. A table flips over and several glasses break.

“Yew cheatin–,” one guy says but he eats a punch to the face. Someone shouts “yee haw!” and the two men roll around on the floor.

“Hey! Ya’ll better take that outside ‘fore I call the sheriff!” the proprietor bellows.

One of the guys wipes blood away from his nose. “Sorry, Sam,” he says.

The other guy spits out a tooth into a spittoon and it goes pa-ting. “Yeah, sorry,” he says. They help each other right the table and sit back down to continue their game. The put their cool cowboy hats back on. Dudes rock.

“Men,” Penelope says fluttering her eyelashes sweetly. “Did ya’ll play cards yet?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I came looking for you first thing.” I wink and she blushes. I know this game, she’s angling for a tip, but I’m still flattered. “Do you play cards?”

“Oh, honey, I know alll kindsa games. I’m very good at poker,” she says as if that means something.

“That’s cool. Do you know Magic: the Gathering?”

Penelope’s smile fails her. “Magic the what?”

“Oh wow, a first timer,” I say and she snorts for some reason. “Anyway it’s this really cool card game where you use colors and lands to summon creatures to do battle.”

“Sounds very complicated.”

I nod. “Yeah it can be.” She seems into it though. “Say, would you like to play a round before you take care of me?”

“It’s your dime, honey,” she says with a laugh.

I guess it makes sense that she’d consider a game on the clock. “Well in that case, we need to find some boosters. Do you know where the best place to get them might be?”

She blinks at me. “Well I guess we could try Malcolm’s drug store. He sells everything there!”

I clap my hands and rub em together. “Great! Wanna lead the way?”

She pauses and her smile fails her utterly. “Bless your heart, you really don’t know what’s goin on here do ya?” My head turns into a question mark and she pinches my cheek. “Well ain’t you just the cutest.” She kisses me on the same cheek. Wow they really are friendly here. “Tell ya what,” she whispers. “Ya’ll come up stairs with me and it’ll be on the house.”

“Wow, Penelope, that’s awful generous of you,” I say. “I don’t think I could let you do that. A gentleman always-”

The room suddenly became weirdly quiet. I look around and there’s an imposing guy in a black duster standing in the doorway.

“Penny. Who the heck is this?” Except he didn’t say heck. He said the H-E-double-hockey sticks word.

“C’mon, Sidewinder, I’m workin’ here,” Penelope says, but I can see she’s tense.

The tough looking guy eyes me. “Not with him you ain’t. Yer my wh-”

“WHOA HEY!” I say standing up and knocking my stool over. “We don’t use that kinda language here,” I say, thrusting a finger into his chest. “The appropriate term is ‘sex worker.’ And Miss Penelope here is just a very good hair dresser, so–”

Sidewinder brushes aside his duster and pats his gun. “I think you oughta step outside, son.” Man he’s got such a cool voice.

I think about what Sam said to the brawlers a few minutes ago. He seems like a cool guy, so I’m gonna respect him. Sidewinder doesn’t wait for me, so I pick up my stool and pretend to dust myself off so everyone knows how nonchalant I am.

“Don’t you know who that is?” Sam says eyes wide. “That’s Cyrus Driscoll. They call him the Sidewinder cuz he’s the fastest draw in Gunshot Gulch.”

“Big deal, if he draws fast it’s probably not any good,” I sniff.

Sam looks at me like I’m crazy. I walk on out of the salon.

Sidewinder is waiting for me in the street. “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us,” he says.

I scoff. “Dude, there’s…seventeen…eighteen…at least twenty-one buildings in this town. There’s plenty of room.” Before he can say anything I realize something. “Oh it says SALOON! That makes so much more sense.” I chuckle.

Sidewinder blinks. “I cain’t wait to kill you boy.”

“Hey, whoa, who said anything about killing? I thought we were having a doodling contest.”

By now a small crowd has gathered on the walkways.

“You ain’t even got a gun do ya?”

“Nope, but I’m curious: do you even have a permit for that thing?”

Sidewinder laughs. “Permit. I ain’t dishonorable though. You can borrow any old gun from any one of these fellers. I’ll return it to him after I put a bullet tween yer eyes.”

“Anyone?” I ask, surveying the crowd.

“Did I stutter, Crazy Boots?”

“Crazy boots is such a terrible insult.” I wave him off before he can reply, I’m getting pretty annoyed by this guy. “Alright, I’ve decided.” I point at him. “I want your gun.”

Sidewinder frowns. “You cain’t have my gun.”

“You said I could borrow anyone’s gun, didn’t you.” I raise my voice. “And I thought you said you ain’t dishonorable. Pfffft!”

“He’s gotta point, Sidewinder,” the sheriff says.

Sidewinder pulls out his pistol and stalks over to me. He hands it to me butt first. Wow it’s heavy. “Alright, now ya gotta let me borrow a gun right?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

He smiles wickedly. “Alright, then I want your gun.”

Augh, I can’t believe he’s tricked me. “Well, that means I get to–”

“Are ya’ll gonna get on with it or not?” someone in the crowd hollers.

“Hey! Who said that!” I yell back. “We’re sorting this out like gentlemen.” I smile at Sidewinder. “Where does that guy get off, am I right?”

“That’s it,” Sidewinder growls and cocks his gun. “Say aydios boy.”

“Now hang on Cyrus,” the sheriff warns. “I’ll take with duelin’ but if ya shoot an unarmed man, that’s murder.” He cocks his own gun. “I don’t takes with murder.”

“Wow all you cowboys are CUH-RAZY,” I shout.

Suddenly, there’s a crash as the side of a building erupts. A minotaur has kool-aid manned his way into the street. “Who said that!” He demands. “Who used the c-word.”

This feller means business. I’m not tussling with that. “He did!” I point at Sidewinder.

The minotaur snorts and a cloud of steam shoots from his nostrils. “Take it back, Sidewinder.”

The gunslinger glares at the Minotaur and I thank God for Oppositional Defiant Disorder. “Make me,” he growls and raises his chin defiantly. “Cow. Boy.”

The minotaur bellows like a bull and pumps his shotgun before shouldering and sighting it. A buzzard begins circling overhead.

I make eye contact with a guy in all black. He’s standing outside a building with a sign that reads “Tombstone Tom’s Undertaking: You Shoot Em, We Suit Em!” His eyes gleam avariciously. He covers his mouth and hollers “Shooooot out!”

“Yeee haw!” several men yell before drawing weapons.

“Dag nabbit,” the Sheriff says and he shoots his rifle into the sky to get everyone’s attention. Instead, several of the cowboys start shooting their guns in the air too.

Uh oh. I need to get the H-E-double-hockey sticks outta here. I dash behind a water trough to hide before the real gunfight breaks out.

A jet black horse is drinking calmly. I laugh. “What a great horse.” Its huge eye just stares at me. “Too bad you can’t talk like Mister Ed. Do you know Mister Ed? That episode where he plays baseball is insane. When Ed slides into home? Gets me every time.” The horse just keeps drinking.

I hazard a peek. It’s utter chaos. Two guys are shooting pistols at each other’s feet, laughing, and yelling “no you dance!” A guy on top of a nearby building grunts, clutches his chest and tumbles over the railing. Sidewinder is hiding behind a barrel and taking potshots while the minotaur loads a fresh shell into his shotgun. Tombstone Tom is rubbing his hands together gleefully. The guy who tumbled off the building stands up and looks at everyone with disappointment before climbing back up on the building.

I crawl over to the sheriff. “Aren’t you gonna stop this?”

He shakes his head. “Best to just let ‘em sort it out and I’ll handle things when the dust settles.” He notices I was paying more attention to the ground near his feet. “Go ahead,” he sighs. “It’s a bit after-the-fact now, but I can see ya gotta do it.”

I pick up the tumbleweed near his feet and roll it out into the street. “Hee hee hee!” I cackle as it bounces across the thoroughfare. As it skips over the sandy ground, Sidewinder goes to reposition himself but trips on the tumbleweed. His gun goes off and shoots himself right in in the butt.

“Haha you got shot in the butt! Look everyone! Buttwinder lost!” The gunfight stops and everyone laughs.

“That ain’t a good joke,” Buttwinder moans.

“Yes it is because everyone laughed,” I say proudly. “There’s always a bigger bully, Buttwinder.” I go to high-five the minotaur but he just glares at me. “Cmon that was good,” I say.

The minotaur’s nostrils flare. “Yeah it was, actually.” He returns the high five and it actually really hurts. I keep a straight face but a tear does leak down my cheek.

“All right everyone, we’ve had a rootin tootin good time, but somebody ought to call the doctor for Buttwinder here.”

The Minotaur grins. “That would be me.”

I chuckle. “Ah well. Good luck with that, Buttwinder.” The evil cowboy glares at me but he’s beaten so I don’t care. I swipe the hat off his head. It’s a pretty great hat actually. I assume it looks great on me. “Hey Sam? Do you serve Sarsaparilla?”

---

I’m sweaty and heave out a lusty sigh. “Penelope! That was incredible.”

“Aw, sugar, I bet you say that to all the girls,” she stretches and fans herself.

“No way, Penny. You’re the best I’ve ever had. That was six in a row!”

She blushes shyly. “Beginner’s luck,” she muses.

“I’m really glad Mr. Malcolm had a box of Pokemon cards. I think Magic wouldn’t have been as fun as this. Your grass electric strategy is really good.” I grin at her. “I’m impressed.” I stand and stretch. “Welp, bout time for me to hit the ol’ dusty trail.”

She pouts. “Ya’ll aren’t stayin’ the night?”

“Penny,” I say, “I go wherever the wind takes me.”

She grins at me cutely. “I cain’t tell if you are the sweetest or the stupidest boy I ever met.”

“Women are always saying that to me,” I sigh.

“Excuse me?” she says back.

I grab the cool cowboy hat I stole from Buttwinder from her bedpost. “Frankly my dear, I just don’t give a damn,” I say while I turn away and don the hat. God that was so awesome. I want to turn around and see her face, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. “I’m so much better than Orpheus,” I whisper as I stride down the stairs. I tip my hat to Sam. I wish I was wearing spurs so I’d make a cool sound as I head out of the saloon. Can’t win ‘em all.

“Ya’ll got a horse?” I say, doing my best Buttwinder impression.

Sam shrugs. “That black one out there’s yours I spose, on account o’ ya beatin’ him earlier.”

“Thank ya kindly,” I say and pa-ting him a quarter. He catches it out of the air. Sam RULES. I stalk out of the saloon, making ching-ching-ching spur noises with my mouth.

I find the cool black horse standing near the trough. “Hey buddy, let’s get on outta here.” It takes me a few tries to get on the saddle, but no ones paying attention. “It’s too bad you can’t talk. I bet you have a lot to say.”

“I can talk,” the horse rumbles.

My eyes go wide. “Then do you want to talk about Mister-”

“Mr. Ed is offensive. I’d rather talk about Bojack,” the horse mutters.

“Alright, deal. But first, ya gotta tell me your name,” I say.

“I ain’t got no name,” he whickers.

“A horse with no name….” I pat his neck. “I’m sure we can come up with something.” We rode through the desert.