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"There's not enough room in this forum for the two of us." FM slammed his emptied whisky glass down on the wooden counter. "Step outside, Grix......"
Grix eyed FM carefully. They'd known each other for a long time, but things had been gettin' a little strained lately."
"What's this about, FM," he demanded, making his way through the packed but hushed saloon and pushing the swinging doors outwards as he stepped onto the dusty ground outside.
"Well," replied FM, pushing open the doors again and following Grix outside into the hot, dry air, "You've bushwhacked one of my topics just one time too many. It's time we had this out. Mano a Mano. Poster to Poster."
Grix paused in his stride to think of a witty retort about FM's last comment, then decided that now was probably not the time.
"So, what's it to be? 10 paces, turn and fire?" asked Grix, making sure his gunbelt was fastened properly.
"You know me better than that, Grix. 30 paces." FM checked his gunbelt. The Smith and Wesson 6-shot revolver hung loosely at his right hip.
They stood back to back under the glare of the midday sun, and started to count.....
1....2....3....
The occupants of the saloon were packing the windows trying to get a glimpse of the showdown outside. This was unheard of. The last shootout in the town of Last Chance Reserve had been quite a time ago, when the Er-no posse had cleaned out the Desperate Dans, but this was different. Two equally matched opponents were about to face off.
Insane Bartender was going even more nuts behind the saloon's counter because he was losing good sales whilst all this was going on.
Outside, the count was at 25.... as FM glanced to his right and saw PB on the roof of the Red Splat Hotel and Boarding House, shotgun at hand. PB nodded with a knowing look. FM nodded back.
The count was 26.... as Grix looked across to the SR Saddlery, where he spied Sniper with his trusty Winchester Rifle. Grix gave a brief nod. Sniper returned it.
27....28...29..
Dust whirled up as both men spun to face each other. The blast of PB's shotgun firing both barrels broke the deafening silence that preceeded it, and a cloud of sand flew up at Grix's feet as the buckshot ploughed into the ground.
Grix drew his gun and took aim, FM was still drawing his because he was left handed and his belt was on the wrong way, Sniper fired his rifle, and there was a sharp report, then a clatter as PB dropped his shotgun and swandived off the roof of the hotel and landed in a horse trough.
FM grappled with his pistol, it had snagged in the holster, and he reminded himself to be more careful where he left his chewing gum.
Grix took pity. (No he didn't). Grix fired his gun. Fortunately, FM and done his research and Grix's eyesight wasn't as good as it should have been, and at 30 paces it was like trying to read a Wanted Poster through a mirage. Grix's first bullet flew out of town faster than a newbie Gameaday winner. He wasn't sure if he had hit FM or not, but then he heard FM pull back the hammer of his Smith and Wesson with a
*click*
Grix eyed FM carefully. They'd known each other for a long time, but things had been gettin' a little strained lately."
"What's this about, FM," he demanded, making his way through the packed but hushed saloon and pushing the swinging doors outwards as he stepped onto the dusty ground outside.
"Well," replied FM, pushing open the doors again and following Grix outside into the hot, dry air, "You've bushwhacked one of my topics just one time too many. It's time we had this out. Mano a Mano. Poster to Poster."
Grix paused in his stride to think of a witty retort about FM's last comment, then decided that now was probably not the time.
"So, what's it to be? 10 paces, turn and fire?" asked Grix, making sure his gunbelt was fastened properly.
"You know me better than that, Grix. 30 paces." FM checked his gunbelt. The Smith and Wesson 6-shot revolver hung loosely at his right hip.
They stood back to back under the glare of the midday sun, and started to count.....
1....2....3....
The occupants of the saloon were packing the windows trying to get a glimpse of the showdown outside. This was unheard of. The last shootout in the town of Last Chance Reserve had been quite a time ago, when the Er-no posse had cleaned out the Desperate Dans, but this was different. Two equally matched opponents were about to face off.
Insane Bartender was going even more nuts behind the saloon's counter because he was losing good sales whilst all this was going on.
Outside, the count was at 25.... as FM glanced to his right and saw PB on the roof of the Red Splat Hotel and Boarding House, shotgun at hand. PB nodded with a knowing look. FM nodded back.
The count was 26.... as Grix looked across to the SR Saddlery, where he spied Sniper with his trusty Winchester Rifle. Grix gave a brief nod. Sniper returned it.
27....28...29..
Dust whirled up as both men spun to face each other. The blast of PB's shotgun firing both barrels broke the deafening silence that preceeded it, and a cloud of sand flew up at Grix's feet as the buckshot ploughed into the ground.
Grix drew his gun and took aim, FM was still drawing his because he was left handed and his belt was on the wrong way, Sniper fired his rifle, and there was a sharp report, then a clatter as PB dropped his shotgun and swandived off the roof of the hotel and landed in a horse trough.
FM grappled with his pistol, it had snagged in the holster, and he reminded himself to be more careful where he left his chewing gum.
Grix took pity. (No he didn't). Grix fired his gun. Fortunately, FM and done his research and Grix's eyesight wasn't as good as it should have been, and at 30 paces it was like trying to read a Wanted Poster through a mirage. Grix's first bullet flew out of town faster than a newbie Gameaday winner. He wasn't sure if he had hit FM or not, but then he heard FM pull back the hammer of his Smith and Wesson with a
*click*
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A smile crossed Dringo's face
he yet again briefly appear and dissapear as if he was never there...
he yet again briefly appear and dissapear as if he was never there...
FantasyMeister bit the end off his cigar... and handed one to Grix. He did also, and lit up.
"I wonder where Ant is..." Grix said through his teeth... "I didn't think that would happen..."
"What do you mean?" Asked FantasyMeister...
"Err... nothing."
Grix played with the bright golden sand with his fingers... still thinking about that vision...
Three men as one? The fighter... the dreamer, and what else?... The watcher...
The only person he knew, that was a dreamer, was himself... always thinking to himself...
The watcher? God knows. Whoever he is, he's probably watching from a distance.
The fighter?... All the people around here were fighters... never wanting to be last... left behind.
Instead of getting more pieces for the puzzle... he was just making the puzzle bigger... more complicated.
FantasyMeister looked out from under the tree. Just pure golden sand... and the sky was clear, and blue.
"Alright now?" Asked FM.
"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better now... let's get going again."
"I wonder where Ant is..." Grix said through his teeth... "I didn't think that would happen..."
"What do you mean?" Asked FantasyMeister...
"Err... nothing."
Grix played with the bright golden sand with his fingers... still thinking about that vision...
Three men as one? The fighter... the dreamer, and what else?... The watcher...
The only person he knew, that was a dreamer, was himself... always thinking to himself...
The watcher? God knows. Whoever he is, he's probably watching from a distance.
The fighter?... All the people around here were fighters... never wanting to be last... left behind.
Instead of getting more pieces for the puzzle... he was just making the puzzle bigger... more complicated.
FantasyMeister looked out from under the tree. Just pure golden sand... and the sky was clear, and blue.
"Alright now?" Asked FM.
"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better now... let's get going again."
Many years later, inventors were discussing possible layouts for typewriter keys.
"Its going to cost us a fortune to do accurate research on this, it's so complicated!"
"Sod it then, we'll just just use the name of that indian god, Qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm"
"Sounds good to me"
So now you know how the layout of the keyboard came to be.
-------------------------
Grix and FM continued their generally directionless strolling through the rocky desert. The unrelenting furnace of a sun shone down on their backs. All of a sudden, Grix felt a sharp pain in his head, his knees buckled under him, and his mind filled with images.
Falling, through a black void. Only it was more brown than black, and it wasn't a void either, there were....shapes. He couldn't quite make them out. It was like trying to focus on an object with your peripheral vision. Still...it was definitely a black void.
Then, a field. A cliche. A bright red poppy field on a beautiful summer morning. There were three figures in the middle of it, or was it just one figure? In the distance, the field was changing. The poppies were turning brown at an alarming rate, as if marking the progress of some unseen presence. The wave of corruption gradually slowed to a halt as it reached the three, as if waiting their response. There was a pause. Then they all stepped forward as one, and -
The vision ended, and Grix heard a voice.
"The dreamer, the fighter and the watcher."
Then another voice.
"Grix! Grix! Are you okay?" FM's panicky voice finally filtered through to Grix's consciousness
Grix stood up, and turned to face FM
"Yeah, I'm fine..."
"What happened?"
"Oh.....nothing. I guess the sun's getting to me. Let's find some shade."
"Its going to cost us a fortune to do accurate research on this, it's so complicated!"
"Sod it then, we'll just just use the name of that indian god, Qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm"
"Sounds good to me"
So now you know how the layout of the keyboard came to be.
-------------------------
Grix and FM continued their generally directionless strolling through the rocky desert. The unrelenting furnace of a sun shone down on their backs. All of a sudden, Grix felt a sharp pain in his head, his knees buckled under him, and his mind filled with images.
Falling, through a black void. Only it was more brown than black, and it wasn't a void either, there were....shapes. He couldn't quite make them out. It was like trying to focus on an object with your peripheral vision. Still...it was definitely a black void.
Then, a field. A cliche. A bright red poppy field on a beautiful summer morning. There were three figures in the middle of it, or was it just one figure? In the distance, the field was changing. The poppies were turning brown at an alarming rate, as if marking the progress of some unseen presence. The wave of corruption gradually slowed to a halt as it reached the three, as if waiting their response. There was a pause. Then they all stepped forward as one, and -
The vision ended, and Grix heard a voice.
"The dreamer, the fighter and the watcher."
Then another voice.
"Grix! Grix! Are you okay?" FM's panicky voice finally filtered through to Grix's consciousness
Grix stood up, and turned to face FM
"Yeah, I'm fine..."
"What happened?"
"Oh.....nothing. I guess the sun's getting to me. Let's find some shade."
"But....I was an Ant. I'm not... this 'Coolio Santos' guy!!" Ant protested, still getting used to his human body.
"Ahh, but you were. You were Brazilian, and your name was Coolio Santos. You were a wealthy man, who ran many sugar factories in your home town."
"So....I still loved sugar back then???"
"Oh yes," replied the old Indian, "Your teeth were beggining to fall out, but we replaced them with nice, new fresh ones, as you can see."
"How did you turn me into a human again??" Ant asked, perplexed at the whole situation.
The old Indian sat down on what looked like a couch, but it was shaped in such a way, that sitting down on it must of been torture on the Indians' legs.
"Well, many years ago, our Indian scientists, created a potion-"
"Err....just a quick question. Does sitting on that... 'couch', hurt you??" Ant asked a little timidly.
"Why of course. It's our form of punishment and sacrifice to our God, Qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm." The Indian replied.
Ant sat up, and looked over his body. He looked under the underpants he was wearing, "Blimey...I've got a biggun," he said to himself.
"So, as I was saying. The potion was created, and it could turn any animal who used to be human, back into a human."
Ant stood up, walked up to the Indian, and said, "Can I have a go in that chair??"
"Well....I suppose you can."
Ant sat in the not-able-to-describe-what-shape-it-was Chair.
His legs hurt a lot, and his back jolted as a sharp pain bolted through it.
Ant stood up, "So.....who turned me into an Ant??"
"That is what you must find out."
"How???"
"It is your destiny to help FantasyMeister and Grix in their robbery group, and if you do..."
"What??" Ant asked, anxious.
"You will find out who sentenced you, to the life of an Ant."
"Oh," Ant said disappointed, "I thought there would be more to it."
"Well, you get all the money as well."
"Great!!"
Ant, or Coolio Santos, went to walk out the door.
"Oh, and one more thing." The Indian said.
Ant turned, "What?"
"Grix Thraves. He is special. Look after him, yet be careful of him at the same time."
Ant was puzzled, but couldn't care. He was human!!
"K," was his reply.
"Ahh, but you were. You were Brazilian, and your name was Coolio Santos. You were a wealthy man, who ran many sugar factories in your home town."
"So....I still loved sugar back then???"
"Oh yes," replied the old Indian, "Your teeth were beggining to fall out, but we replaced them with nice, new fresh ones, as you can see."
"How did you turn me into a human again??" Ant asked, perplexed at the whole situation.
The old Indian sat down on what looked like a couch, but it was shaped in such a way, that sitting down on it must of been torture on the Indians' legs.
"Well, many years ago, our Indian scientists, created a potion-"
"Err....just a quick question. Does sitting on that... 'couch', hurt you??" Ant asked a little timidly.
"Why of course. It's our form of punishment and sacrifice to our God, Qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm." The Indian replied.
Ant sat up, and looked over his body. He looked under the underpants he was wearing, "Blimey...I've got a biggun," he said to himself.
"So, as I was saying. The potion was created, and it could turn any animal who used to be human, back into a human."
Ant stood up, walked up to the Indian, and said, "Can I have a go in that chair??"
"Well....I suppose you can."
Ant sat in the not-able-to-describe-what-shape-it-was Chair.
His legs hurt a lot, and his back jolted as a sharp pain bolted through it.
Ant stood up, "So.....who turned me into an Ant??"
"That is what you must find out."
"How???"
"It is your destiny to help FantasyMeister and Grix in their robbery group, and if you do..."
"What??" Ant asked, anxious.
"You will find out who sentenced you, to the life of an Ant."
"Oh," Ant said disappointed, "I thought there would be more to it."
"Well, you get all the money as well."
"Great!!"
Ant, or Coolio Santos, went to walk out the door.
"Oh, and one more thing." The Indian said.
Ant turned, "What?"
"Grix Thraves. He is special. Look after him, yet be careful of him at the same time."
Ant was puzzled, but couldn't care. He was human!!
"K," was his reply.
Grix and FM continued to travel with Ant and the ants, when they saw a dust cloud ahead of them.
"Looks to me to be a posse on horseback" Said FM, putting his ear to the ground. "No wait, I can hear something, just give me a moment..."
"Um, FM" Said Grix.
"Shhh, I'm a listening!" Came the reply.
"Well they be injuns!" Said Grix, a little worried.
"How the hell can you hear that without your ear to the ground?" Asked a perplexed FM.
"They're 3 feet in front of us!" Said Grix, looking up at the Red Indians.
_____________________
"So why do you think they insisted on taking Ant?" Asked FM, now on horseback.
"I really don't know, but we still got our gold, and we've got to get a move on." Replied Grix, and they rode into the distance.
_____________________
Ant was in a teepee, trapped under a glass. The air unpleasant, and he was hungry for sugar.
Moments later a bare-chested young indian entered, and lifted the glass.
"Sugar. Good stuff. Eat now" She said, before dropping a few grains in front of Ant, then replacing the glass.
Ant ate keenly, but soon was feeling rather queezy.
__________________
Ant woke and felt very different. He was no longer under a glass, but on a bed, and he filled it.
He looked down at his body, somehow he had become human!
"Ah! Coolio Santos, you have awoken" Said a rather old looking indian. "Let me tell you of your destiny."
"Looks to me to be a posse on horseback" Said FM, putting his ear to the ground. "No wait, I can hear something, just give me a moment..."
"Um, FM" Said Grix.
"Shhh, I'm a listening!" Came the reply.
"Well they be injuns!" Said Grix, a little worried.
"How the hell can you hear that without your ear to the ground?" Asked a perplexed FM.
"They're 3 feet in front of us!" Said Grix, looking up at the Red Indians.
_____________________
"So why do you think they insisted on taking Ant?" Asked FM, now on horseback.
"I really don't know, but we still got our gold, and we've got to get a move on." Replied Grix, and they rode into the distance.
_____________________
Ant was in a teepee, trapped under a glass. The air unpleasant, and he was hungry for sugar.
Moments later a bare-chested young indian entered, and lifted the glass.
"Sugar. Good stuff. Eat now" She said, before dropping a few grains in front of Ant, then replacing the glass.
Ant ate keenly, but soon was feeling rather queezy.
__________________
Ant woke and felt very different. He was no longer under a glass, but on a bed, and he filled it.
He looked down at his body, somehow he had become human!
"Ah! Coolio Santos, you have awoken" Said a rather old looking indian. "Let me tell you of your destiny."
why the hell was I shot?
I was the posse leader at some point, and before that something else, then today a bar owner and now dead!
I was the posse leader at some point, and before that something else, then today a bar owner and now dead!
Then er-no remembered he wasn't wearing a vest... and decided to die again...
(You're going to have to trust us on this er-no. Sorry. Only you know why you were shot... and it's best that it remains with you only.)
(You're going to have to trust us on this er-no. Sorry. Only you know why you were shot... and it's best that it remains with you only.)
er-no picked himself up from the counter, he had taken a nasty hit which had floored him, but luckily wearing his iron plate around his chest again it had saved his life.
He couldn't remember what it was he saw, but he knew he had to find GRIX before the stranger did, he didn't bother to close the bar and just went on his way, holding his chest and muttering swear words.
He couldn't remember what it was he saw, but he knew he had to find GRIX before the stranger did, he didn't bother to close the bar and just went on his way, holding his chest and muttering swear words.
The Dark man stared at the fire again. 'Now for some small changes' he said to the wind. He waved his hand and a wisp of sand caught up in the storm and started to take shape. It circled around and became a small tornado, flying towards the nearby town as it did so.
As the dusty tornado hit the town it dispersed into small grains again, taking them to every house and every building in the town. The sheriff, dusting off his saddle bags ready to go on another day's ride through the town, coughed as he breathed in some of the dust.
"Damn dust storms." He said as he mounted the saddle. One day his town would have proper roads and the houses would be brick, not wooden shacks in the middle of nowhere. He'd see to that. he'd done a pretty good job of running this town so far and wasn't going to let a couple of theives get away with bringing it down. It was up to him to bring the spirit of the townsfolk back and take his rightful place as their leader again. Without a mayor, the town had always looked towards their sheriff as their guider and law protector. He needed more respect though, especially these days. Those damn kids had little respect for him and he had some grand plans for them to learn some. Once they all knew their place they would be easy to mould and then he could build this town up to be respectable. Damn sure he would.
The sheriff rode over to the saloon, at least there was one place that seemed to have benefitted from the recent scare. He could quite easily get a drink without all those staring faces. So what if he had a few drinks each day? It wasn't as if he overdid it. He knew what those old ladies on the corner said, well, they could talk until the sun set for all he cared, drink made him stronger and made his judgement clearer. He entered the bar and, seeing how empty the saloon was, sat down and ordered a large drink.
As the dusty tornado hit the town it dispersed into small grains again, taking them to every house and every building in the town. The sheriff, dusting off his saddle bags ready to go on another day's ride through the town, coughed as he breathed in some of the dust.
"Damn dust storms." He said as he mounted the saddle. One day his town would have proper roads and the houses would be brick, not wooden shacks in the middle of nowhere. He'd see to that. he'd done a pretty good job of running this town so far and wasn't going to let a couple of theives get away with bringing it down. It was up to him to bring the spirit of the townsfolk back and take his rightful place as their leader again. Without a mayor, the town had always looked towards their sheriff as their guider and law protector. He needed more respect though, especially these days. Those damn kids had little respect for him and he had some grand plans for them to learn some. Once they all knew their place they would be easy to mould and then he could build this town up to be respectable. Damn sure he would.
The sheriff rode over to the saloon, at least there was one place that seemed to have benefitted from the recent scare. He could quite easily get a drink without all those staring faces. So what if he had a few drinks each day? It wasn't as if he overdid it. He knew what those old ladies on the corner said, well, they could talk until the sun set for all he cared, drink made him stronger and made his judgement clearer. He entered the bar and, seeing how empty the saloon was, sat down and ordered a large drink.
Grix woke up again... wrote down what he remembered, and then saw FantasyMeister.
He was sitting on a rock, reading the note that the dead man was holding... which reminded him, he had to get rid of it.
"I wonder why he just put three dots after writing finishing... it would have made more sense to actually write the names."
Ant was awake too. "Perhaps he died while writing it."
"Then why the hell would he bother putting three damn dots!"
It really was going to be one of those days... Grix got up, and tried to change the subject before FM got really peeved with Ant.
"How are we going to get out of here?"
The question shocked everyone... no-one had bothered to think of that.
They could try and hover back down again... but it would be too hard...
"I know..." Said Grix... looking at the floor. He got up, and went to get something...
"If we tie all the money together, and throw it down, then we should be able to float to the bottom easier!" Grix returned with some string... he began tieing the bags together...
Ant interrupted Grix. "Yeah... but..."
"All you have to do, Ant, is go down the wall like you came up! Why didn't we think of this before!"
Ant spoke again. "But it would be much safer to..."
"Shush Ant. The hover hoss still has quite a lot of power left and..."
Grix looked at the fire. It was out.
"Why is the fire out?" Grix asked.
"It went out eariler this morning." FM answered.
"So why is it so light in here?" Grix asked.
"Because we tunneled our way out. The passage is behind you." Ant answered.
"Oh..." Grix looked back at the bags.
FM and Grix got on the hoss... and set off at five miles per hour, but got soon fed up with that, and got the Ant's, capable of carrying many times their own body weight, to give them a ride...
He was sitting on a rock, reading the note that the dead man was holding... which reminded him, he had to get rid of it.
"I wonder why he just put three dots after writing finishing... it would have made more sense to actually write the names."
Ant was awake too. "Perhaps he died while writing it."
"Then why the hell would he bother putting three damn dots!"
It really was going to be one of those days... Grix got up, and tried to change the subject before FM got really peeved with Ant.
"How are we going to get out of here?"
The question shocked everyone... no-one had bothered to think of that.
They could try and hover back down again... but it would be too hard...
"I know..." Said Grix... looking at the floor. He got up, and went to get something...
"If we tie all the money together, and throw it down, then we should be able to float to the bottom easier!" Grix returned with some string... he began tieing the bags together...
Ant interrupted Grix. "Yeah... but..."
"All you have to do, Ant, is go down the wall like you came up! Why didn't we think of this before!"
Ant spoke again. "But it would be much safer to..."
"Shush Ant. The hover hoss still has quite a lot of power left and..."
Grix looked at the fire. It was out.
"Why is the fire out?" Grix asked.
"It went out eariler this morning." FM answered.
"So why is it so light in here?" Grix asked.
"Because we tunneled our way out. The passage is behind you." Ant answered.
"Oh..." Grix looked back at the bags.
FM and Grix got on the hoss... and set off at five miles per hour, but got soon fed up with that, and got the Ant's, capable of carrying many times their own body weight, to give them a ride...
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