Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Guest Post by Bill- (Prequel 2)...Texas Draw

My friend Bill, who shot the western theme pics of me, is a multi-talented guy. Not only is he a great photographer, but he's a fun and entertaining writer as well. He sent a a ton of pics to me along with this fun exchange he'd written between Saint and Wash, in which Saint gets schooled in a lesson Wash is already wise to.

I told Bill it was great fun for me that someone was writing fanfic of my story...he said it was less about the story and more about the pictures of me dealing poker.

I liked it so much that I got permission from him to post it here. It's close enough to the actual storyline and characters, I figured heck, why not just post it as an actual story post instead of a fanfic? So for the sake of continuity, it takes place on the last run our boys took before story start, which would be about a week before Chapter One.

Anyone else interested in doing a little writing, don't be shy about contacting me. I might even post it if you like, as either fanfic or a guest post.

Oh. And by the way. My three year old is now going around telling everyone I ate penguin poop.

You look like hell.

I wish that was all it was… I’m gonna need an advance on next months pay - two or three dollars….

You got paid just last week!

I’ll pay you back. I work steady and you know it.

What happened?

I ain’t sayin’…..

You will if you're gonna see my money…

I got scalped and I never took my hat off.


Yeah, Texas draw poker.

Don’t you know never to sit down at a game unless it’s with people you know? You’re a damned fool!

Well, I just got educated, that’s all.

How much did this education cost?

I ain’t sayin'….

You will, if you're gonna see my---

OK! OK! - for what the other nights schoolin’ cost, I ought to be a Perfesser or a Doctor, or sumpthin’.


Dammit! - It was a woman what done it to me! How was I to know she could play poker like that?

Sort of dark hair - eyeglasses maybe?

Yeah, how’d you know?

Congratulations - that was "Shotgun Mary" that taught you a lesson. I heard she was back in town.

Well, thank-you for your timely warning. That her real name?

Hell no. Nobody knows her real name. She got that moniker guarding "special" shipments for a freight company in Wichita.

She had to be cheatin’. I got a mind to get my money back.

Don’t do it. The Commanche learned the hard way to leave her alone when she was ridin’ shotgun.

She can’t be that good.

Idiot. Don’t mess with a woman that can scare the Commanche. They even had a special name for her.

What was it?

I ain’t sayin'….. If I told you, I'd have to go to church for a least a month.

How’d a woman get that way?

Well, the story is that she used to have a nice homestead in Missouri, but there’ll be a noose waitin’ for her if she goes back.

What happened?

She got caught hiding runaway slaves and the local bushwhacker gang came by to show her the error of her ways. It got right ugly - She sent three of 'em to the promised land. Mary got out with nothin' but the clothes on her back, a shotgun, and ten rounds of double-O.

I really need that two dollars.

Why now? You can’t spend it till we get back home.

I’m going back to town and buy her a drink.

© 2009 Regina Shelley on behalf of Bill.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Smokin' Chick

As you can see, I've got a profile pic over there that features me playing a round of "poker" while puffing on a big, fat stogie.

My friend Bill came out here and shot a ton of pics of me for this blog. Just cuz. He correctly observed that I was dressed in clothing from the wrong period in the original picture. So he shot a bunch of very fun "Western theme" shots for me, which I will probably be posting here and there. It was a fun day.

I have to tell you about the cigar. Call it a cautionary tale, if you will. Or just laugh at me. Everyone else did.

Unlike some of the boys in the story here, I don't smoke. And I especially don't smoke cigars (I'm talking to you, Saint). Bill suggested we run up to the Wal Mart and pick up a cheap cigar for a prop. So, off went Marie (Bill's wife), my three year old daughter, and myself.

The clerk was all like "you're doing what with it?" She was amused that we asked for the cheapest, fattest smokes she had on hand. We ended up getting short blunts, at the bargain price of five for three bucks. That's economy, right there, folks.

So, not wanting to look like amateurs by having me puffing on a neatly cut, unsmoked stogie, I went outside to light the thing and puff it down a bit. I am the absolute, no contest, most incompentent smoker on the face of God's Green Earth. It was kind of windy out, the thing kept going out because I wasn't puffing it hard enough, the smoke was making my eyes water, the works. I had to really give it a couple really good pulls to get it going.

Let me state for the record, I was a Theater and Speech minor. I have had to puff a few smokes on stage before. Not a big deal. However, cigarettes are not cigars. This sucker was filling my mouth and throat with a horrible, cheap-ass, foul-smelling cloud of toxins that would probably kill the lawn if I exhaled it close enough to the ground. Oh, dear Lord it was bad. I started retching. I cannot believe anyone would ever do that more than once.

I'm on my hands and knees, eyes watering, gagging, and holding a burning cigar in my hand when I hear my three year old step up to me and say to Marie "Why is Mommy sick?" And then I thought to myself "Oh, NO! My child is seeing me smoke! I'm a terrible example!"

Then I had another thought: "No, she's not seeing me smoke. She's seeing me dry heave into the azalea bed while holding a smoke. I'm a GREAT example!"

But it's all cool. Marie told her I was sick from eating penguin poop.

It would explain the smell.