A Slurpee Send-off

Just when it looked like Buffalo Brandon and his posse had a firm grip on the situation, the notorious Gang Bang Gang sprang from wreckage of the stage coach. Wielding pistols the gang surveyed BB and his posse, they could clearly see they were outnumbered, but the gang cared not, for they were a fearless group of hardened outlaws. "Looksth like the oddsth justh eventh outh a bit ey' Buthalo, he he he he he", chuckles Ropesmoker in his painfully high pitched, crazy miner, lisp filled voice. BB was a man of few words and his response was swift and painful to Ropesmoker. Removing one of his Ivory handled Colts with lightning fast precision BB twists it in his hand grabbing the barrel and clubs Ropesmoker in his unusually large forehead with the butt of the gun. Ropesmoker buckles to the ground unconscious and twitching with blood running from his ears. "Noooooo", yells Mudslide as he falls to his knees and starts stroking the forehead of Ropesmokers lifeless body. "Let that be a lesson to the rest of you shitbags, this is what happens when you park in a senior citizen only zone at Wal-Mart". "Now get on your way, and don't let me see you kids loitering around the front of the 7-eleven later either", BB says.
BB remained on guard with both pistols drawn while the tension cleared. Mudslide had a good cry while two of the gang bang gang carefully laid Ropesmokers body over one of the coaches team of nags as the others unhitched the rest. Mudslide gathered himself, and rose to his feet looking into BB's eyes and in his stone cold raspy voice says, "You won't get away with this, this won't be the last you see of me and my boys, you can believe that. We'll be coming for you as soon as we give Steven a proper burial and root beer flavored slurpee send off". He yells Back at BB as they mount up, "And don't you think for a minute We'll ever forget you used to ride with us." Then turns and rides at a full gallop into the distance.

Johnny had watched intently as all of this unfolded in the distance as he was safely perched in the tree top eating popcorn, smoking cigs and drinking Schlitz. Thinking it would be neighborly to introduce himself to the man, the myth, the legend Buffalo Brandon, he snuffs out his smoke, shotguns his last beer, shimmies down the tree and makes his way towards the group. Johnny cautiously made his way from the stand of trees towards where he had last seen the group, as he came upon the clearing he noticed they were no longer there. Johnny could sense something wasn't right, the wind had shifted slightly to the west and he caught a the faint odor of barbasol shaving cream, cocoa butter, fish and chips and oatmeal. His earlier aerial survey, had shown him that the only place the ganja could surface was on the west side of the island. Realizing Buffalo Brandon and his posse must certainly be on the move to meet the Ganja crew Johnny tightens the laces on his roos and strikes out at a full sprint for the other side of the island. EP

THE GANG BANG GANG

Wholly Balls

Amazed, Johnny perched himself on a treetop and gazed at the unfolding scene through his monocular. "Wholly Balls" said LJ to himself as he chased the pink chalky medicine down with a shot of Petrone from his bota-bag. Johnny found a nice shady branch to sit on, rolled a smoke, cracked open a schlitz, and watched.

"Get back here you murdering bastard! Yaw Tony!" yelled Brandon in a masculine tone with an obvious homo twinge. A full 50 yards out front, atop a stagecoach driven by sorrel colored nags, rode Buffalo Brandon's quarry and notorious train robbers Mudslide Mark and his toothless sidekick Steven Ropesmoker. LJ chuckled as he watched Ropesmoker take pot-shots at Brandon's posse with a winchester. "Giddiyup Tony!" LJ heard as Buffalo Brandon jumped out of his stirrups and stood straight up in the saddle with his arms outreached like an airplane. Then holding the reins in his teeth Brandon took careful aim with his Henry rifle and fired once. The lead nag folded causing the other horses to founder sending the coach tumbling in a violent crash. When the dust settled, the bad men stood 10 feet apart, hands hovering over iron, ready to make a stand. Tony bowed his head, dropped to one knee, and Brandon slid forward, down the back of his neck onto the beach (his trademark dismount) and approached the men. Brandon's stirling silver spurs jingled softly as his bright red boots adorned with the ace of spades widened well past shoulder width into his preferred fighting stance. Brandon clenched his fists inside custom deerskin tasseled gloves and cracked his neck. "Where in the hell did ya get that shirt" sneered Polesmoker. "How a person dresses is no-one's business but his or her own" replied Brandon "Throw down your guns, nice and easy like or I'll kill you where you stand".

Meanwhile: Aboard the Ozone Lair, Bill and Oprah went over details of her horrible master-plan and discussed the preparedness of her T-2000 Terminator Robots. Afterwards they masterbated and ate each others asses, then snorted a tube of airplane glue off the shiny spaceship floor. JC

Enter Buffalo Brandon

Tiny bits of feathers began to tear away from LJ's wings as he approached the sound barrier during his descent towards the Ganja. Johnny began to lose track of the reflection from Magnums oily chest as he and the Ganja slipped beneath the waters surface. As Johnny approached 1,000 feet of the deck he noticed a sparkle, something metallic casting a new reflection. Johnny bent his knees, spread his arms, arched his body and came to a sudden stop in mid air and began to hover. Johnny reached into a satchel crafted from a camel intestine and retrieved a medieval monocular and gazed down at the reflective object. As Johnny peered at the object he could not believe his eyes! He had listened to old warriors speak of the legend and was amazed at what was riding his way. Johnny could make out a flag that was held in the right hand of a horse-mounted rider as it flapped in the wind like an angry cannon ball. The words were hard to read at this altitude, but there was no mistaking the way the man carried himself in his saddle! Johnny felt a lump in his thought as he pondered the reasoning of such a legend riding his way across this tropical island. Johnny was starring directly in the steely eyes of Buffalo Brandon on his thunder-hoofed mustang Tony. Buffalo Brandon had on a beautiful pair hairy white chaps fashioned from an albino buffalo. Two ivory handled, nickel plaited navy colt six shooters were resting in a handcrafted rig adorned with mexican conchos. Tied into its scabbard with a piece of rawhide Johnny made out the walnut stock of a lever action Henry rifle with several notches carefully carved away. The huge ten-gallon hat was the sure giveaway at this point. Even though the brim was turned up from the wind, Johnny could see the hatband fashioned from peacock feathers with a turquoise pendant in the center with hand-etched words that matched the words on the flag that were now very clear… “Buffalo Brandon” was skillfully stitched in large black letters on a field of baby blue of the now bigger then life flag to match Buffalo Brandon’s perfectly pressed shirt. Johnny could tell Tony was in lather and was being ridden hard! In a perfect “V” formation behind Buffalo Brandon and Tony rode nine additional horsemen with a less flashy, but matching ensemble. Johnny watched the men get closer as he reached into his med kit for some tums and a couple of pink heart shaped Pepto Bismal pills in a foil punch-out container and pondered his next move. DT