Jump to content
SASS Wire Forum

Heritage and Reincarnation?


Aunt Jen

Recommended Posts

:) What a great saloon this is.

Yep, a really fun place ain't it? Does it really exist or is it just a figment of our imagination? Man that piano is really in need of some work!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Yep, a really fun place ain't it? Does it really exist or is it just a figment of our imagination? Man that piano is really in need of some work!

 

Better the piano than the piano player... Thinking about the story of the previous owner of Mississippi's shotgun in El Dorado.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The spittoons need to be emptied and the blood spatters need to be cleaned off of the painting of the nekked lady behind the bar.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The spittoons need to be emptied and the blood spatters need to be cleaned off of the painting of the nekked lady behind the bar.

 

 

Lifting my head and looking around.

 

"Don't look at me... Not my spit, not my blood, and not my painting."

 

Returning to contemplate the amber color of the drink in front of me.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Yep, a really fun place ain't it? Does it really exist or is it just a figment of our imagination? Man that piano is really in need of some work!

The real question is...... Has it existed before? :unsure:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Michigan Slim was walking his horse down the street, approaching the Saloon from the East. His worn Confederate uniform hot in afternoon sun, his down at the heel boots stirring dust. As he was tying his horse at the rail at the front of the bar he could here low but clear words from inside. He stood, quietly, listening to the tone, then the substance of the conversation. He loosened his guns in their holsters, knowing that at least a few of the patrons inside were smoking loco weed and might go out of control when the snacks ran out.....................

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Riding in from the West a big tree trunk of a man, sitt'n high in the saddle, stiring the dust as he rides. Wipes the sweat off the back of his sunburned neck with his handkerchief, nudges his 73 tighter down into it's scabbard as he rides up to the saloon. He shifts slightly in his saddle and says, "Hey Slim, Hows the boy?"... But thats a story for another time. Meanwhile back in the saloon...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The boy's jus fine Tree. Thanks fer askin. Got an idea that his services drivin the boo boo wagon gonna be needed here right sudden like..... In the mean time, I'm just gonna wipe the dust from my brand new 73 and then cut the dust an powder smoke outa my throat with some whiskey. You might want ta pull on some taller boots iffin yer gonna walk in that there Saloon though. Getting mighty deep, mighty quick.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Well Slim, As much as I'd like to join ya, I gotta git back out and tend the herd. Maybe I'll get a chance to meander in later tonight.

You have good day now.

Big Tree turned his horse around and headed back out in ta the sun.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The tall stranger glided across the floor apparently intent on the reaching bar as soon as possible. Grabbing a seemingly empty bottle he made motions of downing it and made a great show of putting a suddenly full bottle back on the bar! Then lifting the brim of his hat only slighty and brushing his dusty coat back to reveal a leather bound notebook he uttered" Names Schrodinger...anyone seen a cat?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Slim finally walked into the bar, still listening to the conversations going on around him. One in particular held his interest. It made him think of all his clan that came before. Some he knew well, others just a fleeting memory from long ago. Most from the many stories told in front of the fireplace at the old homestead. All were strong willed, bullheaded folks, and refused to give in to the many hardships of an ocean crossing and the miseries of northern Michigan living. The hardships shared through those tales, and the hardships lived in person had a strong influence on the way that Michigan boy lived his life and strived to do better -to do better for him and his young'uns.

That Schrodinger now. Lookin for a cat? He might be a lookin fer something upstairs............................

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rye writes on a piece of paper and passes it on to the next table. it says," If the universe is expanding, what is it expanding into?"……………. :blink:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rye writes on a piece of paper and passes it on to the next table. it says," If the universe is expanding, what is it expanding into?"……………. :blink:

As the Chinaman who spiked all the drinks with opium slipped out the back

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rye replies."Let's follow the trail of mouse droppings and we'll find the cat!" Although that cat maybe an alien from Zorcono!"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I've heard that Zoroconians are afraid of mice but they can't help themselves and follow them incessantly. When they find them they flee emitting a high pitched sound that only Zoroconian police can hear. The mice are apprehended and slaughtered for use in they're compost piles. :o

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I've heard that Zoroconians are afraid of mice but they can't help themselves and follow them incessantly. When they find them they flee emitting a high pitched sound that only Zoroconian police can hear. The mice are apprehended and slaughtered for use in they're compost piles. :o

 

Well, they can stop. The compost is deep enough.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The next thing, someone's going to say the Earth is round; like a ball. <_<

 

Nope. It's an ellipsoid, or perhaps an oblate spheroid. Definitely not round though.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Schrodinger suspects Rye to be a highly knowledgable Barfonian so to test his skills he leans over and whispers "Did you know that Klingons are deathly afraid of left-hand threaded bolts?"

Barfonian??? I resemble that remark! :P BTW, I didn't know that about Klingons, but did you know that Kardashians are from Uranus??

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Barfonian??? I resemble that remark! :P BTW, I didn't know that about Klingons, but did you know that Kardashians are from Uranus??

 

Hmmm....you passed the test as a legit Barfonian. Okay, about the Kardashians....I might have suspected them as inhabitants of Hemorrhoidal asteroids but never emitted by Uranus.

 

Rye....your'e gonna get us both in trouble!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

 

Hmmm....you passed the test as a legit Barfonian. Okay, about the Kardashians....I might have suspected them as inhabitants of Hemorrhoidal asteroids but never emitted by Uranus.

 

Rye....your'e gonna get us both in trouble!

Uh oh, I suspect Birdgun's gonna get scolded along with us too!! :lol:

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Doctor John Greenlees, M.D., draws his physician's surrey to a stop in front of the Mercantile, or what's left of it.

Quietly regarding the sagging remnants of what used to be an admittedly-second-rate store, he shakes his head and thinks, Must have been some party, then he dismounts, ties off his dapple gelding to a handy hitch rail near the horse trough, and walks diagonally across the street to the Saloon, his big black-leather warbag heavy his his left hand.

The doctor pauses at the bat wing -- there used to be bat wings, until an exiting body removed one from its hinges -- then steps inside, hoists the black bag up onto the bar with a grunt.

There is the suspicious clink of glass from within.

Heads turn and eyes narrow as the neatly-dressed physician opens the bag and begins stacking bottles of something water-clear and not over 30 days old, onto the battered bar.

The barkeep comes over, dry-washing his hands in his dirty apron.

"Usual price, Doc?"

The physician nods.

"Fer medicinal purposes only, I take it."

The doctor nods again.

Money changes hands, the doctor closes the now-empty bag; he touches his hat brim to the ladies, nods to the men, and walks silently out the door.

The bat wing squeaks a little as he pushes it open and it swings back after he's gone.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Uh oh, now we did it! WE have a REAL writer amongst us!! :P

 

 

Linn's books are great BTW!

 

Rye ;)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.