Posted by Miss Marcia on May 28, 2001 at 13:15:05:
In Reply to: Sortin' Things Out at Miss Marcia's posted by She Who Tracks La Longue Carabine on May 28, 2001 at 11:10:50:
: There seems to be some serious differences of opinion represented among the gathered company. Ah's me, such is the way of the world. I'll just reach over the table and grab hold of this sizeable fryin' pan that Miss Marcia served the squirrel fritters in, for it may serve as a weapon to resolve the present confrontations.
: Now, this Mister Peachpit who came tumblin' down the chimney has a death grip on the Sheriff and is about to lift his scalp with that bloody tomahawk 'cause the Sheriff has not paid for the pig he got. It would be a cruel act, but I can't say as it would go against the purpose of one who follows the Indian ways, seein' as it is their gift to revenge slights to their honesty. Nonetheless, this Peachpit appears to be of white blood, although it is not without reason to assume he may have a cross of blood somewhere in his past.
: Now then, Miss Twiggy appears to have lost her maidenly temper at the Red Haired Lass over the fact that they both have tender feelin's toward Mister Grapeshot Ramrod. It is sad when gentle females come to blows over a gentleman's attentions, but again, it is the way of the gentle sex, and it is not for such as I to gainsay the right of one over the other in this matter. Howsever, when blood begins to flow over their beauteous tresses and soft white arms, it seems only proper that someone should step in and stay the blows.
: Then there's Miss Katie, aweepin' in the chimney corner, feelin' spurned after arrivin' in the middle of the fight and not bein' greeted by nary a soul, when she's such a sociable and gentle lady and wants only to wish everyone well and pass the time of day in agreeable company.
: Miss Marcia is showin' signs of going hysterical, as she often does, being a lady of gentle breeding and habits, no less than Miss Katie, and it is unconscionable to leave her screamin' and blushin' and palin' without informin' her that Miss Twiggy is not a rival for the affections of Sheriff Twigg, who may or may not survive the attack of Mister Peachpit.
: It behooves me as a gal without a cross to settle this matter in a way that will give honor to the present company, and since it is my gift to have a strong arm and a sharp eye, it appears it is left to me to use the we'pon available to me, that bein' this iron skillet which has come to hand by the will of One Who Watches Over All. Ah's me, it is a sad duty to wreak damage on the skull of a fellow bein', but someone's got to do it. HOY THERE, MISTER PEACHPIT!
: WHANG!!
: Thud.
: SPLOP!!
: Yes, Hector, ye can lick up what's left o' the squirrel fritters.
: She Who Tracks La Longue Carabine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Stunned silence falls over the room!*
OHMIGOODNESS, SHE! You have rendered Peachpit Gumrot completely unconscious! I do declare! But I suppose if someone has to get knocked out, it's better that it be a body who spends many a day in a stupor, anyway. He & the rest of the Gumrots are kinda used to it, like, bein' as they consume SEW much of that cheap, go-blind wine of theirs.
Now, I'm feeling a bit calmer, and while Mr. Gumrot recovers (thankee, Miss Katie, for puttin' a cool cloth on his sore head), I reckon we should take She's advice & sort this all out. First, let's drag Peachpit off'n the top of the Sheriff, here. Let's see...he don't look any the worse for wear, does he? She, you say I have nothing to worry about where Benton is concerned, and though I have some doubts in my mind, I know you to be honest through and through, so I'm going to assume you are in possession of knowledge that I lack regarding this situation. Benton, Dear, you and I will have a nice, long talk after this mess is all cleared up.
Red, you and Twiggy quit clawin' and bitin' each other, y'all hear? It ain't fittin'! Here's your wench blouse, Red, and Twiggy, here's a bit of raw steak for that shiner you are developin'. Now you girls MUST find a way to settle this touchy situation without resorting to fisticuffs! I'm thinkin' it would be best if you each went home, cleaned yourselves up, and proceeded with the rest of your day as though nothing had happened here. If that Handsome Stranger, Mr. Ramrod, should decide to call on one or the other of you, then the person who does NOT get the call should accept defeat gracefully. After all, you can batter each other to bloody pulps, but that doesn't mean Mr. Ramrod will end up with tender feelings towards either of you. It's possible he WILL, as you're both fetchin' lasses, sartain, but mayhap he has someone else on his mind. Why, he could prefer...umm....OLDER women, if you get my drift! More likely, though, he's the kind who wants to remain footloose and fancy-free. If he can stay that way while livin' in Mohicanland, I say more power to him!
Miss Katie, Dear Soul, surely you know that you are loved by ALL in our community!?! Why, no one would deliberately set about to hurt your feelings, so dry your eyes, now. Hmmm...can't find my hankie right this minute, but here's a bit of cloth torn from someone's clothing during the fray...blow your nose! That's better. I'll fetch you a nice, hot cuppa tea shortly, and you and I will have a little natter.
She Who Tracks, if you'll be so good as to clean up that iron skillet you bopped Mr. Gumrot with, I'll frizzle you up some bacon and eggs shortly, and Hector can have all the leftovers...that's if he's got any room left, after finishin' off the squirrel fritters and chokeberry duff.
Old Crone, you've got a bit of something splattered on your dress, there...no, it'd be best if we don't try to determine just WHAT! Here, let me just scrape it off, and brush you down a bit...whoops! Forgot how frail ye be! Didn't mean to knock you right off your feet like that. Here, have a seat & I'll bring you some tea along with Miss Katie's. Now just calm down about that grandson of yours. Yes, he's stirred up some trouble around here today, sartain...but bein' as how he's such a handsome devil and bein' as how the women-folk of Mohicanland don't have many men to lust after (what with half the male population bein' of the Gnomal variety and the other half bein' already spoken for), you can understand how problems were sure to arise. You can take him on back to your wattle hut, shortly, where I'm sure you'll put him to work gathering up those selfsame wattles and applyin' 'em to the sides of your hut. And truthfully, a mite o' hard work never hurt a young man, yet, plus it will keep him outta mischief for at least two days an' a bit.
As for YOU, Grapeshot Ramrod...you'd best think carefully about toying with the emotions of the loved-starved females in our little community! It's one thing to refuse to be tied down at your tender age...but it's quite another to lead any lady on with promises, hints, persuasion, candy, flowers, and/or outright lies. You'd best make it clear from the start exactly what intentions you have or do NOT have with regard to any sort of relationships with wenches, corset models, seamstresses, librarians, hoo-haa-ettes, and cooks or fuu-uuudge makers, as the case may be. A word to the wise is sufficient!
And Benton, my sweet, adorable Benton...why I'm downright ashamed that I ever doubted your affections, honesty, integrity, or parentage for one moment!! I have always known you to be a man of your word, if not a man of any sort o' rapid ACTION, so I am willing to believe that this was all a most unfortunate misunderstanding! Come sit down here beside me, Dear.
Now...would anybody like a piece of fuu-uuuuuuudge?????????