Inside The Bird Cage Saloon

A world-champion young lady capable of 1,000-yard bull’s eyes with a 30-pound rifle

~~~

chapter 15

of

GUN 2013

~~~

     Here we stand, Ted & I, a couple old long hairs.  He is a goofy guitar player and me ~ I am the White House’s second most favorite secret agent.  I don’t know where the first most favorite secret agent might be.  Horseback riding, I guess, with another one of her many beaus.

     Here we stand, he & I, each under his own hat, each under his own wing of the wooden eagle perched above.  We’re all caught by surprise with Ted Newscent’s sudden shift in viewpoint.  This is an epic seismic happening.  What if, what if ~ it’s real?  Mr. Gun Rights backs Mr. Gun Regulation?  He is standing right here next to me ~ and now I note an old style Colt 44 or 45 revolver, a beautiful specimen, stuck down the front of his pants ~ must be an 8,000 dollar piece of equipment thar.

     Here we stand.  I’m looking around ~ such a shiftless man I am ~ part weasel ~ yearning for a knothole in the floor that I can crawl through.  Meanwhile Newscent & Peeintheair eyeball each other ferociously.  I imagine electrical current crackling from one pair of eyeballs to the other.  Maybe I’m not imagining this at all.  Maybe the lightning is actually there between these two men.  A storm is brewing.  I almost expect rain to start pouring down any second right here inside the Bird Cage Saloon.

     Peeintheair thunders, “What stops a bad man with a gun?”

     The loyal choir of over-armed NRA toughs all around their leader drops its jaws & instead of the gang’s raucous reply, to my immediate left I hear a more subdued perhaps more powerful answer, “A good woman with a gun.”

     What?

     She done sneaked in through the front door & is standing to the other side of old horn-dog Rawclyde ~ daughter of a bee-bee gun!  She’s armed to the teeth and then some.  This is downright ridiculous.  How’d I get into this situation?  I’m way out of my league here.  A bunch of NRA loophole-ed morons full of freshly loaded hardware not but ten feet away wanting to splatter yours truly into splats of blood on the floor and walls, Ted “fricking!” Newscent to the right o’ me pulling a Colt 45 outta his trousers, and to the left o’ me ~ we now got camofloughed, armoured yet provocatively revealed, mounted by ten kinds of firearms, one gattling & a cannon of some kind, not to mention a wheel barrow full of ammo & blunderbusses, so loaded down with evil intent that she’s setting up a tripod in front of her to bare some of the weight, my young & dynamic mysterious mystique secret agent partner, Submissivania Whapp!

     Everybody gots their guns drawn.  Except me.  I don’t have a gun.  In my old age I’m just an eunuch.  I’d rather be killed than kill.  And Submissivania’s last tripod nut is tight.  So I figure now’s a good time to lecture all these fine & fancy folks:

     “You know, my fellow Americans, a bunch of citizens with loopholes in their brains, armed to the teeth, isn’t what makes this nation free.  The Bill of Rights, of course, is what makes America free.  The 2nd Amendment of this Bill of Rights advocates a well regulated militia made up of the people & their firearms.  Let’s concentrate for a moment on the phrase ‘a well regulated militia.’  Concentrate real hard.  Okay, get a license to own your guns & register & insure them.  Now you’re real Americans.  And everybody else with guns are illegal & can be legally disarmed.  Wouldn’t it be nice if you were a well regulated militia, my fellow citizens, duly licensed, your guns registered, and insured.  And that’s the other half of the 2nd Amendment that Mr. Peeintheair & you have been ignoring since I don’t know when.”

~

Gun 2013

a

short novel

by

Rawclyde

!

(free read)

~

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GUN 2013 ~ the short novel

crystal

~

Gun 2013:

http://gun2013.yolasite.com/title-page.php

A free read from Rawclyde!

~

Doctor No & Me

dr_no_12_penguin

I read the paperback book when I was in the 9th grade ~ after I saw the movie in the 8th grade…

~

dr-no-from-left-sean-connery-ursula-andress-1962_i-G-67-6715-54KA100Z

I didn’t know who Sean Connery or Ursula Andress were, let alone James Bond, when I first viewed the film…

~

Annex%20-%20Andress,%20Ursula%20(Dr_%20No)_03

I was introduced to Ursula Andress when with about 8 friends at the Fox Theatre.  Doctor No & James Bond introduced us little 8th graders to her as Honey Rider.  And she was larger than life ~ there in 1964!

~

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This scene reminds me of Submissivania Whapp and myself in GUN 2013 ~ a short novel I finished writing recently…

~

007 poster

Ursula Andress & Sean Connery never starred as Submissivania Whapp & yours truly in GUN 2013, but they might as well have…

~

GUN 2013

https://oldtimerchronicle.wordpress.com/2013/07/25/a-short-novel

a secret-agent tale by Rawclyde!

(free read)

~

Who is Submissivania Whapp?

8661858155_3b97670384_z

http://www.tank-girl.com

~~~

Submissivania Whapp is fiction.  As a literary character she’s barely alive ~ but alive never the less.  She’s the heroine in the short novel GUN 2013.  It’s a secret-agent story.

Ms. Whapp’s origins are many.  A pretty stranger that got on the bus.  A crazy friend of mine from the U.S. Army.  A charismatic writer of erotica.  And a quite attractive fashion designer.  Place these 4 real women, and any other woman who walks by, in a box & tie it with a bow, and you got Submissivania Whapp ~ thru mine eyes.  I love her ~ as well as the women on whom she is based ~ be the love shallow, superficial, or just plain simple.  I created her ~ with a little involuntary help from my sweetest of friends.

Of course, the claim is Submissivania Whapp has absolutely nothing to do with anybody real & is pure fiction.  This claim is author’s protective armor & that is all.  But in actuality she is based on a woman I knew & a few others I wish I knew but really don’t.

What happens to her now?  Well, I guess that’s up to me.  Submissivania Whapp is what makes being an author ~ fun.

Rawclyde!

~~~

The story:

https://oldtimerchronicle.wordpress.com/2013/07/25/a-short-novel

~~~

A short novel…

the wooden eagle

GUN 2013

a secret-agent adventure

(concerned with common-sense gun law)

by

Rawclyde

!

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2013)

AR-15

~~~

free read

~~~

Introductions begin here:

https://oldtimerchronicle.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/gun-2013/

The fiction narrative begins here:

https://oldtimerchronicle.wordpress.com/2013/03/07/mysterious-secret-agent-mission

Soon enough to be a website with some concluding arguments

Then maybe an e-book

Mission accomplished…

hr_giger_020

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 23

~~~

I am sitting at Submissivania’s knee.  Her fiery hair is a flow all over my dreams & her firm smooth shoulders.  I am not real sure how this happened.  I am a fortunate old feller.  Hallelujah.

This evening when I returned from the Prescott Public Library to my neat little room at the inn, I found her in a miniskirt, knees up, sitting in my chair.  She had glass in hand, shoes kicked off, her wiggling toes in command.  This is the first time she’s been in here, her room being across the hall, in which I’ve never been.  But other men have been there, I know for sure.  Midnight dalliances over there do not go undetected by this here secret agent, yours truly.

So she was sitting in my chair.  But now I’m in the chair & she’s sitting on the table next to it ~ her toes in my lap.  We’ve just finished watching Peeintheair & the paltry news on TV.  My secret-agent partner points one of her domineering digits at it.  So I click the idiot box off.

“We got our orders last week,” says Submissivania, sipping her wine.

“Nice of you to let me know,” says I, chagrined.  “What are they?”

Her feet tap a titillating fandango for an instant or two.  It’s a lap dance.  She’s killing me.  She’s really killing me.  She even bumps me in the cheek with her knee.  “O wants us to locate & destroy an NRA ammo-dump hidden somewhere in Prescott.”

“Didn’t we do that two months ago?”

“Quite accidentally.  With some help from our friends.  Yes, Raw.”

I’m so distracted by Submissivania’s legs that I kiss her knee.  I can’t help it.  It’s only natural.  It’s so nearby.  This is the most intimate we’ve ever been.  And I am getting a bit delirious.  She even knocks off my new hat.  Then she starts messing around with one of my earlobes ~ pulls it around ’til, like she’s Cleopatra, she gots me kissing her other knee too.

“Mission accomplished,” I sigh.

“I guess,” says Submissivania.  “The NRA has secret ammo-dumps all over the nation, Rawclyde!  The NRA leaders blame the federal government for hoarding bullets when it’s the NRA who is doing the hoarding ~ thus causing a nationwide shortage.  White House secret agents are blowing up NRA ammo-dumps all over the country now.”

“Sounds like insurrection, Submissivania.”  My lips move to the side of her knee, which tilts a little bit.

Pillars loom high, supporting the roof of the temple.  Heaven’s gate is revealed.  There is no veil!

“And there’s no new assignment?” asks I.

“None for now.”

“So you’re going back home?  To LA?”

“Yes.  And you’re coming with me.  I’m moving out of my parent’s house.  You’re going to be my butler.”

“Butler?”

Pillars move.  The subterranean tongue slithers forth.  The stairwell of love quakes.

“Yes, Rawclyde!  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!!!”

Wish Bone

(the end)

~~~

H R Giger artwork:

http://lcart3.narod.ru/image/fantasy/giger/ot/2.htm

~~~

Two months later…

HR-Giger-3

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 22

~~~

At the end of the event, I know what I saw & what I didn’t see inside the burning saloon.  A large wooden eagle & Wayne Peeintheair were in there.  Then they weren’t.  And that’s all I saw.  The rest is smoke & flames.

If the colorfully painted sculpture of the Bald Eagle, 8 to 10-feet tall, transformationed some how into a live entity via a mysterious divine magic ~ if this holy bird picked up Peeintheair in her mighty talons & escaped out the partially burned-away dome in the ceiling of the flaming Bird Cage Saloon ~ if this actually occurred ~ it buffaloes me as much as it buffaloes anybody else.

You, kind & gentle reader, can believe it or not.  It doesn’t matter.  But I know what I saw.  And I know what I believe.

“The son-of-a-gun got carried away by that fricking bird!” bursts forth I to Submissivania while viewing the bellicose NRA spokesman on television a couple months later.  And, alas, I’m wearing my new hat, breaking it in, so to speak.

On the evening news, there’s Wayne Peeintheair saying, “There is nothing President Obama will not do to destroy the 2nd Amendment…”

The gall!  After all we went through Peeintheair is still leading folks astray so that his gun-manufacturing cronies can get filthier & filthier rich.  He’s probably still handing out loaded derringers to unsuspecting children too .  “Well, this isn’t over ~ not by a long shot!” bluster I.

“I like the plastic ear on the side of his head,” calmly comments Submissivania.  “That’s really cute.”

She smiles broadly…

seduction_x

by Rawclyde!

Escape from The Birdcage Saloon

After The Fire Prescott AZ

Photo by Les Stukenberg, The Daily Courier, Prescott AZ, 5/10/2012

~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 21

~~~

What stops

a bad man with a gun

?

Look in the mirror

bury that pistol

my son

~

What stops

a bad man with a gun

?

Here come the

cops

run, man, run

~

What stops

a bad man with a gun

?

Stick out your foot

he’ll fall on his face

like anyone

~

His voice ~ it blows like a hurricane as he sings an epiphanic song.  It vibrates the  chandeliers more so than the spatterings of powder & shot from below.

The birdcage doors, I swear, rattle!  Yet they are only paint on the dome interior.  And the perch that supports the wooden eagle ~ sways amidst the clatter & smoke in the artist’s conception of the bird cathedral, aye, above our lonely heads.

Ca ca ca cahhhhhhh!

The catatonic bodyguards bump & nudge each other back to life, then haul-ass, but one.  This remaining one cajoles Wayne Peeintheair to flee the sputtering flames, but the over-the-edge NRA leader will have none of it ~ pushes his last loyal minion away.

“Save your own bacon.  Don’t worry about mine.  I want to sizzle!” guffaws Peeintheair.  And he continues to two-step around & around in a circle & chortle!

In the blink of a Whiptail Lizard’s eye & the shudder of a Bald Eagle’s wing, the one-eared antihero of American gun-freedom is left all alone in a saloon doomed to collapse any minute ~ alone alone alone but for the White House’s two favorite secret agents, Submissivania Whapp, and yours truly, Rawclyde!

Ain’t we lucky.  We’re still here too.

Submissivania is loaded down with her armaments like a peach tree ripe with summer fruit.  She’s standing behind her cascading wheel-barrow, ready to go.

I make gesture at the back door.  She allows me to grab the wheel-barrow.  We head out.

What are we supposed to do about the abandoned gone-loco NRA leader?  Are we supposed to save him some how?  In reply to these thoughts, the animated ammo below whittles at the floor in a sudden accelerated magnitude.  Peeintheair’s song is drowned out by fierce ammo soprano.  And a whiskey bottle explodes.  It’s a miracle none of us has been hit by a stray bullet.  They’re everywhere!

Clouds of smoke obstruct our view of the whirling nut-cake man as we find an obscure trail and, sweating profusely, push forward ~ zig-zagging around the flames.  Planks are a-crumbling.  Sparks fly!

Under the bullet-shattered exit sign above the rear corridor, I come to a halt.  At the end of the short passageway Submissivania pushes open the backdoor.  She is a sparkling silouette in sunlight.  But I want to take one last look at the blooming inferno behind us.  I’m actually worried about Peeintheair ~ as if he has any chance to survive whatsoever.  I hear no song except that of crackling bullets and flame.  I turn around & peer into the smoke where he is sure to be dancing all by himself in the burning Birdcage Saloon.

The smoke clears for a long enough moment for me to see thru stinging eyes that Peeintheair is not there.  I also see in the dome above, which is partially burned away, that the eagle too is gone.  Did the big bird, once wood, now astral, snatch up Peeintheair and escape through the ruptured dome?  I wipe sweat out of my burning eyes, peer thru the smoke and peer again.  I see flames licking at a pair of empty clodhopper clown shoes.

Another chunk of barroom floor collapses...

chirp chirp

Inside the Bird Cage Saloon VI

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~~~

GUN 2013

Chapter 20

~~~

The double doors are a rattling in the big birdcage above our heads.  The log perch hanging from the arch is swaying.  Giant formidable talons move nervously back n’ forth on the swaying perch.  Of course it’s only my imagination gone beserk.  The bald eagle up there in the dome is a statue made of wood ~ and is still.  Maybe I’m the one having a nervous breakdown.

“Now, baby, now!”

Bang!  Bang!  The slick long-barrel derringer in Wayne Peeintheair’s spastic hand twirls thru the smokey atmosphere of the saloon.  And one of his ears disappears for good measure.  Agent Whapp, to the left o’ me, proves to be an expert marksman!  And nobody else fires a shot ‘cuz she’s so damn scary.  A sullen skull chalked like a mask on her face makes it so.

“So be it!” shouts Ted Newscent, just a guitar player, to the right o’ me.  He covers all of ’em with his 45.  He’s no longer grinning.  His jaw muscles are taunt ~ working overtime ~ as his teeth grind.

The floor is smokin’.  The boys are leavin’.  And the Bird Cage Saloon is burning down.

The bristling cannon-ware of Submissivania (Has she’s grown 5 extra arms aiming all this stuff?) offers encouragement for all AR-15 conglomerates to fold-up and depart.  And so they do.  Some of these tough guys dance a little bit as they seek an exit, for the bullets fling & sing up outta the crackling ammo dump (I presume it’s a secret NRA ammo dump) in the cellar below.

Peeintheair’s four bodyguards have become statues.  “Why don’t you guys move!” bellows my favorite old rock n’ roll star turned Obamasiah deacon.  He waves the barrel of his Colt toward the door.  Submissivania shoots somebody’s hat off ~ more encouragement.

“What the…?”

Peeintheair is doing a jig!  His clown shoes flip flop madly as he pyroots around & around, holding the ear-less side of his head as it spurts blood ‘tween his fingers.  He’s kind of like a twirling lawn sprinkler spraying red dew on the smoking, splintering planks around him.  The expression on his face is that of a grinning circus clown ~ even after having wiped off all his make-up.  He’s got a grin on his face so big his eyes are squeezed shut.  He seems to be in his element.  The racket below is deafening.  A carbon stench pervasive.  Smoke is slithering around him like out-of-body experiences.

“Hell!” snarls Ted.  He waves farewell with his gun & exits in disgust out the back door, grabs his guitar on his way out.  A large section of the floor explodes behind him & flames leap up ~ begin waltzing with our NRA celebrity.

Peeintheair’s bodyguards remain catatonic.  I guess they cannot decide whether they want to defend their looney leader or shoot him.  They haven’t moved a quarter of an inch for maybe five minutes.  One of them has a sawed-off shotgun half pulled out of his coat as if eternally posing for a camera that is not here.  Meanwhile his a-whirl dervish boss starts singing:

~

“What stops a bad man

with a gun?

What stops a bad man

with a gun?

Maybe nothin’ can stop him

but the rising sun!”

~

The coat sleeve of one of Peeintheair’s bodyguards catches fire.  This snaps the feller out of his statue-like stillness.  He drops his guns & runs ~ like an Olympic torch-carrier for the front door ~ hollering.  But he doesn’t get too far.  The floor collapses under him in a burst of red sparks.  He tumbles head first into the spluttering tumult of ricocheting bullets below ~ then comes flying out riding a piano-sized fireball that propels him back over our heads across the room.  After that I lose track of this unfortunate individual.  He probably just lies on the floor some where behind a table, perhaps on top of a table, a sizzling charbroiled hamburger…

by Rawclyde!

flames_skulls__digital_art