“A shaggy dog story or yarn is an extremely long-winded anecdote characterized by extensive narration of typically irrelevant incidents and terminated by an anticlimax.” 

 

 

Fast Eddy was a deadly shot. (often as not *)

One time he bet he could shoot the mole off the end of Wilbur, the bartender’s nose, which he did, but the poor bartender ended up with an extra nostril (schnoz hole, Wilbur called it).

“Thuh better to breathe with,” Eddie said.

“Your turn’s comin’,” growled Wilbur.

The story Eddie liked to tell about his size, (he was 4’5”,) was that in his formative years, he hated milk. Wouldn’t touch it, not even with chocolate syrup mixed in. So, his bones quit growing. Always the object of “short” jokes as a kid, he decided to even the odds. He taught himself to shoot.

He was very good at it, too.  He called himself, “Fast Eddie,” and nobody disputed it.

* (as) often as not In most instances; usually; at least, if not more than, half the time. 

But, to get on with the story …

In the small town of Deep Ruts, Texas, where Eddie lived, there was a rumor goin’ ‘round that a tall, lanky fast gun, named “Hot Shot Hank,” was headed to town, with a good lookin’ babe in tow.

Eddie was anxious to see this female. So, when Hot Shot Hank and “friend” arrived at the Ace in the Hole Saloon, Eddy was perched atop a barstool, twirlin’ his six shooter, whistlin’ an off-key version of High Noon, and tryin’ to think up somethin’ interestin’ to say to her.

The girl was drop dead gorgeous! Eddie was so mesmerized; he fell off the bar stool. Mortified, he turned to the guy next to him and in a loud voice, said, “Why’d you knock me off’n my stool, you miserable sidewinder?” and shot him, dead.

D.D. Gorgeous watched, wide-eyed; then slowly sauntered, (hips swaying,) over to Eddie and said, sotto voice, “If you’re interested in a job, I’ll be back a little later. Don’t leave.” She smiled and meandered back beside H.S. Hank.

Eddie was smitten. Also intrigued. Also, a bit leery. Who did she want offed? Hot Shot Hank, per chance? Whoa! That gave him pause. Why would she want to get rid of that TALL, good lookin, cowboy? He’d better give this more thought before she came back. She could be settin’ him up.

 On the one hand, Eddie was thinkin,’ if she did want Hank “gone,” and Eddie “goned” him, she might be grateful. On the other hand, she might not want evidence left of her duplicity. Not good. He ran different possibilities and scenarios through his head, and when D.D.Gorgeous started walking back toward him, Eddie was a basket case. An ending in his favor didn’t seem feasible if he looked at it sensibly.  What to do?

Quickly he turned to the 3-holed schnoz bartender, and asked, “Wilbur, did you hear what she said?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if I do what she wants, will you back me up that it was her idea?”

Before Wilbur could answer, the girl returned, alone, looking determined. She motioned Eddie to join her at a table in the back of the bar. Sitting down, he noticed that she held a wad of money in one hand, and in the other, a legal looking piece of paper.

Feeling like he should take control of the situation, he cleared his throat and said, “First off, what is your name? I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

She raised an eyebrow over a beautiful violet eye. “Melinda Lou,” she said. “What’s yours?”

Eddie didn’t respond. He knew she knew who he was. Everybody knew him and he was sure she’d asked. So. She was playing some kind of game. His voice lowered an octave. “I don’t play games. And just ‘cause I’m short, don’t mean I’m stupid; so make it quick, or I’m leaving.”

Melinda Lou slowly smiled a condescending smile and Eddie realized he was about to be played, again! Dang this bein’ short!

BUT, she was underestimating him.

“Room 210. Betty’s Boarding House. Midnight,” she said. “Window by the fire escape will be open.  You’ll see your target in bed, through the window. Shoot to kill.”

“Shoot a person who’s asleep, defenseless? You insult me, ma’am. I have principles. “

Melinda Lou laughed. “Principles! You mean like the poor fella who was sittin’ on the stool next to you?”

Eddie’s mustache twitched. His face turned red. His right hand edged toward his gun, hovering.

“Forget it, Eddie,” Melinda said, and nodded at Wilbur, who was suddenly pointing his gun at Eddie.

“Been waitin’ for a reason to do this,” he said, grinning.” BANG.

“OOWWWW! Damn you, Wilbur. You shot a hole in my ear!”

“Well, it ain’t as bad as havin’ three nostrils! Count yoursef lucky.”

Eddie could see the justice in Wilbur’s action and felt a sudden comradery with him. He smiled at the girl as he dabbed a napkin at his ear. “Miss Melinda, I’m sorry, but you better get somebody else to do your dirty work. Also, I would strongly suggest you not try anything with me because from now on I’ll be super vigilant. And with me and Wilbur being more or less even, now, you’ll have two people to off and we’re both pretty good shots.”

Then Wilbur said. “Eddie, I’m thinkin’ I’m goin’ to get you a earring to wear in that hole and…”

BANG! Eddie took a bead on Wilbur. “Looks like you gonna be needin’ a earring, too. Let’s go get us a diamond stud.”

“OW! Blast you, Eddie! Ain’t you done shot enough holes in me? But dogies, if that don’t sound like a winner! Let’s do ‘er.”

Eddie hopped down off the barstool and doffed his hat at D.D.G Melinda. “Nice meetin’ you, ma’am.” Out in the street, he turned to Wilbur. “Better watch our backs with that filly. I don’t trust her none.”

At the store, Eddie and Wilbur were trying diamond studs in their ears, when Wilbur decided he wanted one for his nose, too.

“Yep, he said, I got a hole ready made for a nose stud.

They were looking in the mirror on the counter, admiring themselves, when Wilbur said, “You know, Eddie, I feel kinda bad having one more diamond than you. Want me to give you a nose hole, too?”

Eddie slowly drew his pistol. “Not unless you want another stud for the heart hole you’re about to get.”

Just then, Eddie felt a tap on his shoulder. He jerked around, and looked into the monogrammed belt buckle of DDG Melinda Lou.

“You would shoot Wilbur?” She asked

“Before I’d let him shoot a hole in my schnoz, I would, yes ma’am.”

“Would you shoot me?”

Do I have a reason to?”

“Well, that depends on what you think of my idea.”

“Which is?”

“I want you and me to team up and … rob the bank.

“You WHAT! Are you crazy?”

Melinda Lou’s gun hand was quick—as was Eddie’s – both parties pointing guns at each other.

“Ma’am, it looks like trust is not alive and well, here.” Eddie said. “And by the way, I have a question. Who was I supposed to “off” for you? That’s been buggin’ me.”

Melinda snorted. “Water under the bridge. That bad boy’s dead. I shot him. So, I don’t need that service from you. Any more questions?”

“You mean Hot Shot Hank?”

“Yep. He wasn’t faithful. That’s a sin in my book.”

“So’s shootin’ people, so I guess neither one of us would be looked on favorably by the law. Eddie suddenly grinned. “You got a plan?”

Melinda, all excited by her plan, threw caution to the wind, and blurted it out to Eddie.

Wilbur, who was actually pretty smart, had the sense to bug out before Melinda spilled the bank hoist beans. The salesman didn’t.

He just stood there and listened, and got shot by Melinda.

~ ~ ~

Eddie asked her if maybe they’d better have one other person to be a look-out, but she thought, with her plan, they’d be in and out so fast they wouldn’t need one. She had stolen the key to the bank from the bank pres. Friday night, after plying him with drinks, and also managed to secure the passcode to the vault. The key had to be back before Monday morning, so she was in a hurry.

Late that night Melinda and Eddie entered the bank; quickly opened the vault and stuffed as much cash into the bags they’d brought, as they would hold. Melinda even stuffed some down her clothes.

Eddie watched her and, thinking irrationally, or apparently, not thinking at all, pinched her on her bottom. Well, Melinda let out a scream that would have done a banshee proud. It went on and on as if she’d been threatened by a monster.

Eddie tried to quiet her, but soon realized she had been inexplicably traumatized, and he took off with his share of the loot, leaving her to her fate.

On his short little legs, he ran as fast as he could to Wilbur’s, banging on his door. “Wilbur, quick! Let me in!”

Wilbur, yawning and rubbing his eyes, opened the door. “What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night! You’d think you’d robbed a bank or something.”

Eddie stood his 4’5” self as tall as he could. “Wake up, you ignatz. You were there, were you not, when Melinda laid out her plan?

“Oh. You mean? You did it?”

“What does it look like?” Eddie said, emptying the bags and his clothes.

“Holy Machinoly!” Wilbur said, shocked that Eddie had actually gone through with it. “Where’s Melinda?”

 “She’s, um, … All I did was… I mean, you’d have thought I …”

“What? What? What did you do?”

“She was bending over and I just … gave her a little pinch on the bottom, and she went berzerk, screaming and screaming, like I was trying to kill her, and no matter what I said, she wouldn’t stop, so, I left. The woman’s crazy!”

“Wow. So, she’s still there?”

“I don’t know. but I think she’s part blood hound. I wouldn’t put it past her to show up here.”

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“Wilbur! Where can I hide? Quick.”

Wilbur seemed catatonic, unable to speak. Eddie dived under his bed, just as the door crashed open.

“Where is he? Where is the little back-stabbing squirt? When I get my hands on him, he’ll wish he was dead. What am I saying? He’ll be dead. He did the one thing I CANNOT STAND!”

Wilbur, trying to look sympathetic, said, “What’s the matter, Melinda?”

“I’m going to kill your friend, that’s what’s the matter. Where is he?”

“I thought he was with you.”

“And why would you think that?”

“You were both at the jewelry store when I left. What happened?”

“Well, you could say, he didn’t exactly buy me diamonds.”

“Melinda, you want the truth? All he wanted to do was meet you. He worried about what to say to you. It just didn’t work out.”

“I’ll say it didn’t. He left me high and dry for the marshal to catch me, but…”

“But?”

Suddenly Eddie scooted out from under the bed. “Did you shoot the Marshal?”

“I was goin’ to, but I told him I wouldn’t shoot him and I’d give back the money if he’d let me go and I promised never to do that again.”

“You’re kiddin,” Eddie and Wilbur said at the same time.

“Nope. I told him he was right cute, too, and … we’re goin’ out tomorrow night.”

“You’re kiddin,” they said, again.

“Will you two hush! What’s wrong with us going out?”

“You robbed a bank! That’s what’s wrong,” Wilbur said.

“But I gave it back—at least my share, ahem!”

“Bet you told on me,” Eddie said.

“Didn’t have to. He figured you were the other one.”

Eddie looked at Wilbur. “How come he thought it was me?”

Melinda answered. “Because you’re a bad hombre, Eddie. You shoot people at the drop of a hat. That poor guy who was unfortunate enough to be sittin’ next to you at the bar, that time, was his cousin, and he’s right upset about it.”

Well, I’ve been right here in town and he never said a word to me—never accused me or arrested me, or nothin’.

“Well, he didn’t know for sure it was you until…”

“Until what?”

“Until I told him!” Melinda said, hands on hips.

Eddie slowly shook his head.  He was crushed. He’d kinda hoped he and Melinda might get together after robbin’ the bank.

That’s why he did it. He looked at her, sadly. “You ratted on me,” he said. “Well, here! Give him all this money and tell him I’ll never do it again, and the only reason I did do it was because of you.”

Melinda’s face changed. “That’s the nicest thing anybody ever did for me. I think I’m gonna cry.”

“Me, too,” said Eddie.