While smoked rolled out of the burning fires in half the town’s commercial buildings—the half owned by Parson Jacob Marie-Landis—Rascal Bastardson strolled out of town on his big white mare, Blackie. He wore an enormous black Stetson hat, an ankle length oilcloth overcoat, a battered old pair of dirty dungarees, and boots with silver spurs that rattled like cowbells every time Blackie’s right front hoof struck the ground. He was smoking a cheroot, drinking from a half empty bottle of sour mash and appeared to be entirely unruffled by the commotion he had caused behind him. Dynamite would do that to a crowd, he thought.
Take it Away Tuesday
Comment
Comment by Kristine_ES on January 18, 2012 at 12:26pm That last sentence sure did seal it. Wonderful.
Comment by Sandra Davies on January 18, 2012 at 3:02am This was enough to tell me I'd've been way out of my comfort zone attempting aything for this prompt - loved it.
Comment by shauna mcclure on January 17, 2012 at 7:03pm had to really smile at rascal bastardson. dang.
Comment by Travis Smith on January 17, 2012 at 8:40am Great as always Bill - I think this worked really well leaving the relationship between Rascal and the Parson out and just focusing on Rascal as he left town. That gave us enough to fill in some blanks - and the "true" story is not all that important, just the outcome. Well done.
© 2012 Created by Blake N. Cooper.

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