Posts Tagged ‘gambling’


45

Dogbad 45

Dogbad 45 – Meet Mister Duckbutter

1. Señor Hsss is rattling with excitement over the unexpected sight of his serpent-guru, the Snake Shaman. “We’ve got to see the Shaman- He’ll help us! He knoes EVERYTHING!” “Oh, really?”, replies Kit McKlaw. Kit’s not so sure. He’s had dealings with the Shaman once before, and regards him as little more than a cranky old fool who’s spent too much time in the sun. Hoss is ambivalent, and looks askance. The Debbil just looks.

2. Señor Hoss speaks his equine mind: “I do not share your abiding faith in that shaggy shamanist, my serpent friend, but I’m game for anything if it will remove this unsightly blemish.” He points his hoof at the execrable attachment on his back, and the Debbil responds with a razzle-berry in Hoss’s direction. How could an entity so old act so immature?

3. The contradistinctive quartet approaches the front entrance to the Golden Derivative Guarenteed Safe Gambling Casino. The polished, oversized double doors are guarded by a thin, over-dressed doorman. An obnoxiously obsequious creature, one Mister Herschel Duckbutter, snaps to attention and robotically dribbles out what is perhaps the slimiest expression in contemporary language: “May I help you?” “Yes-” replies Señor Hsss, “We’re meeting someone” continues Hoss, “Inside” finishes McKlaw.

4. Mister Duckbutter gleefully recites his well-rehearsed, opprobrious address: “I’m terribly sorry, sirs- we DO have a dress code for the gentlemen. Please feel free to visit our website for full details.”

5. Our boys do not resond well to this approach. “Why that prissy little high-toned jimcrack-!” seethes Hsss. “I’d like to stomp his girlfriend’s pet gerbil. We’re ten times badder than this phony fag bar.” “Cool your scales, Hissy-” replies Kit, “we’ll show ’em OUR dress code.” McKlaw has no time for gerbils. Neither of them have a moment to waste trying to imagine what a Duckbutter’s girlfriend would look like, if he had one.

6. Kit and Hsss step around back of the building where a steady traffic of workers and over-loaded linen trolleys move in and out of the hotel’s steamy laundry complex. “There are other ways to gain entry” notes Kit McKlaw.

7. Inside the casino, upstairs, a dangerous looking pair of serpent gunsels guards the door of a private room, in which a high-stakes poker game is about to be underway.

8. At the head of the table sits the smiling Snake Shaman, his girl on his arm as he proffers a fresh deck of cards to his off-camera opponent: “Here- you deal.”


Dogbad 51- Au Revoir, Mr Snake Shaman

Au Revoir, Mr Snake Shaman

Dogbad 51 – The Snake Shaman kicks our friends out onto The Street

1. The Snake Shaman finally rises from his seat to firmly but politely explains to McKlaw, Señor Hoss and Señor Hsss that they must leave, and pronto.The three stand mute, like chasened children. “Now that’s settled”, the Shaman entreats, “will you all please exit quietly and allow mw to find my friends so we can resume our card game?”

2. McKlaw and the two Señors retreat back onto the street. It is now dark, past ten o’clock. Kit is philosophical, as usual: “Maybe we should all just go along and enjoy ourselves… the evening’s still young.” “That’s easy for you to say”, grumbles Señor Hoss.

3. Hoss is mired in doubt about what it all means. “I still don’t get it. None of it adds up.” Señor Hsss feels happier, convinced that the mysterious sage has not only relieved their annoying condition, but imparted a deep life-lesson to them in the process. “He’s right though-” says Hiss emphatically, “the Shaman…”

4. “Snakes DON’T pee”, he warbles, eyes heavenward.

5. “Be that as it may”, interrupts McKlaw, “why don’t we just mosey on up and drink about it a while?” Kit alludes to the immediate proximity of the Dogbad Saloon, which is currently open for business as usual. “You got any money?”, asks Señor Hsss.

6. Kit reaches deep into his side vest-pocket, feeling something of weight inside. “I think so”, he replies.

7. McKlaw hefts something inside the pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He pulls it out and gazes at what he now has in his hand- a green glass pint liquor bottle with something inside that’s definitely not liquor! “What’s THIS?” he asks aloud.

8. The bottle lets off an eerie glow and feels uncomfortably warm to the touch. Corked there inside the bottle, peering back at the world into the eyes of the very same three undocumented cartoon characters who thought they’d seen the last of him, they see the crouching figure of Dipple-O-Doakus, the Debbil himself!