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Rating:
PG-13 for Language and Implications...<g>
Disclaimer.
The Magnificent Seven is owned by Trilogy, Mirish and MGM. Nothing
mentioned in this story belongs to me. No money is being made. This
fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes.
Warning: PARODY/SATIRE/HUMOR
Author's
Notes: I'm
in the process of writing a parody for each/any/all of the seven.
(Don't want to pick on anyone <G>) So far, I have: The
Wheel, Icky, Parts,
Rental Horse Blues.
This is a parody. It's not
to be taken seriously.
Ezra
Standish staggered into the saloon, muddy hoofprints marking his
attire. "That... " he pointed toward the still-swinging bat
wing doors. "That... odious, abominable, detestable, execrable,
hateful, odoriferous, repugnant... I need one more describing
word..." He glanced at Wilmington. "Help me out here, Buck."
"Icky?"
"Icky!"
Ezra cried. "That *icky* Mr. Jackson just ran me over with his horse."
Chris
Larabee shrugged. "Maybe it was an accident."
"An
*accident*?" Ezra exclaimed. "I don't *think* so, Mr.
Larabee. I think it was a deliberate act of sabotage towards my
person." Scoffing, he said, "We all know how Mr. Jackson
feels about me." He shook his head sadly. "I just don't
know how to make him understand that I'm," a tear ran down his
cheek, "good and kind and brave-"
Larabee
cleared his throat loudly.
Looking
suddenly sheepish, Ezra scuffed the toe of his boot on the floor.
"Well, eh, the running away from the battle to find my wealth in
gold and getting innocent people killed thing - did kind of
suck." He shrugged. "But," he brightened, "I'm
brave *now*."
The
five peacekeepers stared at him.
Ezra
continued, "And I do not know why Mr. Jackson does not realize
that I'm channeling Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Princess Di... Mr. Rogers!"
Vin
shrugged. "I always liked The Electric Company, myself."
"Speaking
of," Josiah pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket.
"I've got to pay my bill." He studied the paper.
"Anyone know what 'Final Notice' means?"
"Don't
any of you care that my reputation is being... maligned?" Ezra
stomped his foot.
"Frankly,
Ezra, were a mite bored with the whole thing." Vin shrugged
tiredly. "One day you and Nathan is best of friends. The next
day you's wanting to kill each other. Damn, we need score cards or something."
"There's
a daily tally running on the chalk board next to the bar."
"Thanks."
"Mr.
Larabee, aren't you going to help me? Say something wonderful about
my character? After much sole, ahem, I mean soul searching and three
quarters of the story, of course."
Chris
shrugged. "Odoriferous? Are you sure that's the word you wanted
to use?" He shook his head. "What the hell does that *mean*?"
"Icky?"
Buck nodded and then playfully nudged him.
Chris
glanced over at him. The two made eye contact.
Buck
licked his lips.
"God
damn!" Chris blew his bangs off his forehead with a sharp
breath. "Is it *hot* in here?" He slapped the table for
emphasis. "Think I'll," he glanced at Buck and then away,
"go to the... "
"Bathhouse,"
Buck said from the corner of his mouth, not moving his lips.
"...bathhouse!"
Chris finished his sentence and then scurried out.
"Think
I'll go too!" Buck stood up quickly, nearly knocking the table over.
"But,
Buck," JD said, "you already had a bath today." He
looked down at his Swatch. "At 10:20. And then again at 11:15."
"Don't
forget 12:02," Josiah reminded him.
"Oh,
yeah. And then there was the one at 2:43."
"Okay!
Okay!" Buck huffed. "So I'm already clean. But... I
hear... that there's... ah... some... peacekeeping duties that need
to be... dutied at the... ah... you know... "
"Jail?"
"P'shaw,"
Buck scoffed. "The jail? Right! No, at the... bathhouse."
"Oh."
Buck
ran for the batwing doors.
The
men sat for a long moment before Ezra broke the silence.
"Can
we get back to me, now?" The southerner whined. "Don't you
know EVERYTHING has to be about me."
"Suckin'
yer thumb, there, Ez?"
"What's
that supposed to mean, Mr. Tanner?"
"Want
some *whine* with that cheese?"
"Oh,
why yes, Mr. Dunne, that would be- Hey!" Ezra glowered at the
snickering men. "I do not appreciate the implication that I'm-"
"We's
not implicationing anything, Ez," Vin interrupted. "We's
just tellin' it like it is."
"Vin?"
JD asked. "Has your accent like totally been getting worse
since the beginning of the story?"
"Ya
know, I right believe ya'all's right about that one, there, kid."
"I'm
not a k... oh, never mind."
Ezra
sulked. "Everyone knows that I'm the misunderstood mar...
marter... mart... ah, the... self-sacrificing... ah... person... with
the heart of gold." He pulled his pocket dictionary out and
thumbed through it while he spoke under his breath, "How in the
hell do you spell martyr anyway... ?"
"E.
Z. R. A." JD laughed hysterically.
The
southerner glared at him as he put the dictionary away. He hunched
towards the table, looking glum, as he spoke softly under his breath,
so the Whole Stinking Saloon Could Hear Him, "Everyone knows
it's all about me." He stuck his bottom lip out. "All Ezra.
All the time."
"There's
Seven of us, Ez." JD frowned at him. "It's not the
Magnificent One."
"It
might as well be," Josiah rolled his eyes as he huffed loudly.
"Seven men. One STAR."
"Don't
you mean, Seven Men and one stuck up southerner who hogs all the
limelight and is always misunderstood and better'n he's portrayed.
And getting picked on by Nathan even while he's saving small
children... and puppies... in a single bound?" JD said.
Vin
nudged him. "Don't forget that guinea pig."
JD
nodded. "But that took two bounds."
"Right."
"The
Greatest American Hero." Ezra smiled smugly.
"*Loved*
that show!" Josiah exclaimed.
"No."
Ezra glowered. "I mean... that's me... The Greatest Am... oh,
never mind."
Just
then Nathan ran through the butterflywing doors. "Ezra! I am
*so* sorry! It was an accident!" he cried. "I didn't mean
to run you over with my horse!"
Ezra
looked up at him incredulously. "You chased me through two
alleys, around the outhouse and over the General Store."
"Oh,"
Nathan ducked his head, "heh heh, Yeah... but chasin' you over
the General Store was an accident."
Ezra
looked hopeful. "It was?"
"Oh,
yeah. I should have finished you off at least by the second alley."
"Oh."
Just
then Chris and Buck strolled back in, both smoking cheroots. Buck's
was menthol.
"Wha'd
we miss here, boys?" Buck asked.
"Whad?
What the hell kind of word is that?"
"What
did we miss here, boys?" Buck sneered and then stuck his tongue
out at Vin.
The
two peacekeepers sat down at the table with their teammates.
Chris
pulled out his pocket planner. "Ezra, at 4:40 there's some bank
robbers coming into town. I was wondering if you could, in a
wonderful example of self-sacrifice, use your own body as a human
shield to protect one of the others, preferably Vin... or Nathan. And
then spend," he glanced down at his book for a second, "oh,
a couple hours," he looked back up, "in Nathan's clinic,
touch and go, needing surgery, but Nathan too worried to do it for
you, while we wait, in inexhaustible anxiety, outside on the balcony,
hoping you'll be all right."
"But
I have a poker game." Ezra sniffed.
Chris
stared at him.
"Oh,
all right." Ezra agreed and then tipped his hat to his comrades
before leaving the room, a spring in his step.
"He
acquiesced pretty easy there, don't you think?" Buck stroked
his mustache as he glanced at the door.
"All
right. The next person who uses the word 'acquiesced' in a sentence
will Be -Shot- Dead. Do you understand?" Chris put his hand over
his deadpeoplemaker.
They
all acquiesced.
The
men gradually found better things to do and moved out of the scene,
leaving only JD and Vin behind.
"Implicationing?"
JD grinned over at Tanner. "That's a good one, Vin."
Vin
smirked. "Thought it rhymed with vacationing, and that's what
I'd like to be doing right now."
JD
nodded wistfully. "You and me both, pard. You and me both."
October
2004
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