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Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The
Magnificent Seven is owned by Trilogy, Mirish and MGM. No money is
being made. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes (not
porpoises, 'cause those are little fishy things that live in the sea).
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.
A
wagon train moved through town, women and children playing
boisterously. Buck heard loud gut-wrenching sobs and glanced over to
see Chris, curled up in a fetal position on the boardwalk, bawling.
Buck
sighed. "Ah, Chris."
"It's
the wagon train, Buck," Chris cried.
"Is
this about the wife and son thing?" Buck asked. "Because,
I mean, you know we feel bad, Chris, but it's kind of been done into
the ground."
Chris
sniffed loudly. "Lord knows I miss Sarah. But let's face it,
pard, she was a really lousy cook," he said, as he sat up Indian
style, rubbing his cheeks with his fists.
"Plus,
she slept with me," Buck reminded him.
"Yeah,
there's that."
"Can't
say nothin' bad about Adam, though." Chris shook his head,
sniffling. "That boy was a gift from God. Literally. We got him gift-wrapped."
"So
you're not cryin' about Sarah and Adam?"
"No,
Buck, this ain't about them." Tears ran freely down his cheeks.
He blew his nose wetly into the colorful bandanna Wilmington handed
him. "It's the wheels, Buck," his gaze tracked the wagons
as they slowly made their progression down the street, "they
reminded me." He cleared his throat loudly when he got choked
up. "No, this ain't about them. This is about..." he wiped
his eyes. "Oh, it's so hard to talk about."
"It's
okay, Chris. Just let it out," Buck soothed.
Chris
nodded, wadding the bandanna up in his hands as he said, his voice
tight, emotion-filled, "I had a hamster once, Buck. His name was
Fred." He swallowed hard. "I miss Sarah and Adam, I do.
But, oh God, I loved that hamster." He raised his face up to the
sky, "Why, God? Why did you take my Fred?"
Wilmington
patted him on the back, offering his friend what little comfort he could.
Chris
was silent for a moment before he faced Buck again. The corners of
his mouth turned up fondly. "He had a little wheel," he
looked wistful as he mimicked running with his first and second
fingers, "and he'd just go and go. Oh," he looked
heavenward as he sighed, "those were good times."
"You
never tol' me 'bout this, Chris," Buck said, his voice sad,
petulant. "We rode together for twelve years and you never once
even mentioned having a hamster." He shook his head. "The
iguana, sure. The orangutan, three or four times." He slapped
his leg with the palm of his hand, his feelings hurt. "But not
once did you ever mention having a hamster."
Chris
wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Buck." He grasped his friend's
arm. "It was just too close," he put his other hand over
his heart as his voice cracked, "in here, you know?" He
started bawling again, his head on Buck's chest. "Fred! Oh, god!
I miss you, Fred."
September
2004
Ode
to Fred
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Comments
Please let me know what you think. I'd love to know. Flames will
keep my feet toasty... and will be laughed at. Forever.
Ruby1481_7@yahoo.com |
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...what
happened to Fred? Will we ever find out? Oh, the drama. The
suspense. The anxie... ah... The suspense! Tune in next week to How
The Wheel Turns to find out.
uh...
just... kidding... ;) |
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