Riders of the Purple Nurple.

Looks like we're going to have another Western adventure of the one and only Bang Gunly. 

"BANG GUNLY vs. GANG BUNLY"

by Frederick Key

Dedicated to Mike "Flangepart" Weller,
who has no one but himself to blame for this

Bang Gunly rode his loaner horse into town. The sign, hanging by one nail on the left, said Lonesome Ridge. Sounded nice. He needed a spot to rest a spell. This ol' nag wouldn't take him too much farther without it, and the shop said his palomino wouldn't be ready until morning. Naturally all they had on the lot was an ol' three-legged draft horse named Shirley. 

He hoped he could enter Lonesome Ridge without being seen. Guys were always challenging Bang to a gunfight. He was tired of having to kill 'em. Plus, Shirley was kind of embarrassing. At least he was wearing a mask. Since the Chinese Tumbleweed Flu came to the West, the territories all had rules to wear masks to Stop the Spread and Flatten the Curve. What the goldang heck was the curve, anyway?

"That's one strange horse you got there, mister."

Bang looked up. Speaking of curves! Before him was a fine young lady, built like a brick shipyard under government contract. She had an hourglass figure filled with two hours' worth of sand. Indescribably delicious. And her eyes... uh...

"Up here, mister."

Brown. They were brown.

"Good evening, miss," said Bang, alighting from his saddle with a tip of the hat. He spat a bit of 'baccy juice, which was a mistake in his mask. "And what might your name be?" he asked, digging for a tissue.

"Lululubelle," she said. "Lululubelle Horowitz. I own Only Saloon in Lonesome Ridge."

"What's it called?"

"The Only Saloon in Lonesome Ridge."

"But what's it called?"

"The Only -- you know, never mind. This here's Gabby, my bartender."

Gabby, an older man with a big Mexican style hat and a lanyard with his union badge (Gabbys Local 135), said, "Ayup."

"You a gunslinger, stranger?" asked the comely lass.

Bang shifted his weight manfully and said, "Now how might you know that, missy?"

"Oh, the way you carry yourself with a swagger. The way you jump to the ground with your spurs jingling harmoniously in E and A flat. And the two six-guns at your waist, the shotgun on your back, and the Winchester rifle in your boot."

"Don't fergit the Derringer in my hat band."

"Nice touch. I could use a man like you."

"Hey-O!"

"I mean for fightin'." She fluttered her eyelashes flutteringly. "There's a gang terrorizing Lonesome Ridge, a group of bushwackin' sidewinders called Gang Bunly. I'm sick of them shootin' up my place. Can you take 'em?"

"Gang Bunly!" said Bang Gunly. "That's got kind of a familiar ring."

"It should!" came a craggy voice behind him. Bang spun about to see a foursome of desperadoes, armed to the teeth, which were covered by stolen N95 masks. The big one, a fat greaseball with a flowing mustache that threatened to eat his mask, said, "It's me, Bang! Your cousin, Gang Bunly! And this here is my gang I named after myself!"

The gang made evil noises, and farted just to be more evil.

"Three ain't much of a gang, cuz," said Bang.

"We're just gettin' started. It's more'n enough to take a dumbbell like you."

Bang squinted. "Smile when you say that, pardner."

"I am smilin', you dummy! I got this damn mask on is all! Now you better clear outta here or my gang will plug you where you stand, and your three-legged horse!"

"Now you done gone too far!" said Bang. In the blink of a skeeter's eye he whipped out his two six-shooters and blasted eight holes in three bandits. Do the math. Show all work. 

Gang Bunly found himself standing alone. "You're still handy with the irons, Bang," he said.

"Don't you threaten to kill that horse. I'll never get my palomino back."

Gang snarled. "They'll probably blame you fer that dent in her rear."

Bang snorted. "How's yer old man?"

Gang said, "Toler'ble. Bunions acting up. My sister just had a baby. Little boy named Dang."

"That's right nice."

"How's your ma?" Gang said.

"She's fine."

"Glad to hear it," spat the villain. "She's good people. But she's gonna have to bury her third-favorite son if you don't clear out."

"I'm a-stayin," said Bang.

Gang reached for the guns on his belt. "Oh, yeah?"

"This here town ain't big enough for the two of us," Bang growled.

"Ah reckon you're right," sneered Gang. "What town is?"

Bang thought for a moment. "Phoenix?"

Gang nodded. "Okay."

So they moved to Phoenix and each got a nice little place. Bang got a split-level with utilities included, and Bunly got a two-story walkup still under rent control. 

After they were gone, Lululubelle said, "Who was that masked man?"

"Consarn it, Lululu!" yelled her bartender, Gabby. "How in tarnation should I know? We're all wearin' masks!"