Subject: My Bad Eye Is My Good Eye. Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1999 21:22:20 -0500 From: Rindimo Reply-To: rindimo@bellsouth.net Organization: L.O.S.T.--C.A.U.S.E. To: TLK Mailing List . My Bad Eye Is My Good Eye. By: Rindimo "Snake Eyes" Cheetah. It was a harsh noon in the little town of Pride Land Gulch. What once was a town known for its cattle grazing lands was slowly turning into a ghost town. All that really kept the inhabitants from leaving this dust bowl could be found at the Hotel Alba and Saloon-- where the drinks weren't the only things free occasionally... The wounds this little town bore were deep, and evident in the dry, desolate landscape around it. Desperados from across the border had ruled this land ever since Marshall Mufasa was killed in a showdown by his brother Red Eye Taka. The Graveyard Gang, as they were called, made it a point to terrorize the few inhabitants that hadn't left. Especially the dancers in the saloon. It was one of these sordid, melancholy days that a stranger rode into this western town accompanied by the tumbleweed, and the wisps of dust conjured up by the biting wind. No one even heard him dismount his warthog, and hitch him to the watering trough with the horses. The music, and the cheering suddenly ended though, when the dancers stopped their act-- seeing the stranger brush past the saloon's bar doors. "Howdy," the stranger nodded in the direction of the silent crowd of lions and minions of hyenas staring at him. "I didn't means ta ruin all yore fun. I'm just lookin' fer one man, an' I'm hopin' Ya'll kin help me." "Get out of here, stranger!" A lion at the bar sneered. The stranger examined the figure with his back turned to him. "Perhaps you kin help me, sir. The feller I'm lookin' fer is called 'Red Eye Taka'. Have ya heard of him?" "Never!" "He's wanted for cattle russlin', murder, bank robbin', and claim jumpin'. Are ya sure?" "Yep. Now Git!" "Taka's Got long black hair jest like yore's...." The stranger walked up to the bar patron's side. "...he got a black leather trench coat like yore's... Leather gloves... Gold plated piece... You sure you don't know who this Taka feller might be?" "Look, boy..." The leather clad desperado faced the stranger with a dusty, tattered patch over one eye. Finally facing the stranger, the old Lion took a good, hard look at the stranger in front of him. Suddenly, he bolted for the door! BLAM! Everyone froze-- including the one-eyed lion. "Now no reason to git excited," the stranger explained as he aimed his smoking revolver from the ceiling, to the dark lion in the doorway. "Reach fer the sky, and turn 'round an' face me, ya two-bit varmint!" The old outlaw complied. "Now," The stranger continued, "What's yore name!?" The one-eyed outlaw examined the stranger some more before replying. His face turned from fear into a defiant grin. "Shucks, you ain't the Marshall! I kilt him years ago!" "I SAID 'What was your NAME'?!?" The stranger gritted the question between his teeth. "They call me Red Eye..." Murmurred Taka. "Now ya happy, bounty hunter??" "I reckon," murmurred the stranger. "Simba? Simba, ain't that YOU?" Shouted a dancer onstage. "Maw? Maw, is that YOU?! What the hell you doin' up thar dressed like that!!?? Git down! You're embarrassing me!" "Oh, Simba!" Sarabi cried as she hugged her son. "Times have been tough since your paw passed away. It was the only way to make a livin' out here!" "Simba? SIIIIMMMBAAAA!" Red Eye Taka crooned as he realized who his adversary was. It was none other than his nephew come to call for revenge. "That's right, uncle! I'm here to git my pappy's ranch back, ya hear?!?" "Now looky here, Simba!" Taka spat, "I don't care who's boy you are! It's my ranch now, an' you're a-tresspassin'!" "I reckon that's how ya see's it..." Simba squinted at Scar, "But I ain't the one that kilt my paw ta gets ahold of this here land!" "Fat luck, donkey snot!" "You need killin', Red Eye. You need it bad!" "Then why don'ts ya shoot me? Or are ya jest plain yeller?" "I ain't like you, Red Eye." "Bad mistake," Red Eye grinned as two hyenas jumped Simba from behind, and restrained him. "What makes ya think you kin jest walk into my saloon, an' ruin a good day's worth of entertainin' and drinkin'?" "My pappy always said," Simba retorted, "We's all kinnected in the great circle of life." "Goes ta figger," Red Eye Taka commented, "Yore pappy never even amounted to a pile of buffalo chips." With that, he punched Simba in the face a few times-- much to the crowd's horror. "That'll teach ya ta mess with yore uncle, boy!" Red Eye scanned the crowd of hyenas for a few moments until he saw the trio he was looking for. "Butch, Scout, Flea-biscuit! Show my nephephew the way outta this town-- Permanently!" Bonzai, Shenzi, and Ed appeared wearing dishevelled sombreros, and began to carry an unconcious Simba out into the street. "Serves you right," scoffed Red Eye. "Now, as I recall, You was about ta dance fer us, weren't you, Miss Sarabi?" "But my boy--" "He ain't nothin' ta be concerned about no more, now dance fer me, woman!" Sarabi began to cry as she proceeded back onto the stage. Her body cringed when three gunshots rang out from the street. Silently, she cried, and took her place in the dancing line. Red Eye growled as he fired a round from his colt .45 revolver at a glass of beer sitting atop the piano. "PLAY!" The music forcefully began again, and the town continued to writhe in the direction that Red Eye Taka wanted it to go. That is, until three more shots were suddenly heard, and three sombreros flew in from the doorway of the saloon. "Is that the best you kin do, Red Eye!?" Simba shouted from the street, with three dead hyenas at his feet. "What the-- ...How in hell--??" "My pappy always said," Simba replied, "Remember, remember, rememb--" "Shut the hell up!" Scar scorned at the young lion before him. "Yore pappy NEVER used to could say somethin' smart! You ain't helpin' him out either, retard!" "Ain't no one mouthin' bad 'bout my pappy and gets away with it!" Simba returned. "Come out, ya mangy coyote, and fight like a man!" "With pleasure, pansy." The two lions walked a good distance away from each other in the street, and faced each other... waiting for the perfect chance to draw their weapons for the showdown. Taka was the first to draw. It was exactly what Simba wanted. Before the one-eyed villian could place a bullet between Simba's eyes, Simba pulled out his gun from its holster, and fired a shot at Taka's paw. The gold-plated revolver instantly flew out of Taka's paw, and fell to the ground. Taka was frozen in disbelief. The surprise of Simba's speed and accuracy left him in a daze. By the time he realized he should run for cover, Simba was already in his face pointing his handgun at him. "You don't deserve ta live..." he growled. "What're ya gonna do to me, Simba?" "Dead or alive, you're worth th' same..." "Now now, Simba, ya cain't kill me. I'm family!" "No, Taka, I ain't likes ya. You ain't worth th' shot." "Thank Gawd! I'll do whatever ya says. Honest." "Run away, maggot. Git outta here, and don't ever come back this a-ways. Ya hear!?" "Y-yes... Whatever milks yore guernsey... your ma-JESS-TEEEEE!!!!" Suddenly, Taka pulls from his coat pocket a tiny derringer at Simba. A shot rings out, but it's not from the small arm Taka produced in desperation. As the smoke wafted from the barrel of Simba's gun, he watched his uncle fall to the ground clutching his chest in pain. "N-nice shot, Simba-a..." Red Eye Taka gasped. He gestured for Simba to come closer to hear his final last words. BLAM! "That's a pretty nice shot too, eh!? HA HA HA!! Gotcha!" Simba grabbed his foot, screaming in pain from the bullet wound as the dying Taka proceeded to guffaw in laughter on the ground. "Curse you, Taka!!!" Simba screamed as he emptied his revolver magazine into Taka's head. Seeing that their leader was dead, the hyena's quickly mounted their horses and headed off for the refuge of the desert. "Nala!" Simba shouted, "Fetch me a possy of lionesses, and run them hyenas down!" Joyously, the townspeople complied, and gathered what little weaponry they had in order to capture the remnants of the Graveyard Gang. Before Nala could join the others, Simba quickly pulled her aside. "Simba, what're ya up to? Them varmints is gettin' away!" "Don't worry yore purty little head off, Nala. Them folks kin get 'em. We gots more important matters at hand." "Oh yeah? Like what??" "Celabratin'." "You men," Nala sighed as she hopped onto Simba's warthog, That's all you think of. Next thing ya know, we'll be gettin' hitched or something." "Dern skippy!" Simba grinned as the two rode off into the sunset. **** Back in the bar... "Who was that maned man?" asked one drunk to another. "Like I'd give a big fat crap!" Mumbled a drunken baboon. Both of them looked at eachother for a moment, then nodded in agreement as they both turned to look at Sarabi. "Dance! Dance! Dance!" They shouted with glee. The End. (I reckon.) -- -Rindimo Cheetah (rindimo@bellsouth.net) +Founder, and only member of L.O.S.T.-- C.A.U.S.E (League Of Simplistic Technology-- Creating All Unforeseen Solutions Evident) +FCOS Lost & Found Clerk ICQ # : 12915153 +Amateur Artist/Writer/Musician AOL IM : Rindimo1 +Bachelor <=( Webpage: http://www.lionking.org/~rindimo/index.shtml + Monorable Member of the Pride Keepers. "One thing nothing can destroy, is our pride deep inside we are one!" ********************************************************************* Well don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop. Because as soon as you stop, you're forgotten. - Mageuzi *********************************************************************