Remy Revolver

REMY REVOLVER

         This story is not a love story. Nor is it a tragedy. Nor is it a well written piece of literature. Quite simply it follows the tale of a short, skinny, British man, who by a long and complicated set of circumstances ends up in the wild wild west. This is not the story of those long and complicated circumstances that got him there, for that may be saved for another story, as long as the author of this story isn't feeling to lazy after this one is finished. Moving on, this is the story of what happens when Remy gets there, The story of how Remy becomes a convict, and if your really really primitive and unimaginative, the story of how Remy talks with his funny accent to those cowboys who talk with those different funny accents.Furthermore, this story, unlike any other, will abruptly end the moment the main characters reach a seemingly unconquerable conflict, which may seem a bit strange, but I suppose you could tie it to one of two things. The first being that I was feeling far too lazy to come up with an interesting ending. The second is I simply ran out of ideas. I, however, am far to lazy to remember which.

         A small gasp and a large sigh was heard only by the barman as Remy Revolver woke up, face down on a table in the middle of a dirty, smelly pub with a terrible headache. As the smell of sweaty fat men mixed with the enticing aroma of vast quantities of liquor filled his nose, Remy completely forgot about his headache. This wonderful sensation of not feeling hung over did not last however, as a high pitched laugh filled the dimly lit room, and cleared Remy of all thought other than the pain seeping into the temples of his head. "Wha....What's goin on?" said Remy in a brutally strong British accent as he looked around and a bar fight was brewing throughout the pub.
         "Hyuh, hyuh, hyuh (the terrible scratching noise of the barman laughing). Well there tex, you got blind drunk last night, and fell asleep in that there chair, yes you did."
         Remys headache doubled in intensity as he could not bear to stand the annoying mans voice again. But, just like any story, the annoying man would still continue talking.
         "But there's a bar fight." Remy said "Its eight in the bloody mourning!"
         "There's always a bar fight." replied the annoying barman in the calmest voice he could muster.
         "Always?"
         "Always."
         "Why didn't they attack me then?" replied Remy. Its not that he wanted them to attack him, its just Remy was the kind of person who liked to feel special.
         "Well, I'm basing it on two things. The first is, we gots manners down here and they didn't want ta wake ya."
         "and?"
         "The other possibility we got here is that your ugly. We feels bad enough for the ugly people so we tend not to pick on them as much." said the barman with a very straight face as if he didn't even know that what he had said might have been insulting.
         "Im ugly?" replied Remy as his face began to get red half from his headache, half from his anger.
         "Yes." said the monotone voice of the barman.
         "Why?" replied Remy
         "You tell me." the barman coolly said.
         "When I was born I didn't just choose to be ugly!" Remy screamed
         "Do you remember what happened when you was born?" said the barman
         "Of course not." said Remy his accent seemingly getting thicker with every passing word.
         "Then I guess you can't be certain that you didn't choose to be ugly." said the barman matter-of-factly. He subtly moved in his head and started staring at Remy, patiently awaiting what possible answer he could give to that.
         Remy thought about this and decided it was better not to answer. "Listen you!" he said completely ignoring the fact that he'd just lost the argument. "I find my self, on the whole, very very irresistible compared to you people." said Remy in a frustrated tone.
         The barman was baffled. "Whats that supposed to mean?" said the barman looking confused as ever.
         "You know!" screamed Remy
         "No, whats irr-i-si-sti-ble mean." said the barman "Look Jimmy!" he screamed before Remy could reply as a big man in ragged overalls walked over smoking a pipe. "This here British guy be usin them big words Charlie's always usin." the barman continued
         "Well is that so feller." said Jimmy gazing right into Remys brown eyes. "You think your smarter than me boy?"he asked.
         Remy, now extremely angry, did something many people who are angry do. Something he shouldn't. "Well yes Jimbo!" he said mockingly. "In fact i do think I'm better than you! Oh, wait, let me dumb it down for you a bit...Yer' Dern tootin!"
         
         Two black eyes and one cracked rib later Remy was laying on the dirt road just outside of the pub staring at the inside of his blackened eye lids. Now, as the author, it would normally be my job to explain the setting outside of the pub and talk about the dust blowing fiercely in the wind and use many unnecessary adjectives and similies to give you, the reader, a good visual of where exactly we are. Normally, such an explination would be described through the main characters eyes. Lucky for me, my main character has two black eyes which just so happened to be closed, so you can use your jittery little imagination and come up with exactly what you want this scene to look like. Let's just say im the kind of author who likes to keep my readers involved.
         A minute or so into his nap on the dust covered street, Remy realized he no longer had a terrible, nagging headache. "hmm..." Remy thought to himself "This isn't so bad."
         "Howdy!" said a loud eccentric voice. "Why you sleepin on the street?" said the heavy western, but in a way squeaky voice.
         Remy thought about this a little and said the first sensible thing that came to mind. "Well you see, I woke up in that pub this mourning with a terrible hangover. Then Jimmy there threw me out because I said he was stupid. And now I'm here and my headaches gone and I'm afraid that if I open my eyes, my headache will come back."
         "I see."
         "Yes."
         "Yep."
         "The end."
         "Oh, hi Charlie!" said the squeaky voice who Remy suddenly noticed was the voice of a girl.
         "Hello Jackie!" said the man who was obviously the person the girl had said hi to.
         Remy, despite having a terrible headache at the time, remembered this name as the name that the barman talked about by saying he used a lot of big words. Remy could immediately tell this was the Charlie the barman had been talking about.
         "Extraordinarily amazing day is it not Jackie?" said Charlie boastfully.
         Jackie, clearly not the sharpest knife in the drawer, responded with the first thing that came to her mind that she thought was close to making sense. "...Yes."
         Charlie looked pleased that he had so easily baffled Jackie, so he decided to continue, except this time the focus of his verbal attack would be the awkward looking man who had his two black eyes closed in the middle of the street.
         "Well good sir, is your mind boggilingly bloated mind sleeping on the job? ahaha."  Charlie laughed with the utmost arrogance
         "Well." Remy said beginning to become extremely annoyed with the arrogance of this man. "I was tossed out here by a man named Jimmy, I had a hangover, I landed here, now I don't, and if I open my eyes, Im afraid it will come back. So why don't you walk your prissy ass on out of here!"
         Remys anger forced him to open his eyes. On the left he saw a dirty blonde haired, rather short man with a goatee, wearing a tall cowboy hat, and on the right he saw a black haired girl, dressed in mostly filthy and stained drag, to the point of which you could tell she had slept in some dirty backstreet the night before, and likely had no permanent home. Charlie, looking very disappointed that some beat up British guy just defeated him in a battle of what few would actually call 'wits' said, "So long Jackie, I have some very important business to attend to. " But Remy knew he did not.
         "That was Charlie." said Jackie
         "owwwwwww"
         "He's the mathmetition, scientist, and historian of our town." said Jackie taking no notice to the wailing British man on the ground
         "OWWWWWWW"
         "Nobody really likes him."
         "OWWWWWWWWW"
         "He's never had a girlfriend."
         "OWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
         "I think he's still a virgin."
         "OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
         "What are you crying about!?" screamed Jackie as she had just noticed that Remy had been in pain throughout the entire conversation.
         "My headaches back." said Remy as he gritted his teeth to attempt and make the pain go away. It never works.
         "I see." she said, although Remy wasn't positive that she really did. "Whats your name funny accent guy?" she asked
         "Remy, ugh, my names Remy." he said standing on his feet feeling the terrible pains of his headache that just wouldn't go away.
         "Well Remy, you, uh, mind if I...maybe stay at your place a little while?" said Jackie
         Remys earlier presumptions about her had been right as he, against his better judgment, said "Well, i suppose so. Come on, I need to lay down."
         Just at that moment the wooden swinging doors of the pub burst open from the inside and out walked a fat, dark haired man who reeked of whiskey. He swiftly and surely fell on the ground next to where Remy was previously lying. "Well hooooooowdy haw!" said the drunk man who was getting up on his feet and stumbling around a bit. "Washu guys talkin bout!? Me? you makin fun of...of me!?" he said in very slurred words.
         "No" Remy and Jackie said together.
         "YES YOU IS!" slurred the drunk man as he threw a punch at thin air and immediately as he hit the ground passed out.
         "Thats Henry." said Jackie "He's a drunk."
         "How pleasant." said Remy "This is a very stereotypical western town"
         Jackie stared at the ground looking confused at the use of a big word like 'stereotypical' and instead of replying, just decided to start walking.
         This end of the scene with Henry may seem pointless and sloppy to you. Let me assure you it's not quite pointless. Sure Henry has no more lines in the story, and essentially is not important at all, but without him I wouldn't be able to conjure up an "ending" nearly as quickly as I did. And yes, you who just love descriptions of the characters in the story may be saying "All he said was he was a dark haired fat man!" Well, my response to that would be, just pretend he looks like Rosie O'donald and you have a solid grasp on his ever-so lovely description.

         "Here we are." said Remy as he opened the door for Jackie to his apartment building. Jackie looked around and saw a busted old couch, a few sitting chairs, and a man with a black beard and slicked back hair sleeping on the rickety couch wearing his grey overcoat and deep blue jeans. He also had on a brown shit that said "Typhlos big and tall hats, boy howdy to that!"
         "He sells hats." said Remy sounding embaressed.
         "Is he a funny accent talker too?" Jackie asked.
         "Yes, he came here with me." said Remy
         "Howd' yall get here anywho?" asked Jackie
         "I'd say thats another story for another day as long as the author isnt feeling too lazy." said Remy
         Jackie, still scoping out the place, put her hands on a half torn off piece of wall paper and clutsishly tripped and fell with a thud on the ground.
         "Wha?" the waking sound of Jay Typhlo falling off the couch and quickly getting up trying to make sure that nobody noticed. "Bloody hell." Jay said in a british accent just deeper than Remy's. "Hangover....Remy....why the bloody hell is there a black haired lady sleeping on our appartment floor?"
         "You see." said Jackie, eyes still shut. "I fell down here and I immediately got a headache, now I'm afraid that if I open my eyes it will come back."
         "Oh i see." said Jay approvingly. "She's a very confident lady to be doing that, doesnt care what other people think! You could learn from her Remy."
         Remy then turned his attention back to the awkward, but apparently confident black haired girl lying on the appartment floor.
         "I'm afraid i havn't properly introduced myself.  The medium sized man then bent down so he was right in Jackies face, stuck out his hand and said, "My names Jayson M. Typhlo. Whats yours?"
         Jackie then opened her eyes praying that her headache would be gone, but apparently she was praying to the wrong god.
         "Owwwwwww"
         "Very odd name miss." said Jay
         "Her head hurts!" screamed Remy from across the room as he was grabbing a soda from the refridgerator.
         "Wow i didn't even know they had refridgerators in the old west." said Typhlo
         "I didn't either." Remy replied "I think the author was too lazy to do any reserch." Remy continued as he took a gulp of his soda.
         "Anyways." said Typhlo "Why does her bloody head hurt. Am I boring you miss? Well your not bloody welcome here anyways!"
         "Her names Jackie." said Remy "As she said, her head hurts because she fell."
         "Oh, yeah, i forgot. Well miss jackie you have my sincerest apologies. You may stay here." Said Typhlo.
         "Thank yas." she said. "Yall got any water?" It'll help my headache maybe."
         "In the fridge."
         "Theres fridges in the old west?"
         "Guess so."
         "So." said Jackie as she took a gulp of water and completely made herself at home by flinging her boots on the floor and lying down on the coach that Typhlo previously fell out of. "Yall ever been to a shootout?"

         I feel, as the author, that it is important to explain how shootouts in the old west worked. First a barman would put an add in the newspaper that there will be a shootout outside of his bar. Then, two men with a very specific lifestyle and personality would beam at this idea. First, the people would have to be slightly depressed, and borderline suicidal.
         Then, on the night of the shoot out, the two men would get really really drunk off of whisky and moonshine. Finally, at 11 P.M the barman would call everyone outside and the crowd would form a circle, and the two slightly depressed people would stagger their way into the middle of it.
         Then, the barman would give each man a revolver with one shot in each. The two men would then stagger on, and stand back to back to eachother, both for the reasons of fairness, and so neither man falls. The barman would then say go and each slightly depressed man would take 10 steps forward, which you can find very difficult to do when your drunk and slightly depressed. Then, after the 10 step walk, both men would turn and shoot until they found their target.
         Then, one man gets shot, the other basks in his glorious victory, and forgets everything that happened the next mourning. Unfortunately, Remys best friend Typhlo fit this description perfectly.

         "Alright Jay, you've had enough to drink." said Remy as the big grandfather clock in the middle of the murky, dust filled bar that Remy had been smashed in just this mourning struck 10.           Jay was now downing his 13th shot of the night. "MORE LIQUOR!" screamed Jay in a blind drunk flury. "Somebody get me some glasses cause i cant see shit right now!"
         "Alright Typhlo, let's go home now." said Remy who was beginning to become worried that Jay would do something very very stupid.
         "This crazy western stuff makes my head go crazy!" Typhlo screamed.
         It was as if his british accent had completely diminished and he was acting just like any man in his current situation would. Like a dumbass. "Who...who wants to buy hats from Typhlo!?" screamed Typhlo blindly.
         "Typhlo we gotta go!" Remy said now becomming very frustrated with him.
         "We cants!" said Jay. "I entered us in the shootout!"
         "WHAT!?" screamed Remy. This was exactly the type of thing he feared would happen.
         "WE cants!" Jay said "If we leave now they'll put us in prison!"
         "What. Why?" Remy said stubbornly
         "It's the law." Jay said matter-of-factly
         "Thats the worst law I've ever herd of." Remy said as he was beginning to panic
         "I think its fair." said Jay
         "Tell me that when your sober." said Remy
         "It'll be a jolly good time!" said Typhlo in a poor western accent.
         "Jolly isn't a western word Jay." said Remy
         "Well, watever im too drunk to remember I said it anyways." Jay replied with one of his eyes beginning to close.
         "This is awful." Remy said now in an absolute state of panic. "Well who are we facing?"
         "Huh?" Jay said in a drunk/confused voice. "We're against eachother."

         As this is what i like to consider a seemingly undefeatable conflict, this revoltingly anti-climactic conversation ends the journey of Remy Revolver! If you desperetly need closure, even to a story of such poor quality as this I will now provide a brief summary of what would have taken place at the end of this story, if the author wasn't to lazy to write the entire thing out. First, for those of us who feel no story is a good story without a little lovin',  the barman and Jimmy got married and lived happily ever after. Then, at 10:59 Jay Typhlo had a conversation with Charlie which turned out to be a total buzzkill. Back to his senses, Jay and Remy both made a run for it, but were caught by the giant mob of people who wanted to see a shootout. This primitive and angry mob of people took it upon themselves to banish both Remy and Jay from their pitiful excuse for a town, and they were relocated to a cramped shack out in the middle of the desert. In this mob of people who were doing the banishing, Henry, blind drunk as always ran into Charlie, who very conveniently fell into the sheriff. Charlie won the court case that followed, but they threw both into that already excruciatingly cramped shack, because nobody really liked Charlie anyways. Two days later, Jackie was exiled for trying to sound smart and met up with Remy, Jay, Charlie, and Henry in that oh-so-cramped shack on the outskirts of that oh-so-dreadful town. All five of these very special people rotted away in that shack, where nothing eventful ever happened in their lives again.