The saloon doors slammed open to reveal a buxom woman
silhouetted against the fading sun. In truth, this woman was well padded not
just above the waist, but also below, such that an hourglass would pale by
comparison.
She squinted into the smoky room, lifting one corner of her
upper lip and revealing a ragged set of brownish teeth. She snorted and spit a
wad of tobacco and phlegm with perfect trajectory into the spittoon situated
next to Wide Burp with such force that it jangled his spurs.
Burp tipped his hat back to get a better look at the
newcomer, unveiling an enormous proboscis and a lazy eye. His good eye locked
upon the figure in the doorway and an involuntary intake of air nearly sucked
the flame from the candle on his table.
Burp quickly stood, shoulders back, chest out, and belly
sucked in as much as was humanly possible.
“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat flirtatiously. “Won’t you join
me?”
She paused for a moment, looking into his good eye (his lazy
eye wandered up and down her form), before sashaying over and placing her
enormous gloved hand onto his extended palm.
“Wide Burp, at your service.” A slight bow accompanied his
words.
“Poigancy Wafflebottom,” she replied in a sultry baritone,
giving his hand a bone-crunching squeeze. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Burp knew his life would never be the same. But he was
instantly head over heels in love (or was it lust) with Poignancy Wafflebottom,
and there was no going back. She was his destiny.
