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 Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 7:57 pm
*Wakes up from a nap out on the patio.*
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:00 pm
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:07 pm
Yep. *Tosses Hex my lighter.*
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:10 pm
Consarned future folks, ain't what nobody use matches in yern time?!
*Flicks and flicks and flicks*
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:12 pm
Hang on a second. *Rummages through my travel bag. Comes up with a box of matches.* These more your speed, brother?
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:28 pm
Ah ain't yer brother, but yeah, those'll do.
:A spark from the matches illuminates Jonah's entire face:
Ah've been to thuh future. Don' much cayah fer it. Ah'll take mah Colt's over yhar fancy rayguns any day of thuh week.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:31 pm
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:33 pm
'Scuse me, Ah'm a mite shy and Ah git all a-twitter when someone whut stares at me.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:35 pm
stare "You flatter yourself if you think it was you who I was staring at."
*steps behind the bar and pours a glass of dark wine*
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:36 pm
Wahl, someone's gotta flatter me, won't nobody else do it. And me heyah with such sensitive feelin's.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:39 pm
stare "And here I thought Ben Grimm had the market on self loathing cornered."
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:42 pm
Who's loathin' anythin'? I ain't the ones what gotta stare at muh face. It bother yuh, plenty o' other directions tah stand what facin', tenderfoot.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:49 pm
Surface people and their rude manners. And they wonder why Atlanteans hold such distrust.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 8:52 pm
Ya jus' don't know Southern hospitality when yah see it. Here, yah kin even have a snort of muh Red Eye iff'n yuh like. Here, let me antisceptic thuh top fer yuh.
::Takes the bottle of whiskey and licks the rim, wiping it off with a shirt sleeve::
Bottoms up, frien'.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 9:03 pm
::Looks outside::
I dunno whut you types see when yuh's looks outside'a this'n place, but I see me Stutterin' Sam McGee, whut got $200 on his head fer robbin' thuh Post Office in Kansas.
::Tosses the bottle at the fish guy::
Ah called 'im. He's mah bounty.
: biggrin raws pistols, and heads out the door::
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