Because 'What a Cowboy' arrived somewhat unexpectedly in my life, I currently have very little in the way of resources to set up a game like some of the amazing ones that you see on the internet. However, I was determined that, when I had painted my first four cowboys, I was going to set up the dining room table for a shootout, come what may. Well, here we are; four cowboys and a mere smattering of scenery made up mostly of a load of boulders and an outdoor privy! What, I hear you cry, can you do with that?
Call it coincidence, call it chance, call it what you will, but no one could have foreseen the strange series of curious events that would lead to the ferocious fracas, at the place known to the God fearing and upstanding citizens of Devil's Butte as... The Privy of Doom!
As implausible as it may seem through the swirling mists of time, the devious Gods of Happenstance had conjured up a lethal confrontation between two of those worthy townsfolk and a pair of that most notorious and outrageous band of villainous rouges, The Hole in the Roof Gang!
Both pairs of gun totin' folk, good and bad, had, that warm September Kansas morning, inexplicably found themselves wandering aimlessly towards that mysterious boulder strewn location, where the latrine with no known purpose had stood since before the days when the founding fathers of Devil's Butte had arrived and settled this land of promise and plenty.
Longhorn McDuff - 'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man.
"Great swaggerin' hornytoads, Kid, I'm suddenly a might bustin' for a pee!", announced the grizzly old timer, Longhorn MacDuff.
"Yup!", replied The Vimto Kid, succinctly summing up their somewhat desperate and completely out of the blue situation.
MacDuff urgently crossed his scrawny legs and said, "If the stories my old Mammy used to tell me, as I sat upon her one remaining arthritic knee, are true, then, about a mile up the road, there's a hidden privy where I'll be able to relieve myself."
"Yup!", replied the Vimto Kid, suddenly turning pale. "I think we might need to hurry, Longhorn, my bowels ain't feelin' too good." And, with that, the two outlaws shuffled hurriedly off in the direction of the legendary outhouse.
Meanwhile, some distance to the north, Devil's Butte's very own medical practitioner and sawbones, Doc Marten and Tennessee Jacques Daniels, owner and sole proprietor of the town's one and only hostelry, the Jaunty Buckaroo, were also experiencing the frantic need to answer the primordial call of nature. "I'm not sure how long I can hold on," stammered Tennessee Jacques.
"Now don't you worry Tennessee," said Doc, calm and medical like, "If we get a move on, we should be able to make it to The Privy of Doom just in time."
"The Privy of Doom!" shrieked Daniels, "We can't go there... it's haunted by the ghost of some fella who got stuck in the lavatory, he was there from Sunday to Saturday and nobody knew he was there!"
"Poppycock," replied the leech, "Now see here, I'm a man of science and intellectual enlightenment and I know there is no such thing as ghosts. Now you just hang on to your intestines Tennessee and we'll have you sat on that thunderbox before you can say 'clench my buttocks'."
Doc Marten - learned scholar and man of science.
Tennessee Jacques Daniels - Shotgun wielding hotelier and owner of the Jaunty Buckaroo.
And so, the scene is set, four desperate men heading inexorably towards a meeting with destiny and heavily soiled underwear... anything can happen in the next half an hour...
The Privy of Doom stood at the centre of an ominous ring of boulders believed, by the indigenous population, to be the droppings of an ancient giant buffalo god called Teetonka and his beautiful hirsute wife, Wachiweewee.
The first ever card draw and activation roll of a game of 'What a Cowboy' on ye olde dining room table, saw Doc Marten, the least desperate of our four dramatis personae, rolling no less than three movement dice...
The three movement dice enabled Doc to weave his way through the boulders and end his activation just a hop and a step from the asylum of the Privy of Doom. His inexperience had, however, left him somewhat exposed should one of the Hole in the Roof Gang get in a position to draw a bead on him. Well, would you credit it? The grizzly old timer, Longhorn McDuff, wandered into a gap between the boulders, giving him a clear line of site on Doc. "Dang my Doodle," said Longhorn, hurriedly drawing his six shooter, "Don't you squat on yer spurs boy!" he called, hastily squeezing the trigger, but his two unaimed shots caused Doc not one jot of bother. Meanwhile, the Vimto Kid moved up to the boulders and, in spite of his greenhorn status, took careful aim and fired a shot at Doc, who was just recovering from the shock of being fired upon by McDuff... The God of the Boulders must have been smiling down on the Vimto Kid as his first ever shot winged Doc Marten, who was now utterly flabbergasted to find himself being fired at from both sides of the Privy of Doom. The Cowboy Chronicles relate that Doc Marten was made of stern stuff and, brushing off his flesh wound, he hauled himself into the bouldery cover and took careful aim with his six shooter... Longhorn McDuff let out a fearful yawl as the .45 calibre bullet tore through the extensor digitorum longus muscle of his right leg, "You great flannel mouth'd bangtail sidewinder!" howled McDuff, realizing that he was seriously hurt and those minus 1 modifiers were going to make it mighty difficult to reach the Privy before the long expected trouser deluge. Things began to look even more bleak for the Hole in the Roof Gang, as Tennessee let go a mighty two barrelled blast with his shotgun in the direction of the Vimto Kid. Youth is a property that only the young are blessed with and Vimto was able to dodge nimbly into cover and, with remarkable coolness, subsequently aimed two shots in return... and now it was Tennessee who was diving into cover as the lead whistled by his ears. Seeing his opponent down, the Vimto Kid took a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life and forced himself out of his rocky shelter to make a Herculean dash for the dunny. "Thunderation Kid," called Longhorn, still hopping wildly on his wounded leg, "Hang fire there and get yer bat wings back into cover before them varmints plug yer fulla lead." "Aint nobody stoppin' me from gettin' to that there privy now Longhorn!" replied the breathless youngster.
Unfortunately, the Vimto Kid hadn't bargained on Tennessee Jacques Daniels' card being the first out of the deck in the next turn...
those two ones meant that Tennessee could rid himself of that unwanted pinned marker and stroll like the veritable bringer of death, right in the direction of the Vimto Kid, standing right outside the Privy of Doom with just one slug contaminating his six shooter. "Hold it right there yer squinny greenhorn," snarled Jacques, "That there Privy 'aint big enough for the both of us, so I'm gonna have to use this here splatterin' iron to take your place in the queue!" And, with that, he levelled the shotgun straight at the Kid and sent a death-dealing cloud of lead hurtling in his direction. Once again, the Vimto Kid's athletic prowess saved his villainous life and he dived for the cover of the Privy as a cloud of lead whistled past his well honed leaping body. Now it was Tennessee who realised that he was in a precarious situation and he swiftly played his remaining movement die to scurry for the cover of the other side of the privy. The two enemies now found themselves in the ultimate danger, with just a wooden privy between each of them and six feet of pulpy soil and a wooden cross in the eternal embrace of Boot Hill.
It was then that a sharp metallic click from behind him made the Vimto Kid spin through one-hundred and eighty degrees and the horrific realisation that he had placed himself right in the sights of...
the wounded but still fighting Doc Marten. Not for the first time that fateful day, the luck of the card draw was with the Vimto Kid and he was able to unleash a shot towards Doc Marten, who, definitely not for the first time, found himself hurling himself into the rocky boulders of the giant buffalo god. Lady Luck, they say, is a fickle mistress and she was about to sever any relationship she may have ever had with the poor gullible dupe, the Vimto Kid! No sooner had the Kid's last bullet ricocheted off the life saving boulders which had devotedly protected Doc Marten, than the man, who was to prove to be his nemesis, broke from cover and aimed his re-loaded shotgun at point blank range at the adolescent outlaw, hoodwinked, deluded and corrupted by the promise of fame, riches and an endless supply of beans. This time, there were to be no second chances... The Vimto Kid was no more, shuffled off this mortal coil by both barrels of a bar owner's shotgun. Each man's death diminishes me, for whom the bell tolls, Vimto Kid, it tolls for thee! With the Vimto Kid despatched, Tennessee Jacques claimed his murderous prize and headed for the prostate relieving refuge of the Privy of Doom. Fate, however, was to deliver him a blood chilling reward that no man should ever have the misfortune to face... The Legend of the Privy of Doom was, it appears, true after all... whomsoever the poor unfortunate, forced to spend a penny for all eternity may have been, we will never know. Indeed, the sheriff of Devil's Butte, Sheriff Dick Steeples, has said, that the mystery of the Privy of Doom may never be solved as they have nothing to go on.
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