Dodge City, Kansas

Circa 1876

“The Hussy From Hoboken Returns”

In several of my stories, I have mentioned a couple of “ladies” who have passed through the Old West town of Dodge City…… Silva ,”The Vixen From Vermont” and Nancy, “The Nutter From Nebraska.” I refer to them as “The Hussies From Hoboken;” Don’t know why….. I just do.

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Silva was a woman of many talents….Her most recent being, the art of belly dancing. Nancy did any odd job that came her way: Lamplighter,Village idiot, Circus attraction ……… She could walk a tightrope while banging one of the clowns AND juggling empty pop bottles.

On this particular visit to town, they both decided to work as dancehall girls for Miss Kitty at the Long Branch Saloon. They decided it was time they meet some REAL cowboys. Truth be told, they both STILL had a hankering for U.S.Marshal Matt Dillon.

Nancy: ” Hey Vix….. You know Marshal Dillon is still with that fool from Virginia, Sunshine Mac Something….. I guess he’s off the market”

Silva: ” You lamebrain…….Don’t you know? (5) They call me ‘the lady who gets what she wants.”

Nancy was stunned…..”WHO calls you a lady?” Silva just rolled her eyes and adjusted her girdle.

Miss kitty interviewed the two women and decided they would do.

Nancy The Nutter:”And Miss Kitty. I jest knoooooooow the men will like this…… She took out her gold tooth and did exotic bird whistles.

Miss Kitty:”( 6) WOW, that’s fascinating!! (yawn)”

As they were walking out….”I’d like to see HER do the mating call of the Humpback East African Canary!!”

That evening , Silva and Nancy were dressed to the nines. They sat there……. waiting to be pawed by drunk cowboys .

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One old cowpoke walked over to Nancy …..”Hey, sister. You remind me of the mule I had to put down last week.

HEE HAAAAWWW!!!”

Nancy:”(1) I shaved my legs for this?!”

Silva looked around and spotted Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshal. Since he was busy shooting a card cheat, she bided her time.

As Matt strolled by, twirling his pistol before hostlering it, Silva grabbed his arm…… (2)” I can’t say I wasn’t warned about you, you big studmeister. But I just happen to think that you would be MUCH happier with me, than that Annie Oakley character you’re shacked up with!!!”

Matt glared at her and kept walking. Silva , quick to recover from the rebuke, jumped up and ran over to the piano…… Billy Joelinski was just wrapping up one his songs.

Silva:”Hey ! Mr. Piano Man.” She gave him some sheet music she kept in her purse and launched into a song that she had just written:

♫ ” (3) I’ve heard better excuses from the men down on the docks.

The food you cook is awful. It tastes just like worn out socks.

The whiskey is on fire. My heart is nearly broken

I ‘ve had myself every man I’ve seen (4) From Here to Hoboken. ♫”

Matt listened in disbelief. He drank his beer in one gulp,belched and took his leave.

Silva ran after him…..”Oh, Marshal Dillon. Did you like my song? I was singing JUST to yoooooooooou, sugar britches.”

Matt tipped his hat and drew his gun.

“Please maam. Don’t come any closer!!”

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My work place was having a wine and cheese get together tonight along with a guest speaker that I was warned about. Donna, a friend at the office, told me she couldn’t be there at the start but would meet me at 9pm.

I spent a couple of hours getting ready and into the gorgeous dark, blue dress I bought for the occasion. Looking in the mirror for the last time I was quite pleased with the reflection looking back at me.

Quite a few had arrived already and as I looked around the room for the guest speaker, just out of curiosity, I saw this tall, handsome, looking fellow so I figured he must be the one. Apparently the firm always has a speaker come to these functions. Why, I don’t know but someone as good looking as that couldn’t be that bad. I was told not to be fooled by his good looks but when he glanced my way I couldn’t resist giving him my sexiest smile. He sauntered over and it was seconds later I realized what a huge mistake I had made.

“Hello little lady! THEY CALL ME Little Bob back home because I’m so tall. Get a load of that eh? Never made sense to me either but there you go. No telling for some folk. It’s some pretty back home though and fun? We have the wildest parties you could imagine.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” I thought to myself. “Now how am I going to dump him fast?”

Little Bob rambled on, “Yep after the hogs are fed, cows milked, chicken coup cleaned, barns done, were all sweatin’ like pigs ourselves when we sit down to the finest breakfast you’d ever want to eat. Eggs, bacon, bread, left over spuds, and onions all fried and swimming in pork fat and then it’s back out to clean up more slop and fence mending.”

“WOW, THAT’S FACINATING! (YAWN)” I totally lied.

“Gee is he totally real?” My mind was going a mile a minute but then I CAN’T SAY I WASN’T WARNED but who would believe someone like him would be invited to an occasion like this. It just wasn’t right for a guy to be so good looking to sound and be right out in left field. Oh dear Lord, he’s still looking at me and ready to start again.

He went on and on about his family and their wild parties back home, wherever that was.

“Then he said, “I’m leaving again tomorrow and I’ve been invited FROM HERE TO HOBOKEN to stop and talk with new folks along the way. Mighty hospitable wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, absolutely,” catching myself before he realized I wasn’t paying attention. “I’ll by you a one way ticket myself if I thought you’d leave me alone,” I said to myself, “and I SHAVED MY LEGS FOR THIS? I’ll brain Donna when she gets here. Where the devil is she anyway, she’s over an hour late.”

No, I mean, WOW, THAT’S FACINATING (YAWN again) everything you’ve been telling me. I was just noticed the time and I forgot my poor cat. She’s very fussy if she doesn’t eat regularly, so I’ll have to excuse myself and leave now.”

“WELL I’VE HEARD BETTER EXCUSES from my boy friend when he comes home drunk at night than what I just said.”

“Well it sure was nice meetin’ and talking to you and I sure hope we meet again sometime.”

“Yeah right, that will be the day.” I mumbled as I head for the door and thinking of my gorgeous dress and getting all dolled up. “What a waste of an evening!”

I walked in my front door and realized he hadn’t given his speech yet. Thank goodness. HOBOKEN indeed!!

That was my first and last due with that firm.

They call me Howard Dean. I was running for president and campaigning from here to Hoboken. I was hoping to make a good showing…after all…I shaved my legs for this! People told me that I really needed to avoid going to a lecture at the Ann Coulter Fan Club. It had to be done, so I made my appearance and told them what my plans were. I had one person up front tell me, “I’ve heard better excuses from my son when he tells me he wants a raise in his allowance.” I thought to myself, “I can’t say I wasn’t warned.” So I told her,

“Not only are we going to New Hampshire, little lady, we’re going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and we’re going to California and Texas and New York … And we’re going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan, and then we’re going to Washington, D.C., to take back the White House! Byaaah!!!”

After my little rant, she looked at me and said, “WOW, that’s fascinating!!” (yawn)

They call me Irving. My reputation stretches from here to Hoboken. Songs have been written about me, tales have been told of me. I am the 142nd fastest gun in the west.

Having lost most of my money on a crooked game of Monte, and being a pretty poor outlaw, I decided to take my reputation on the road. Billy Day’s travelling carnival came by Tuscon one day and I found myself taking on a job with him. For three dollars a week, I would sit in a sideshow tent and tell the story of my legendary battle with “Corky-no thumbs”, the FORMER 143rd fastest gun in the west, to dozens of paying customers. Now, thanks to me, he was pushing up daisies in boot hill. I had my own trailer with “Irving” painted bright red on the outside so all the enthralled masses would know where to find me. Just in case they missed it, Billy Day himself came over and hawked me up so everyone could hear.

“Ladies and Gentleman, cowpokes of all ages, come see the legendary Irving! The ESTABLISHED 142nd fastest gun in the west!! Hear about his infamous duel with Corky No thumbs!! Pull up a crate and sit a spell!” Billy Day was proud to have me.

I remember the day the whole thing started to unravel. I woke up on a typical morning, excercised my jaw in preparation of a day full of telling the Corky story again, when I heard a “thump” from ouside the trailer. I opened the door and there was little Tommy Jenkins, 14 years old, painting “big dumb dumb” over the name “Irving” on my trailer. I was mad, I tell you!

“Tommy Jenkins, what the Sam Hell are you doing?!”

“Uhh..I was practing my letters like ma told me too!”

“I’ve heard better excuses from slow five year olds, boy! You’re lucky you’re the 139th fastest gun in the west, or I’d learn you a thing or two!”

From there the day went down hill. The first group of people who came to hear me were in an extra cantankerous mood. I tried to give my “Corky no-thumbs” story extra dramatic flair, even adding a few tense moments that hadn’t even existed, but at the end the commentary that greeted me was less than enthusiastic.

“WoW, that’s fascinating!!” (yawn). (that from the Tuscon preacher)

“I shaved my legs for this?!” (that from a fat old man in denim)

“I can’t say I wasn’t warned about being ripped off.” (that last comment from my mother)

So it was that three weeks into my association with Billy Day, and nine dollars richer, I cut ties with his traveling carnival.

I saddled up my mule, kissed my mother goodbye (though she didn’t deserve it) and rode west. My search for the new 143rd fastest gun now continues……

(I wasn’t sure where I was going with this either. I just love the song about Irving and felt like taking a peek at a moment in his life….lol. Have mercy on me)

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