BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SALOON SALLY SINGS
By Christine M. Butler
The stench of
laser-burned flesh tickles your nose as you inform the Sheriff that you will
get everything taken care of. You look down at the still-burned figure before
you, and bow once more, assuring the Sheriff again that the alien will be all
right until you can get back.
You step out into the
late afternoon sun, feeling it bake your skin as you take in a few gulps of
searing hot air. It is hot as a whorehouse on nickel night. Not exactly the
refreshing feeling you’d hoped for, but better than smelling the remnants of
laser-blasted tentacles. You take the folded up piece of paper out of your
pocket, and notice the flourish of dainty script that could only have come from
a woman’s hand.
Doc,
You are the first of your kind I’ve seen in some time.
I wasn’t sure, at first, if I could trust you. Now, I’m running out of time. I
need your help, before they find me, and before the towns folk here realize
what I am. Please, you are my last hope.
Maggie has kindly given me a temporary sanctuary in
the church attic, but I won’t be there long.
~Sally
You
re-read the letter twice more, not quite sure what to make of it. There was a
time “your kind” might have meant the skin you’d chosen to walk among the
inhabitants of this planet. What they called “natives” were still unwelcome
most places, but you’d managed to settle in just fine anyway. After your talk
with the Sherriff, you’re not sure how many people you actually fooled with
your disguise though. You find a small bit of peace in understanding that the
big bub himself knows what you are, and he hasn’t run you out, or strung you up
yet. It gives you hope. You take a moment to consider your options, but the
conjured image of saloon songstress Sally puts your croaker thoughts to rest.
There was always something captivating about her, even if you didn’t fall under
the same spell everyone else seemed to when she cranked up her pipes.
You
head to the church to go appease your own curiosity. Dust settles thick on your
boots as you walk. Rain is long overdue in these parts, and doesn’t appear to
be on the horizon in the near future. You watch as a horse out front of the
Hotel Grand takes a piss in the road. It’s the first thing you notice as you
amble back towards the church. As you get closer, Maggie, the preacher’s wife,
is peeking out of the curtains of the little shack she shares with her husband.
You tip your hat slightly, and she flutters away.
You
don’t even hesitate as you approach the church, taking that first step up,
heading to the door. That is when you realize your mistake. “Dad-blame it!” You
curse under your breath. The paint on the steps is still wet, and now your boot
print is there for all to see. You backtrack and walk around to the side of the
church where the preacher’s door is. You jiggle the handle, and find it’s been
locked. You are hot, tired, and just about to give up, turn around, and head
back to the shop when the lock clicks over. The door cracks just enough for a
set of bright green eyes to peek out.
“Ma’am.”
You tilt your head in her direction, noting the trail of fiery red curls that
that pop into view.
“Quick.”
Sally throws the door open and reaches for your arm, dragging you inside before
slamming the rickety wooden door shut again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She
keeps walking, and you follow her. Sally reaches up to grasp the catch on the
attic door, and pulls it down to reveal a makeshift set of stairs. As Sally
ascends, you can’t help but notice and appreciate her curvy figure. When she
sits on the floor at the top of the stairs to swing her legs up and over, you
politely look away until she gives you the all clear. You proceed to follow her
up into the small attic space where you must stay hunched over in order to
avoid knocking your head on the rafters.
You
take out the paper that the barman slipped you earlier. “Sally, I’m not sure…”
She
cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. “Shh.” Her finger finds its
way to hover over your lips as she speaks. “We don’t have time. I got word this
morning. There are men coming to take me away, and I need your help to get out
of here.”
“I’m
not sure what I can do for you.” You tell her honestly.
“I’m
not what I appear to be, and neither are you.” Her gritty accent is lost from
her voice as she speaks. “My father is the same as you.” Your eyes widen just a
bit as she continues her story. “He came to our town on a mission to blend,
learn, and see if this place could work for his kind. I don’t think anyone ever
thought of mixing with the humans here, but my father met my mom and he fell in
love.”
Sally
was looking off into the distance seeing another time and place unfold before
her. You stand there, patiently waiting for her to finish. “She knew, of
course. It’s hard to hide when your kind gets…” Sally bites her lip, and you
can’t take your eyes off her mouth as she does. “Excited.” She finishes with a
blush in her cheeks.
“Anyway,
everything was fine for them. No one ever knew our two species could reproduce
together, but apparently it works. I’m proof. The humans in our town never suspected.
I grew up normal with no outward signs of tentacles.” Sally blushes again as
she holds up her hands. “My fingers change if I’m angry, or I need the suction
for things.” She demonstrates, and you are flabbergasted as her fingers turn to
wavy tentacles before your very eyes. You know, now, that her story must be
true. “I was set to marry Biff Jenkins not long ago, but there was an
emergency. My mom’s Uncle Jeb, the town drunk, fell off his bar stool and
knocked his head in pretty good. They went to get mom, since she has some
knowledge of medicine. Well, she and dad were in an intimate position when
Harvey Dingle, the deputy, burst in on them. Harvey saw what happens when your
kind is excited, and he ran blabbing his mouth.”
Sally
grabs your hand, pleading to you with her eyes. “They hanged my daddy. Hanging
doesn’t kill your kind though, and he managed to escape while the town drank
themselves stupid in celebration. I’m not sure what happened to momma, because
I was forced to run too. Biff, my fiancé, has been trying to track me down ever
since. I got wind that he caught my trail again, and he’s headed here now.”
You
take everything in and let out a deep sigh. “You want me to get you out of town
before he shows up?”
“Please!”
The urgency in her tone makes her angelic voice crack. Sally grasps your hands
in hers to add to her plea. Just as you are about to agree anyway, you hear
several sets of hooves approaching outside at a fast pace. “Oh, no!” Sally
yelps. It’s your turn to put a finger on her plump, rosy lips.
“Shh,
I know just what to do, sweet Sally.”
You have a choice to make.
You have a choice to make.
Well played, Christine. Lovin' your work.
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