Season TWO – Episode 17 – “DARK SHADOWS”

“Here… Use this hunk of bison meat. It should draw down the swelling.” Cinnamon offered.

Rusty lay flat on the floor as she bent down and offered a generous portion of the bloody beast. Tough to focus with both eyes swollen… He grabbed with both hands for the raw meat by swinging his arms like sticks at a pinata.

“Or possibly this would feel better.” And Cinnamon advanced by leaning in further proposing her generous cleavage to his increasingly swelling eyeballs. Rusty was thunderstruck as her breasts cast “dark shadows” over what might come to fruition if he acted on his immediate thought.

Then before he could say “Thanks, no thanks” she was straddled on top of him, with considerable force, as if wrestling a steer. Short the part where cowboys and cowgirls generally do NOT attempt to stick their tongues down the throats of their lassoed captures! This was getting weird.

For Rusty… The famed “roll technique” of the learned STOP-DROP-ROLL was of no use in his present situation. This gal had fence posts for quads, and she wasn’t backing off anytime soon.

Roll Rusty… Roll Rusty… Roll Rusty… He continued to encourage himself. Nope. Not happening.

Her mouth (tongue included) tasted like wintergreen, and he began to dry-heave. Through the haze of his black eyes… Again, tough to decipher, he could barely make out the shape of her breasticals, but there appeared to be a protrusion in her lower lip (Skoal Long Cut).

Round-ten ultimately came to an end with a knock on the door. It was Ron Heimburg and Geoff Loonsuckle, checking in on their protégé. Cinnamon was fast to escape out the third-floor window leaving only Rusty to fend for himself, sprawled on the floor, hands lassoed behind his back

     “Boy, you look like ya been pulled through a jackrabbit hole,” exclaimed Ron.

     “Musta been quite a wrastlin’ match in here!”  added Geoff. “Who was she?”

Blood flow came back to his wrists as the knotted brazier was cut loose with a Buck 110 Folding Hunter Knife. Rusty discretely kept Cinnamon’s name from the story (nice girl but WILD) and explained to Ron and Geoff how his plan to flare-up Sally and Ellie in the Anglers Lounge had misfired.

Come to think of it… He also kept Jackie Loonsuckles name at bay… Even though HE was the horse’s ass responsible for these TWO black eyes. Who are these LOONSUCKLES?!?! Regardless, the known “Plan-A” was now being restructured to “Plan-B”.

Ron and Geoff encouraged Rusty by telling him to “Get yourself showered up and let’s get down to the dining hall. There’s still time to get this horse back on the trail.” He needed either Sally or Ellie (or both) to be on “TEAM-RUSTY”, but the clock continued to click with a much-needed decision per his offer from Professor Cosmoid Scale.

Entering the restaurant portion of the lodge, tonight’s dinner (by the planning of Ron and Geoff) was more formal than normal. The guest’s tables had been gathered, arranged in one long banquet style, and there were name cards forward of each dining seat.

Rusty was late to arrive and managed his way to a table with the assistance of a hostess. Swollen eyes or not he was seated directly across from Sally and Ellie. To his immediate right, and already into a salad, was Archer Sting.

On his left there was a blurry place card with an unoccupied seat. That was until he felt someone brush against his shoulder, remove the card from the table, and plop down uncomfortably close to his personal space.

The name on the card had been foggy… But he was one-hundred-percent positive it did NOT read CINNAMON LOONSUCKLE! Ugh…

Realizing he would have to audible out of “Plan-B”, Rusty immediately began to hyperventilate. The world was officially off its axis. He intentionally dropped his napkin to the floor, in an effort to bend at the waist and calm his breathing, but first he had to remove Cinnamon’s hand from his thigh.

Breath in… Breath out… Breath in… Breath out… Rusty wanted to change his residency to “living under the table”. That was until he glanced across the seats from underneath and was sure, no let’s make that certain, he could see Sally and Ellie holding hands!

Nope! No longer want to live under here… And with that he shot up from below the table, thankfully cranking the back of his noggin on the table’s edge, further blurring the image of what he had just witnessed.

Game… Set… Match… “Plan-B” was out the usual window. Sally and Ellie sat inconspicuously, nibbling on their hot-honeyed sweet potato salads, hand holding like two teenagers on a first date. In the interim, Cinnamon was all over him like a fly on a key lime cream pie. Sting neglectfully offered zero assistance. Yep. That was Rusty’s tournament. Over!

How had he become so invisible to the two most important women in his world. These were the same two women that presently sat mere feet across from him at the dining table. Was there a laser field or shield around him blocking their vision? No… That couldn’t be the case… Cinnamon had clearly sought him out and found him accessible.

Maybe he would have to move on without either of the two loves of his life.  But there was still a cast to be made… Once last lure to be chucked from the cheap seats. Immediately he couldn’t think of what to use for bait, because below the table someone’s hand was incessantly rubbing his thigh.

Post dinner… There were “dark shadows” outside the dining hall as guests excused themselves from the banquet table. “Sally… Ellie… Congrats on your big fish today.” Rusty offered in parting. “Sting showed me the footage. Pretty awesome. Looked like quite the fish.”

And with that… He pushed himself away from the table making gaited strides toward the exit. Cinnamon dragging along on the floor, both arms wrapped around one of his ankles, and sparks flying from her spurs.

–            To Be Continued –