“Oh, Thurgood,” said Cassidy with tons and tons of love in her voice. “I can’t wait to get you alone and in the dark so that I may become naked. You too.”
“That’s right, honey crumpet,” said the extremely talented genius. “Then we may construct large quantities of love with our bodies. Naked.”
“You’re ever so much more studlier than that man to whom I used to cling like a lovestruck barnacle,” admitted Cassidy. She was not lying. Thurgood could see this in her eyes and on her stunningly lippy lips. Her cheeks were also coated with some form of sparkly dust, which made her prettier still. “In fact, I wish to help you bring about his destruction. Shall we take the steam-powered autobuggy that you crafted with your own prodigiously dexterous hands, or shall we travel on one of your pretty horses. They are prettier than Buck’s horses. By far. Buck’s horses have fleas and they smell very badly.” Cassidy swooned, and the very handsome Thurgood caught her just in time.
“Dang, I’m fast,” he remarked to her face, which had its eyes closed because she was happy. “As a matter of fact, why don’t we have a small morsel of sex to celebrate the truth of this fact?” said Thurgood, making an excellent suggestion. He slapped Cassidy roughly about the face to wake her from her temporary coma. She awoke and smiled vacuously up into Thurgood’s excessively handsome visage.
“Yes. YES!” she said, and took off her corset.
Thurgood, who also looked very good without clothes on, tugged loose his $#@Ac—
The sound of a warning klaxon bit into Thurgood Bastardson’s concentration like a vindictive goat, bringing his typing to a literally crashing halt. Grimacing, he separated the jammed hammers and let them fall back. He ripped the paper from the roller of his typewriter, balled it up and threw it into a corner.
“Curses, blast, and a thousand more curses!” he roared into the throat of his cave. His voice echoed around the dank stone labyrinth like evil balls of wax on the pitching deck of a ship bound for Heck. “The fairday celebrations have commenced! The townsfolk, the blasted stupid townsfolk! They’ll be out there, poking rabbits and frowning thoughtfully at cows. The frivolity! It makes my evil hackles become hackly!” He checked his pocket for his can opener and stomped over to his elevator.
* * *
* * *
Miles away, under the dreaming sky of a sunny September afternoon, Buck and Cassidy were laughing at the bunnies.
“Oh, Buck! Look at the darling white one here! See how pink his little nose is?” Cassidy crooned, poking a dainty finger into the rabbit’s cage. The animal was contentedly licking her fingertip.
“Aye, fair lady,” Buck agreed, patting her on the shoulder. “Almost red, like the center of a bullseye.” He secretly wished he had his rifle with him. “But take care that yon beastie doesn’t chew upon thy prettily manicured ladyclaws,” he gently chided.
“Oh, you’re such a practical manly man!” Cassidy laughed. She punched Buck playfully in the eye. “I want to go look at the ducks! Come with me,” she said, and gathered up her skirts. Buck chuckled to himself and followed. “Are you gazing longingly at my hypnotically swaying buttocks?” Cassidy asked with a giggle, looking back over her shoulder.
“Sure am!” said Buck with enthusiasm, and ran headfirst into a cow.
“This is the best Saturday ever!” declared Cassidy, prancing onward.
Buck picked himself up from the floor of the barn and dusted the straw off his man patties. He let loose a Snort of Studly Glee, and hurried after his darling.
They emerged from the bunny barn hand in hand, and walked leisurely along the gravel path that led to the ducks.
“It was ever such a good idea to come to the fair today, Buck,” said Cassidy with feeling. She clung to his muscular and lightly scarred forearm. “Those bunnies were adorable, the hayride was delightful, and I do believe there’ll be pie over at Old Man Grizzlebum’s place.”
“You forgot the goats, stickylips,” said Buck, and pinched her where the pinching was good.
“Ow! My elbow, you silly brute!”
“Yes, I did forget the goats, didn’t I?” Cassidy admitted, pouting.
“Deee-licious,” said Buck, licking his muscular and lightly scarred lips.
Further ruminations on the deliciousness of the goats or the adorability of the bunnies were cut short. A cloud of dust had risen before the duck pens, obscuring them. The sounds of shouting men, laughing children and enraged quacking filled the air.
“By the spirit of scruff! Some bandit means to upset the fairday frivolity by ducknapping the ducks! Only one man would sink to such depths of craftery!” Buck shouted at the dust. His brow furrowed and his jaw set, he plunged into the cloud, dragging Cassidy along in his wake.