“Here’s semi-automatic plasma rifle from World War XIV. You should be able vaporize 500 men with this dandy,” Rockwell explained.
I took one look at the weapon. “Why didn’t you say that you had all of this futuristic technology?” I asked.
“Well I thought that it would create all kinds of paradoxes in the space time continuum. But apparently none of that matters. Hell, being a good Irishman that I am, I got super drunk with Jesus Christ on the Last Supper and he ended up asphyxiating on his vomit. Good guy by the way, but it ended up changing nothing in the future. Peter got crucified instead. So fuck it.”
I scratched my head. “So are you from the future or past? Just what the fuck are you?”
“Stop thinking so much,” Rockwell replied, “let’s go kill some cowboys and get back to our timelines.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I don’t think I’m gonna need this plasma rifle. I got a .357 Magnum.”
“Are you some kind of dipshit? That thing’s only got six shots. We’re going against hundreds of men.”
“Have I ever told you about the time I killed the west coast mafia up in Big Bear, slaughtered an army in the jungles of Honduras, then did it again in a dormant volcano in Hawaii? This ain’t my first rodeo.”
Rockwell shook his head. “Yeah well, whatever dude. You tell me every chance you get.”
“Come on men,” J. Robert Oppenheimer ordered, “let’s ride out. With our futuristic weaponry, we should be able to handle all of Dickleburg’s men. Don’t let them get close. If it moves, kill it.”
We rode out from the Rockwell homestead into Elkhorn. Everyone was armed to the teeth; Oppenheimer, Mr. Ree, and Rockwell we’re strapped with multiple pistols, shotguns, and assorted hand grenades. Fred Ward had a Gatling gun mounted to his carriage. When we arrived at the outskirts, Fred got into position while the rest of us dismounted and marched side by side into town.
When we reached the sheriff’s office, Billy Friedkin stepped out to greet us. “Well well well,” Billy taunted, “if it ain’t Wyatt Earp and his merry men.”
Oppenheimer immediately pulled out his laser pistol and fired. Billy Friedkin exploded into a million pieces. Bits of brain matter and guts were strewn around the town square.
“Jesus Christ BOB!!!” Dickleburg screamed when he saw the bloody scene, “Chill the fuck out!!!”
Oppenheimer pointed his pistol at Dickleburg. “Do you see what happened to Billy?” he asked, “This is what we’re prepared to do to you if you don’t release my family and leave this town!”
Dickleburg raised his hands and nodded. “I think we have another misunderstanding,” he said with genuine concern, “Look, I have a proposal that will make everyone happy.”
“Release my family first,” Oppenheimer ordered.
“Alright. Alright!” Dickleburg responded. He looked back into the sheriff’s office. “Bring ‘em out!”
One of Dickleburg’s men escorted Maybelline and Malachi out into the open. “James, save us!” Maybelline screamed at me.
“As you can see Bob, your family is perfectly fine,” Dickleburg added.
“First, I want to go over our proposal.”
Oppenheimer cocked his pistol, which made a loud charging noise. “You better make it quick,” he threatened, “if you don’t, the next time I press the trigger there will be no remains to send back to your family.”
Dickleburg gave a nervous chuckle. “I make you and everyone in this town filthy rich,” he said, “and in return, my company has complete access to the mining rights of this town.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
2 thoughts on “Once Upon a Time in Montana (Part IX)”
That’s much too vulgar a display of power, Oppenheimer!
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Poor Oppenheimer. He just can’t escape his past 😔