In the stunned silence following the gunshot and the ensuing shout, the door slammed open and in walked a rather disheveled looking chap in a Bailey hat and dun coloured coat shedding the rain from outside.  He had a big red beard that would have dominated his face if not for his piercing blue eyes.

He took a few steps into the bar and stopped in his tracks.  He blinked at all the silent inhabitants for a few seconds before opening his mouth.

"Wassamatter with all you guys?"  

After he didn't get a response he grimaced and shambled over to the bar and took a stool two down from the end stool which was occupied by some old british chap.

"Beer please barkeep..." It took the newcomer a few minutes to notice that there was no one behind the bar.  "Where the hell?"  He said, turning on his stool squinting around the room.  Suddenly he pointed up and shouted.  "There's a dude hanging from the rafters!"

At that point the old timer on the end bench turned started chuckling and shaking his head as he turned to the newcomer.  He started talking to his companion in a thick British accent: "My dear man, how is that the first thing you notice in this pub?"

"I noticed other things!  Like where is the bartender, man?"

"O'Shea?  He somehow ended up over at the poker table with a smoking gun."

The man in question shook his head as if waking himself and stood up.  "Sorry boys... I thought it would have a flag come out the end.  I really did."

The Frenchman who had taken a seat at the other end of the bar turned and laughed.  "You do have a flag."  Sly looked down and his gun did have a flag sticking out of the end , but it was a Fleurdelisé.  The gun fell out of Sly's numb fingers, rattling on the table as it landed.

"What the... what happened"?"  He looked over toward what was left of the band.  The pink mist had dissipated somewhat, but the drummer was wiping his face and getting up to run to the bathroom.

"Our friend in the rafters had an overeager imagination.  He has a powerful mind, but one cannot be blamed for not enjoying that many missed notes in a row.  I am just as happy for the noise to stop."  At that the Frenchman turned around, and then looked back over his shoulder at the stunned bartender.  "Now would you get back where you belong and get me a bottle of Maudite?"

"Now yer talking!" said the newcomer.  "And after you get him his bottle I want a pint of Alexander Keith's."

With that Sly (O'Shea) shrugged and came around to the correct side of the bar and handed the Quebec Slayer his bottle, and began pouring for the red beard in the hat that looked toward him eagerly.  

"Glad to see your a fan, O'Shea.  Do you have a TV in this joint so i can watch the highlights?"

"Fan..." It was then that O'Shea looked down and noticed he was in an Edmonton Oilers Jersey and a ball cap that was signed by Ethan Moreau.

"Always good to meet a fellow fan.  My name's Bucknuk, Mr O'Shea."

Mackenzie chuckled again, "Seems our boy in the rafters isn't the only one with imagination."

With that a TV popped up behind the bar showing highlights of that night's hockey game which just happened to an Oilers' victory of the Calgary Flames.

"Now that is what I am talking about."  said Bucknuk just before he took a long pull on his lager.  "mmm... good beer..."  Then he gestured to the ceiling, saying: "And get the Dude up there a drink on me.  He seems to be a little high strung."

"For that matter... get a drink for everyone on me.  I am feeling good tonight."

"no doubt." said Mackenzie, chuckling again at the end of the bar.

The End

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