Back In Time

Sly looked at his mirror image, the man standing across from the cellar stairwell. "It's a cellar, there's nothing special about it, and you're damn straight I don't drop my consonants. Not to mention the real Sly O'Shea hates the fact that the suffix O'Shea somehow stuck once-" He pointed furiously at McKenzie "That lunatic made it up!" 

"Now now! Harsh words aren't needed." McKenzie said, sucking on his pipe still.

"I've had enough of this!" Sly continued. "I've been turned into a woman! On multiple occasions, I've been put into tight clothes that really hurt my crotch." He said, looking down at the brown slacks he now wore, remembering the pain of the blue polyester suit. " and now some bloke comes in here saying he's the real Sly O'Shea? There is no real Sly O'Shea! He doesn't exist!"

"In my world he does" McKenzie argued.

"Well this isn't your world anymore Jim! Your world's dead! Dead Jim!" He stopped for a moment, "Jeez I sound like Doc from an old Star Trek episode."

At that moment the other Sly O'Shea kicked him in the shins.

"Oww! What're you doing?"

"It's my pub damn it, you ain't takin' it.!" He said, kicking him again.

"Come on, kicking me's not helping."

"Get in the hole!" He demanded pointing in exaggeration.

"It's a cellar for Christ sake! There's an exit to the outside on the other end!" Sly lamented.

"Really?" The O'Shea asked, sticking his head down the stairs.

Sly took advantage of the moment and kicked him in the buttocks.

The imposter tumbled down the stairs, his pained cries vanishing as Sly clicked his fingers, making the entranceway disappear. He turned to the two men from Viking Press and the workers and gnarled at them.

The workers dropped their tools and quickly vacated the premisis, followed swiftly by the press representatives.

"That's better." Sly said, returning the scene to a western style setting.

McKenzie smiled, dusting off his tweed jacket as the heavy haze returned.

The women looked themselves over in shock as they were suddenly dressed in revealing Victorian dress', their torso's crushed by exposed corsets.

"Now this is what I'm talking about." Sly said, pulling the pistol from his holster and spinning it into a few tricks before skillfully replacing it to rest at his hip. "Kevichella, let's hear us a song on the piano why don't we."

"Yes sir!" He replied, tapping away at the finely tuned instrument.

"Wow." Archi said, looking down at herself. "This thing hurts."

Bella smirked, having returned to her pristine self. "Oh you'll get used to it darling, trust me."

Archi cocked an eyebrow at her in disagreement.

"So." Kellan said, tipping his bowler off his head to rest on his knee as he sat at the bar. "We've got fine women, Gemma ready to deal a game of blackjack and  some music. How much better could it get?"

Bucknuck looked himself over in his brown cotton slacks, his Oilers jersey somehow having survived the transformation. "Hell, I can live with that." He said, slapping the bar with an open hand. "Drink!"

The bearded bar tender appeared from behind the counter. "Thank god I'm not wearing them fishnet stalkings." He added, pouring the man a cold one.

Redhat came out from the washroom. "Damn it, narcotics don't exist in this era!"

The moonlit man took his chance at Blackjack with Gemma and cursed as he handed her a few coins, dealer having won.

Sly made his way to the table where the women sat. "Hello ladies." He said, tipping his hat. "May I take as seat?"

Marc moved in, "Ahem, I believe this is my seat."

"Your name written on it?"

He pointed at it and the wood peeled away, the shavings being pushed aside by some unknown force, revealing his name.

"I hate you." Sly murmured, sulking away to the bar.

"Why don't you just shoot the man?" McKenzie offered.

"Aren't you a cop?"

"Not in this era."

"Oh." Sly turned around and drew his pistol, he was about to pull the trigger when Joe stumbled into the way. "Ah, whatever, two in one." He said, grinning. He pulled the trigger, but out of the barrel came a stick, a flag unrolling with the word *Bang* written on it. "Damn, I miss my tiny revolver."

Nick picked up a fiddle from the piano and jumped in to the tune with Kevichella as Rose took Marc's hand to rise for a dance; the festivities beginning once more.


The End

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