>>5128699“Stanley!” exclaims the mayor as he runs a finger along his greased mustache, “I take it y’all enjoyed yourselves last night?”
Yea, you nod, the taste of booze still somehow lingering on the tip of your tongue, it was pretty neat!
“What she <span class="mu-i">means</span> to say, Ike,” Gramps interjects, “Is that she and her friends had <span class="mu-i">SO</span> good of a time she can hardly express it in words.” <span class="mu-i">Right</span>?”
Yea, you reply as you give Pops a grateful nod, couldn’t have said it better!
“Well that’s just swell!” The Mayortender remarks with a hearty laugh! “And er, don’t you worry none about the damages–as far as they go, that hootenanny was one of the tamer ones if ya’ can believe it!”
“Think I saw some dried blood on the ceilin’ last night…” Gramps muses with a nostalgic grin on his bony face. “One hell of a Fourth O’ July…”
Sharing a laugh, both The Marshal and Mayor shake it off quickly before turning their attention back your way. As they <span class="mu-i">should</span>!
“Anywho, Stanley, The Marshal here tells me you an’ yer’ erm, <span class="mu-i">associates</span>, conducted yourselves rather well when you went after Clayton–so much so, in fact, that we’ve agreed that <span class="mu-b">COMMENDATIONS</span> are in order!”
An eager smile creeps across your face! Hell yea, you shout! Let’s get <span class="mu-b">SHINDIG #2</span> started right now!
“Didn’t we have stuff ta’ do today?” Asks your skeleton in a mildly-annoyed tone. Well <span class="mu-i">yea</span>, you shrug, but there’s always tomorrow, right?
“Number two! <span class="mu-i">HAH</span>! Not a bad idea in the least, little lady!” Doubling over with laughter, tears start running down Ike’s face as you try to get his attention. Hey, you growl, it wasn’t a joke! You want more free drinks, old man!
The Mayor recovers shortly after Pops slaps you upside the head. OW! Wheezing despite not having any lungs, Ike dabs his face with a damp bar rag before stuffing it back into his breast pocket.
“Keep that up and you’ll be the death of me, Stan! Hoo, boy…” As he regains some of his politician’s demeanor, The mayor removes a <span class="mu-g">RUSTY OLD KEY</span> from his coat pocket. Frowning in confusion, you politely ask the skeleton just what the hell you’re looking at.
<span class="mu-s">OW!</span> Quit hitting me, Gramps!
“Watch yer’ tone, damn you! An’ quit callin’ me ‘<span class="mu-i">Gramps</span>’!”
>CONTD. 