Campfire Confrontation

It was a clear night. A half-moon gave a faint glow over the shrubby Mexican countryside, with the stars providing a miniscule amount of illumination. At the center of a copse of trees, Dundee and his men were camped at night, with several men on picket duty a short way away.

The men were just lounging around, not doing anything in particular. Dundee was looking over a map of Mexico; Potts and Ben trying to sleep (Michelle was on picket duty); Mark writing in his diary; Garfer and his men were practicing using their hockey sticks; Joe Starbuck was going around, inspecting the pickets and the perimter; Plasmotic Snake and Grenouille sit quietly under a small tree; Mr. Smit and Frisco cleaning their rifles; the Gorches, having a go with Herpes Girl; Tim, inspecting the horses; Sondra and Bill chatting quietly; Peacemaker, playing on a harmonica; and Mr. Stubb was cooking a big heaping pot of Spaghetti-O's - having forgotten the ingredients for his killer beef stew.

Joe Starbuck walked into camp and complemented his Canadian colleagues on their conduct. As he walked into the center of the camp he was given a small bowl of Spaghetti-O's by Stubb. He sat eagerly on a small rock, and then saw that the O's contained not a single meatball.

"Boy. . . boy, I'm speaking to you!"

At first, this call echoed through the camp, but no one was sure who had said it, or to whom it was addressed. Then Garfer, turning away from his men, saw Tom.

Tom was a bigoted, nationalistic member of the command. Nominally he was a "real-life" person, but Dundee had no particular affinity - or direct authority - over him. Now he sat, his feet grotesquely outstretched towards Garfer.

"You're forgettin' your manners, Canuck," he sneered.

At this slur against his nationality, Garfer bristled and put down his hockey stick. He instinctively began reaching for his sidearm, but fought it off, and slowly began advancing towards his antagonist.

"Come on over here and pull off my boots."

At this, Garfer looked at Dundee, who seemed passive about the whole thing. Now the whole camp's attention was rivetted on the confrontation. Joe Starbuck finally got up and tried to walk into harm's way.

"Joe. . . check the pickets," Dundee said softly. After a moment's hesitation, Starbuck walked off.

"Did you hear me, boy?" Tom asked Garfer. "Do it boy, now!"

Garfer was about to beat the shit out of his antagonist when Reverend Armstrong went over to Tom. "Let me, son," he said to Garfer, roughly pulling off one of Tom's boots.

Tom fell to the ground and drew his knife. After a brief scuffle, the Reverend ended up on the ground, bleeding. Tom, grinning evilly, turned to plunge his knife into Armstrong, who picked up the nearest available weapon - his unabridged pocket version of the New Testament - and swacked Tom on the side of the head. Tom fell backwards, knocking over the pot of Spaghetti-O's.

"My O's!" Stubb roared. Before anyone else could move, Stubb moved his massive bulk towards Tom and threw him out of the way, then he began rushing towards Armstrong. Armstrong threw a lucky punch - it was only that - and the giant Stubb fell backwards, landing face-first in the scalding hot soup.

"MY FACE!" Stubb screamed. The pasta and tomato sauce burnt his face, until Alex Starbuck rushed on the scene with a fire extinguisher to cool off Stubb. Some of the command thought this was amusing, but Stubb got up for another round with Armstrong after this.

Trying to stop the fight from escalating any further, Tector Gorch, emerging from his tent, grabbed Tom and threw him at Stubb's feet. "You started it," he said, "now finish it."

"No, we're gonna finish it!" said Dave Jenkins. Despite his painful knee injury, Jenkins was still game for mischief. He had his long knife drawn, and began advancing on Armstrong. "By doggies, preacher, now we're gonna get in line for you!"

"I'm gonna cut a piece out of you first!" exclaimed Lyle Gorch.

At this, Sergeant Cullen stepped behind Armstrong and said, "You online trash, sit down!"

At this, Tector stood up, his gun drawn. "Was you talkin' to me, Sergeant?" he said to Cullen. "Now maybe you dunno it, but you're a-fixin' to get tried."

At this, Tim began walking into camp. Mark grabbed a cavalry carbine; Garfer and his men wielded their deadly hockey sticks and began moving in. Dundee still sat, passive, on the sidelines.

"You, and the rest of you real-lifers," Tector finished.

At this, most everyone in the camp began reaching for their weapon. Potts aimed his shotgun carefully at Tector; Stubb grabbed his revolver off the ground; Sondra ducked for cover as Bill pulled out his rifle. Every man and woman, it seemed, started reaching for their gun. . .

"TROOPER!"

Tim shouted out, and then slowly walked over to Garfer.

"Mr. Garfer," he said slowly, "I am - we would like to compliment you and your men for your spirited rendition of 'O Canada' at the river crossing this afternoon."

Garfer looked at Tim for a long moment before answering. "Thank you, sir," he finally said.

Tim smiled slightly, then walked back past his own men. The situation was defused, for now. Dundee walked after him.

"Nice work, buddy," Dundee said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Is that all?" Tim said.

"What more is there for me to say?" Dundee asked. "You want some intricately-written, ham-acted speech about what I see as your place?'

"Well. . ."

"You're an online cavalier," Dundee rejoindered. "You're an Internet chatter fighting for a high-speed connection you never had and you never will."

Tim looked at Dundee. "How exactly - how exactly do you see yourself - Groggy Dundee? Have you ever stopped to consider why you spend all your time online, instead of with a girlfriend?"

Groggy stared at Tim for a moment, then walked off.

Back at the camp, everyone was calmed for the moment. A coyote howled in the distance. Stubb, his face still smarting, looked at the spilt Spaghetti-O's. Maybe I should've brought some Chunky Soup, he thought to himself.