Further Fiestaing (contribution by Beebs of the Leone Board)

After the knife fight, the fiesta continued on into Sunday. The gang was able to steal an old TV, and watched the Pittsburgh Steelers trounce the Minnesota Vikings, 18-3.

At this point, there was almost a big fight when a big, burly Mexican named Chaco tried to steal Dundee's prized shotgun. Dundee got into a shoving match with him, and this quickly escalated to a full-on tussle. Fortunately, the situation was averted without violence.

The abovementioned participants in the knife fight got drunker and drunker as the day wore on. Elsewhere, the poker game continued, with Frisco growing increasingly agitated that they refused to switch to five cards, instead of seven.
Frisco, drunk, tired, and bored, finally fell asleep, and remembered why he had come on the expedition. . .

. . . As a kid he was forced to work as a shoeshine after his father was killed by a band of motley banditos. His father had been a famous Colonel under Lee and had some trouble defending some gold during the war. After a particularly grueling battle, he had come across a family of 4. Fatherless and hopeless, they had been hiding in their barn during the battle. Among the grain was a case of coins, $10,000. Feeling sorry for the family he stayed with them that night after the battle to protect them for the few days of his leave. A group of banditos rode in and he fought them off by himself the whole night, until they knocked him unconscious and took what they could carry of the gold. But as they were leaving, the Colonel awoke, rising with much difficulty, and fired his Dragoon at the leader of the Bandits and dropped his horse, crippling him for the rest of his miserable life. Well they wanted revenge and got it, killing the poor retired Colonel. Forcing his son to work hard for his money, he learned how to shoot in the few hours after the barbershop closed in Tucumcari. He had been taught to ride by his father when he was 2 years of age. By the time he was 15 he’d killed 6 of the 8 banditos leaving the crippled leader and a second hand man for last. He was 20 when he caught up to the latter. Eight years later, he met the leader in his hotel room and shot him in the belly as he limped in. In the belly shot bandit’s dying moment, Frisco talked of his father teaching him to ride a horse until the cripple fell over with wide eyes at the memory of the Colonel. Frisco was 28 years old.

Then, Frisco smelt a nasty smell - it was the breath of Stubb, breathing old sausage meat and stale tequila into his nose.

"Wake up, you damned fool!" Stubb bellowed.

"Are we playing five-card stud?" Frisco asked groggily.

"For the last time, NO!" Stubb said to him.

Frisco stared at him momentarily, then fell back asleep on the table. Stubb couldn't stand it - he brought down the butt of his weapon next to Frisco's head.

"WAKE UP, DICKHEAD!" he screamed.

Frisco sprung awake, but couldn't stay up; he fell asleep, leaning back on his chair. Now extremely perturbed, Stubb kicked the chair out from under Frisco - he fell to the floor, and fell asleep. Stubb kicked him a few times, but it was no use - he was asleep.

Then entered Kermit, bringing a large bottle of Tequila. "More booze!" he screamed drunkenly, causing the card players to turn from the sleeping Frisco. Before any of them could get any, however, Kermit tilted his head back and swigged three-quarters of the tequila. He gave what little was left to Stubb, who finished it, causing much consternation among the players.

* * *

In the town, the French prisoners escaped from their stockade by asking very politely for the two guards - Grenouille and Walker - to be let go. They began running full speed back to their garrison for reinforcements.

* * *

Tim, meanwhile, had drank so much tequila that he could barely stand. He was in an arcade, engaged in a ferocious game of "Asteroids", while Mark the bugler and a few others look on. He was just three pathetic asteroids away from the high score. . . the sweat dripped off his head. He fired two rounds, taking out two asteroids - high score tied, one left! He wiped the sweat from his brow, and then watched in horror as an asteroid veered from the right of the screen into his space ship, causing him to be eliminated.

"Oh well, tough break," Tom, who had been patiently waiting for an hour to play, said, rushing towards the joystick.

"Son of a. . ." In the middle of a drunken fury, Tim stood there still for a minute in disbelief, then, as Tom plunked a coin into the machine, drew his revolver and emptied it into the machine. Tom stood, shocked, as the glass shattered, ruining the game.

"You bastard!" Tom screamed, lunging at him. Tim held him back with his left hand, then lined up a good, hard, right-handed punch. The punch smashed Tom's face, and blood ran down his face as he fell back from the force of the blow.

"Now get yer ass out of here," Tim screamed. He went up to his opponent, grabbed him by the chest, and heaved him into a pinball machine. Tom lay still after a moment, unconscious.

The other would-be players stood staring at Tim for a moment. It was the bugler who finally broke the silence. "What now?" he asked his cousin.

Tim stood for a moment, then reached for his flask of tequila. He took a long shot, then realized that it was empty. He stood, contemplating it for a moment, then had a revelation.

"To the bar!" Tim screamed. The other men gave a "hurrah", and they went out, looking for more booze with which to destroy their livers.