Ever wondered what happens when a charming mischief-maker crosses paths with a hapless cigar salesman in the wild, wild west? Buckle up and get ready for a roller-coaster of an adventure as we follow the delightful exploits of Luke Maglue, our very own Kansas troublemaker, and Saddler, our unwitting cigar merchant, in a town that's as mysterious as it is dusty. We promise you'll be hooked, tickled and utterly enthralled as you navigate a world of stolen cigars, saloon shenanigans, and empty streets.
Our story unfolds in the Lady Gay Saloon, a lively hotspot for those looking for a good smoke and a better tale. Just when Saddler thinks he’s in for a normal day of cigar selling, he’s swept up in a whirlwind of intrigue and hilarity, with Luke at the very center. This episode is a riotous romp through saloons and sheriff offices, filled with suspense, humor, and unexpected twists that’ll keep you guessing. So, pull up a chair, light up a cigar, and join us for this enthralling journey into the heart of the old west. And remember, things aren't always as they seem. Even in the wild, wild west!
The story you are about to hear is fictitious. The character and portions of the story are based on historical accounts. The story is told the way it might occur through the realization of the times and from the perceptiveness of the character. My name is Luke Maglue, better recognized in southwest Kansas as a mischief maker. Most people who know me say I show immense charisma. I have a gift of putting a smile on a man's face, and when a man disagrees with me, I just turn on me elegance, with selected wit and a smile. The other thing I do in life turns out in my favor. An important man surround me, hoping some of my sparkles might rub off on him. I have this keen ability to spin a web of fascination around everyone who employs my humor. I'm a real charmer. I'm creative too. I'm good at playing out the abstracted confusion. In the same way, a midget is good at being sharp. It occurred a few months later when a traveling cigar salesman from St Joseph, missouri, came to Dodge City. The saloons were full this day as several new herds were being loaded onto the cattle cars. The Texas cowboys were causing quite a ruckus, so I decided to join in on the fun. I was sitting on the front part of the Lady Gay Saloon when the afternoon stagecoach pulled into Dodge. The stage door opened and I recognized a gentleman dressed in a black tailored suit. He painfully stepped down onto the hard packed earthen street waiting for the driver to toss down his overcoat and six big boxes Stiffly. He walked up the street along the wooden plank, a walkway connecting each building to its neighbor. From where I was sitting I noticed he carried with him six boxes of cigars all stacked on top of each other. Holding him like a cradled baby in his arms, I jumped off the bench, raced ahead of him and offered to open the double hinged doors at a saloon. I opened the doors for him so he could avoid much attention to himself and the cigars he carried. The salesman thanked me and introduced himself as Saddler. Saddler the salesman, I taught to myself as I assisted him to one of the back rooms at a saloon. This is going to be a glorious day, I said to Saddler, a fabulous day indeed. Saddler the salesman laid out several boxes of these cigars to have them inspected by the local men about town.
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I went into the main saloon and made sure every man was invited to see this spectacular display of cigars. Each man pressed through the display area of the sample room For a small price. Even a few of the dancehall girls tried out one or two of the subtleties. I, of course, purchased one cigar and began smoking it. I took larger than normal puffs. This caused the end of the cigar to glow like a cinder. These huge, proportionate drags made me look like a chimney stack of a locomotive as the smoke swirled favorably above the top of my hat. I even coughed a few times as the smoke in the room thickened around me. In fact, within ten minutes the entire room became so thick with smoke that no one dared to enter and most had left the room in fear of suffocation. After the room cleared, only the salesman remained. He brushed the air around him. This caused worlds of smoke to pass from his room and out into the saloon.
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A man who entered the saloon from the outside witnessed the enormous smoke bloom and shouted Someone should ring the fire bell. This place is burning up in hell. The man's voice sounded like someone forgot to grease the wagon. He then ran out into the boardwalk, dipped his hat in a water barrel and ran back into the saloon. The man ran across the saloon to the location of the smoke and, with one giant toss of his ten-gallon hat, baptized a smoke-filled room with water. Sadler then appeared. Decide if him caused Raar as a laughter to echo throughout the saloon. Dary stood dripping in his water-soaked, fine black suit with a half-broken cigar dangling from his lips. Laughter looked like the hind quarters of bad luck. He was angry, confused and somewhat perplexed when one man yelled out hey Tipster, you look like you've just been through a thunderstorm. The smoke soon cleared.
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The salesman re-entered the drenched room and discovered all the boxes of his cigars was nowhere to be seen. The emotions rushed over him. He cried out for his bygone cigars. Sadler had become so overwhelmed with emotions that these sensations got the best of me. It's like he was going over his financial bank account in a way that you make deposits by proactively doing things that build trust or withdrawals by reactively doing things that decrease the level of trust. It broke my heart to think Sadler has lost his trust in me. I left the saloon in both great sorrow and happiness. I stepped out onto the boardwalk, reached inside my vest, pulled from my shirt pocket, one of the finest cigars ever made. I struck up a match and lit the cigar as I overheard the cigar salesman yellin' for the sheriff. I took a puff from the cigar, smiled to myself, stepped out into the darkness of the street and walked away from the lady gay saloon. I found a comfortable bench on the other side of the tracks. This was in clear sight of where I could see Sadler make his way to the sheriff's office.
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Sadler gently ran past the post office and looked into the windows as he passed. He didn't see anyone who moved about inside. He reached for the darnab at the post office, turned the handle and was taken by surprise. He's surprised to find not only the post office unoccupied, but all its stars were left unlocked. Oh hell, this ain't right. He audibly exclaimed. Turnin' from the post office, he made swift headway to the sheriff's office. Sadler arrived at the blockhouse structure at the sheriff's office, turned the darnab and swung the door inward to the sound of a set of squeaky but well-maintained hinges that announced his arrival. He hesitated to allow the noise from the door to clear and stuck his head inside the sheriff's office and shouted hey, anybody home? He yelled Sheriff, you all in here. The silence was the response. Sadler could figure out there was nothing farther to do other than to step inside and wait for the sheriff.
Speaker 1:
I poofed on my cigar with amusement when I observed Sadler enter the sheriff's office. Bat Masterson, the deputy sheriff about his time, walked up and settled in beside me. Bat relaxed on the bench with ease and comfort. He raised both his legs up, leaned back against the bench and rested his boot heels on the hitch and passed in front of us. Masterson then pulled from his vest pocket a very fine brand of cigar, glanced over at me and asked if I had a match. I continued to look with amusement.
Speaker 1:
I could see Sadler through the kerosene lit window at the sheriff's office. There he sat wrenching his hands in a nervous fashion, waiting impatiently for the sheriff to arrive. Bat wiped his hand across his eyes in order to sharpen his focus and glanced over in the direction of the office. Do you happen to know the man sitting in my office chair? Bat asked yes, he's a cigar salesman. His name is Sadler and he considered himself a connoisseur. A fine tobacco, I replied. Hmm, responded Bat. I wonder if he has any cigars like these to sale? Bat took a deep drag from the cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring in the direction of his office. The smoke ring travelled outward and encased the cigar salesman image. Like bat, it smoked glass of demand from the distance we set from the jail. I glanced over in the direction of Bat and in a solemn tone, bat said it looks as if this man is in real agony. And here we sit observing this fellow with elation. Yep, I agree, bats. I said Tonight our soul remains perfect, even in the bosom of this sucker.
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Back at the Sheriff's office, no one greeted the salesman. The place was empty. The salesman walked over and opened the front door, peered outside and stepped onto the wooden walkway. The silence and emptiness of the street once again greeted him. Aw, come on now, he exclaimed. What in Sam Hill is going on here? Starting up the street, he stepped into a pile of horse dung, fresh horse dung. How in the hell did that end up here if they ain't got no horses here about? This is plain retarded. Swinging around in a full circle and near panic, he again discerned a completely deserted town. No horses, only dung. No wagons, just tracks, no people, just unlocked doors. This ain't right. Not right at all, he plainly told himself.
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The salesman then decided to return to the Lady Gay Saloon. Defeated and frustrated with the conditions at a town. Saddler stepped up onto the wood-planked walkway which leads back to the Lady Gay Saloon. He clomped up to the bat-winged doors. He cocked his head inside the door before entering and listened for any sounds coming from inside the saloon. Gradually he swung the doors open. The saloon was full of smiling cigar smokers. The gentlemen smokers all grinned and praised the salesman for his fine cigars. When Sheriff Masterson arrived he inquired about the stolen cigars. He asked who gave those cigars to you fellers? Everyone in the room all answered in unison Luke Mughlu. The salesman and the sheriff went into every saloon in business and no one could find Luke Maglue. Music playing, music playing.