The Great Gunsmoke Smokeout

Disclaimer: That Is Keeping Me Out Of Court: I do not own Trigun, the characters from it, the Great American Smokeout, alarm clocks, pacifiers, or anything else presented aside from my own characters or ideas. Suing isn't nice. Please don't do it, OK? *gives big puppy eyes*

 


                                           "The Fourth Day Brings A Buzz. . .Literally"

                       Wolfwood stares at the puddle of melted plastic on the table, the result of his mindlessly attempting to light a pacifier.

                       "Nicholas, what is that awful smell-" Milly stares at the table for a second. "I thought it was supposed to get better by today."

                       "Not only you. . .I can't take any more of this, honey. . .I'm so used to smokin', so addicted to it. . ."

                       The tap on the door startles both Wolfwood and Milly. "Who could that be so early in the morning? Could you get it? If it's another one of those salesmen-"

                       The priest lets out a long sigh. December City had a booming door-to-door sales business begin over the last few months, and although Milly wasn't necessarily stupid, she was too nice for their collective financial good. The closet nearest Selphie's nursery held the results of the visits of many of these people Milly had invited in for a cup of tea-everything from stacks of encyclopedias and tabloids to sand skates, from cheap glassware to a device called the Super Orange Machine that had cost $$1,000 double dollars. Wolfwood still hadn't figured out a use for that purchase.

                       He throws the door open, preparing to meet yet another of the charlatans that so often milked their bank account at Milly's expense. Instead, the man standing there is towing a huge pallet of cigarette boxes on a hand-pulled trailer, with a rather strange buzzing noise coming from the trailer. "Good morning, sir. May I interest you in these fine cigarettes? I heard of the smokeout so I brought them in from May City, and I have a very reasonable deal."

                       Wolfwood eyes the boxes as Milly gently taps on his arm. "It's only one more day, Nicholas. . .then it won't be as bad. Also, I have a bad feeling about this."

                       "Honey, you've never had a bad feelin' about these people before, even the outright thieves."

                       "I just don't want to see you smoking again, darling. It's bad for me, bad for the baby, bad for-"

                       "So howzabout it? $500 double dollars for all of these!"

                       "I may be desperate, but I know a cheat when I see one. $100 double dollars, no more, no less."

                       Milly withholds a laugh. She had bought Wolfwood cigarettes on an errand before, despite her disapproval of his smoking, and knows that the price is way too low for that many, but stands there in shock as Wolfwood's negotiation skills appear to have succeeded once more. "Sold, my friend. You won't regret it!"

                       The priest smiles as he triumphantly lifts a large carton marked "BUZZ Tobacconist" to open it shortly after the salesman leaves. "Nicholas, I am really disappointed in you! Couldn't you have held on for one more day at least-"

                       "Sorry, honey-" Wolfwood opens the box, and almost immediately realizes his mistake as a veritable blizzard of flies pours from the opening.

                       "Ewwwwww! Get these things out of here! Why did you ever-"

                       "Sorry, honey! They must have put some flies in with the cigarettes!" Wolfwood frantically rummages through the box, throwing dead flies around, then rips open another box. More flies pour out. "What is this?"

                       Milly runs to the nursery, through the swarms of flies now buzzing about the house, quickly grabbing Selphie and shielding her under her coat for the run outside the house, hearing faint screaming of epithets as Wolfwood disappears into the distance after the salesman, waving one of the boxes in a flailing hand.

                       She taps her free hand on the door of the house next door. "Sempai-"

                       "If you'll excuse me, Milly, we've got a ton of flies in here and-"

                       "Umm, Meryl. . .That's what I needed to talk to you-"

                       "Look, Milly, it can wait!" The thump of a newspaper and a flyswatter echoes several times. "There's all these flies in here! What is going on, I just cleaned house yester-Vash! You broomheaded idiot! I told you to put a saucer over my coffee!"

                       "There's not that many flies in-Ow! Watch where you're-Ow! Meryllll. . ."

                       Wolfwood angrily walks the two iles he had ran back home, kicking at the ground with his shoe as he imagines the face of a certain smarmy con artist etched into it, mumbling, snarling at crooks in general and this one in particular. The man had quite the head start, and all the priest ever saw of him after beginning the futile chase was footprints and dust. "Nicholas. . . you couldn't find him?" Milly looks down at Selphie, who has awakened and is beginning to become fussy, thankful that she had ran back inside for the baby's shaded bassinet.

                       "No, honey. Could you go in and call the sheriff for me?"

                       "Um, I don't, I don't think we need to do that."

                       "Why not? Look, I'm out 100 double dollars, our house is full of flies-" His statement is interrupted by the slam of the door of the neighboring house as Meryl, accompanied by several flies, steps onto the common porch of the houses.

                       "I don't know how all those flies got into our house! Milly, all I did was open the common air conditioning vent between our houses, and seconds later there were all these flies!"

                       "Sempai, it's kind of like this. You see, this salesman came to our house and-"

                       "Milly!" Meryl seems on the precipice of yet another explosion.

                       "I didn't do it! Nicholas bought what he thought were cigarettes but they were all flies, and it was horrible. . .Sempaaaiiiiii. . . ."

                       A few minutes later, Meryl and Milly sit on the porch, glaring at Wolfwood and Vash sitting on the steps below after hearing the full story of how the bugs got there in the first place. Meryl reaches for her bullhorn. "Now hear this!"

                       The men dive, covering their ears, but to no effect. Wolfwood notices the bump on his friend's head and the rather cowed look on his face.

                       "Repeat: You two, since this mess is entirely your fault, will deal with all of these flies, each and every one of them, you hear me? Now do you have any ideas?"

                       Vash strikes his best "hero" pose. "I could use my lightning-fast marksmanship-"

                       Meryl, unimpressed, throws the bullhorn at the men. "Just get to the hardware store! Now! And don't come back until you have a solution, you hear me?"

                       "Yes, ma'am." Both place their hands to their heads as if to salute.

                       Meryl charges after them, waving her newspaper. "That is not funny!"

                       Vash sits on the bench in front of December City Hardware, attempting to catch his breath. Normally, he was an incredibly fast runner, but Meryl could run almost as fast when fueled by anger. Wolfwood slumps on the bench a few minutes later. "Tongari. . .why do you always have to get into my problems?"

                        "Not that I wanted to. I could have gone my whole life without this."

                        Wolfwood looks up at the sky, drawing a bead on a bird overhead with his finger. "You couldn't if you wanted to. Now tell me, how exactly did the flies get into your house?"

                        "Well, you see, we share that one large air conditioner, and our house was really stuffy and miserable. . .so I went to open the vent. . .and flies swarmed out of it."

                        "What next?"

                        "Meryl came in and asked me what was with all of the flies. I told her, then I made the biggest mistake of our life together."

                        "Let me guess. You told her they reminded you of the elusive mayfly known as love-"

                        "How did you-"

                        "Sounds like somethin' you'd do. And so that's how you got that nice little goose egg on your head."

                        "Yeah, while she screamed something about the 'ever-present housefly known as foolishness.' I guess we'd better get in there and get something for the flies. You have any idea what kills flies?"

                        "Spiders," the priest impassively snarls.

                        "Maybe you shouldn't have chatted with Legato-"

                        "No, Tongari. Spiders, the insects, kill flies. Don't you know anything?"

                        "Oh yeah, but I don't think Meryl would prefer a houseful of spiders."

                        "Yeah, that's right. . ."

                        The men slowly rise from the bench and enter December City Hardware, grateful to see a large sign over an aisle, entitled "Insect Control."

                        Meryl, meanwhile, still boiling with anger, walks into the newly opened spa in December City, five blocks from the hardware store. "What can we do for you, ma'am?"

                        "The relaxation special, you know, facial, massage, pedicure, everything. I've had a really stressful day thanks to that broomhead and that priest!"

                        Wolfwood sighs as Vash stares at a bottle of insect spray, whining. "Isn't there something that will just chase the flies away?"

                        "Flies? Look, Tongari, I knew you were softhearted but I never thought you were that much of a wimp-"

                        "Then if we have to kill the flies, this spray is bad anyway. . ."

 

                        The priest hears the familiar click of a cigarette lighter, then steps into the next aisle to see a familiar face-the man that robbed the pharmacy that first day. "I'd recognize you and those odd clothes anywhere! What was your name again anyway, and how did you get smokes-"

                        "Leave me alone. . .wait. You wouldn't know where they would have a hyperdrive modulator, by any chance?"

                        "Hyperwhatsis? I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

                        The man sighs, leaning against a post, pulling out a cigarette. "I'd give you one if you'd tell me, padre. This place is not my style."

                        "Maybe the plant would have one, I'm not too sure though. Now where's my-"

                        "You don't get your cigarette till I get my modulator. Besides, what do they put in these cigarettes here? They taste terrible."

                        "I'll tell you if you tell me where you obtained them-"

                        "Black market, very familiar with that kinda thing, if I do say so myself. I was so desperate I traded my gun in for them. . .by the way, my name's Spike."

                        "I know that feelin'."

                        "Hey, Wolfwood, what do you think about these? Catch and release fly traps?"

                        Wolfwood takes one look at Spike, one look at Vash, then does the only sensible thing-inwardly groans at his bad luck.

                        The bounty hunter drops his cigarette. "Wait-that's the $$60 billion double dollar man! Help me get him, man-we'll split the reward three ways, you and me and-"

                        "Not on your life-or it will be!" Wolfwood screams, realizing his unarmed state and swinging a fist at Spike, who ably dodges and attempts to tackle Vash, who dodges him, causing the bounty hunter to dive into a shelf, starting a domino effect of store shelves.

                        Wolfwood watches from his now-prone position as both men check for their guns, realize they are unarmed, and then trade punches-both of which miss. An idea comes to him as he grabs a can of paint and throws it at Spike. The paint misses as Spike in retaliation throws a large dust broom at him and Vash throws a can of bug spray at Spike.

                        Wolfwood, who had grabbed the dust broom on impact, heaves it back at Spike, missing and instead demolishing a display of glassware as other shoppers run out of the store screaming for the sheriff and the store owner yells at everyone to evacuate, noticing that the man in the red trenchcoat and the man in the gray trenchcoat both have lit explosives in their hands and are preparing to throw them.

                        The priest dives beneath a fallen shelf with both fingers in ears, crying. "All I wanted was a cigarette. . ."

                        Meryl sighs as she lies there in the spa, cucumber slices over her eyes and a mud mask on her face. The hour at the spa had been a little time to de-stress, and talking to the woman next to her had been helpful to that end as well. Their discussion, more like a rant about men and stupidity, had also helped her to gain perspective-somewhat. She still planned to make a stop at the bar before going home to see what Vash and Wolfwood had done about those flies.

                        The explosion a few blocks away brings every bit of stress back in a second.

                        "I can't believe it! Can't that broomheaded idiot do anything without causing a disaster?"

                        The woman next to her yawns. "No more than Spike can. I love him, but he's too stupid for our common good. I wanted to go to the casino, he wanted to come here, and our ships crashed! Can you believe that? And I bet he got into some trouble too. I told him, this-was-a-vacation! Not a bounty hunt!"

                        Meryl and the woman she knows as Faye find themselves running in the same direction, to be met halfway by the Bernardelli chief. "Stryfe, I'm so happy to see you here-nobody usually is working on a Friday, and we just got an emergency call from the owner of December Hardware and the owner of Mom's Café next door stating that their buildings were demolished in an altercation between three men inside the hardware store, one of which is reported to match the description of-"

                        "Let me guess," Meryl roars, almost spitting out the next words. "Vash the Stampede."

                        "How did you know-"

                        "Honestly, that idiot can do nothing without constant surveillance!"

                        Wolfwood sits there in the jail cell, across from Spike. "Y'know, I'm sorry about all that. I just wanted to protect Tongari there, who knows what they'll do to him if he's caught? Or even who's posted that reward?"

                        "Look, I'm not going to say it, but I'm slightly apologetic." Spike lets out a deep sigh, looking again at the readout on his phone that states that double dollars are only worth anything on the sandy planet.

                        "Friends then?"

                        "Yeah, just don't throw anything else at me and leave me alone."

                        A whine comes from the other side of the jail cell. "I can't believe we're in jaaaaillll! Meryllllll. . .she's gonna kill meeee. . . .the flies are still thereeeee. . . ."

                        Wolfwood and Spike yell at the same time. "Stop whining, Tongari!"

                        Vash looks out of the cell bars to see Meryl and someone else talking to the sheriff, throwing money down on the desk, and yelling before they take the keys to the cell.

                        Then he makes a very large mistake. "Meryl! I'm so happy to see you!"

                        "Then why don't you look at me!"

                        The world before his eyes goes dark as he feels pain in his head from two blows.

                        Wolfwood finally arrives home in four hours, as the suns set. "Darling, you took a long time."

                        "A bounty hunter came after us, honey. . .then the fight-"

                        "I heard about that when the chief came and asked me to write up the report! Are you OK?"

                        "Yeah, I'm fine. What happened next? Why couldn't Meryl write the report?"

                        "Well, you see, she and the bounty hunter's wife came to pay our bail. Anyway, Tongari looked at Faye while he told Meryl how happy he was to see her. So Meryl and Spike both proceeded to punch him. . .he ended up with a black eye and slight concussion, and since this was done in front of the sheriff, both were arrested for assault and battery. I paid Meryl's bail, and she and Vash should be back soon-the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him a little longer."

                        "Oh, that's good. I finished the report. . .and something else. You know those flies? Well, my big big brother taught me how to make a fly trap with sugar water, alcohol, and a small bowl inside a larger one. I made ten fly traps for each place using that glassware I bought, sugar, water, and your whiskey collection-and there aren't any more flies. Isn't that wonderful, darling?"

                        "Yes, honey. . .wonderful. Can you go inside and wait for me? I'm takin' a short walk, be right back. . ."

                        "Now don't get into any trouble, Nicholas! My big sister always said that walking out at night can make you sick!"

                        Wolfwood calmly walks the five iles to the small bluff over the canyon on the outskirts of town, then lets out a series of screams that would make banshees flee in terror, amidst some very unpriestly ranting about the lack of intelligent life around him.

                        Milly shovels a spoonful of pudding into her mouth. "I wonder what that noise is, Sempai."

                        "It's probably the cats."

                        "Yeah. . .maybe we can get Selphie a kitten. I think she would like a kitty."

                        "Not until she's older. Milly! Seriously, where is your brain?"

                        "It's in my head. Where do you think people's brains are?"

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