FPFPCD transcript

Transcripts from FPFP's CD resource files.
==Background==
There is some adlibbing that goes on in the CD-Rom version, therefore some spoken dialog is missing from the game texts. These will be attempted to be transcribed into text.
Some text originally in the floppy version missing from this version of the game altogether, including item on item comments. It's recommended to play both versions.
==Audio36==
0lz0300.004: Uhh...The accent slipped, babe.
0lz0300.008: Antonio! Don't walk on the ants! Uh!!!
0lz0100.003: I suppose I can tell you. You know too much already, so I can never let you live. I had just finished my education back in western Pennsylvania at the local Meadville... Oh, wait a second, Josh, can I ask a question?
0lz0100.006: It's just that, eh, I don't understand my motivation for this speech.
0lz0100.008: I mean, eh, why would Penelope reveal all this to Freddy? Why doesn't she just kill him and get on with it? Fory crying out loud...!
01lz0100.00c: Oh, eh, can't we put it in the manual instead, Joshie, sweetie, bubbie, honey? It's just so, so dull.
01l0200.00aa: He'll never pick his ear with that finger again. Heheheheheh!
==Messages==
=== 0.msg ===
That would probably do something, but nothing you need to do now.
That's just another bit of authentic Western scenery.
You can't think of anything to say to that.
You can't walk there; at least, not thisaway.
There's no need to touch that.
That just doesn't work like that.
Click here to change to the Move cursor, then click the Move cursor on the main screen. Freddy will walk to that spot (or as close to it as he can).
If you have a two-button mouse, click the right mouse button to cycle through all the available cursors without returning to this Icon Bar.
If you have a three-button mouse, click the middle mouse button to switch between the Move cursor and the previous cursor.
Click here to change to the Look cursor, then click the Look cursor on the main screen to look at things.
Click here to change to the Hand cursor, then click the Hand cursor on the main screen to do things.
Click here to change to the Talk cursor, then click the Talk cursor on characters in the game to speak with them.
Do you really want to skip ahead and possibly miss the best part of the whole game (heh, heh, heh)?
Yes
Oops
You're so impatient!
Click here (or press <Ctrl-I> or <Tab>) to see what you are carrying in Inventory.
Click here (or press <Ctrl-C>) to bring up the Control Panel, where you may adjust how the game works.
Click here to change to the Question Mark cursor, then pass the Question Mark over the other icons to learn what they do.
After you select an inventory item, it is displayed here. To use that item in the game, first click here to make it your cursor, then click that cursor on the main screen.
If this window is empty, click on the inventory icon to open the inventory window, then select an item there. (The inventory icon is the saddle bag just to the right of your Question Mark.)
Click this here icon to leave the present scene.
You're way too busy right now to do that. Try again later.
Going to spend a little time catching up on your professional reading, Freddy?
Don't quit now!
Quit
Oops
When this icon is available, you may click here to "Fast Forward" to the next interactive part of the game.
This area displays the number of points you have earned so far, followed by the maximum score possible.
Do you really want to start the game over again from the very beginning?
Restart the Game?
Restart
Oops
Restore
Continue
Play
Help
Quit
Prologue
Restart
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Your Password Code is: 100101110101100011010101011010001.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and
the events in this game is strictly a result of your overactive imagination.
Deal with it.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Now go out and play. Get out of the house. It's a beautiful day outside.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
If there are any other games you'd like us to make for you, just let us know.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Can we go home now?
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Remember: our game is YOUR game. Play it whenever you like.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Remember: real life rots your brain. Play more computer games.
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Freddy Pharkas rules! All other games... TAKE A BURN!
You're beginning to feel a little light-headed. Better use your gas mask!
Ahh! Now you can see this prescription the way Doc wrote it.
=== 10.msg ===
Memory fragmented
So what? 
Debug 
       < Pick a Puzzle ◘>       
< Restore >
Ready for Business
    Prescription #1    
  Prescription #2  
  Prescription #3  
Corrected Prescription
  Preparation G  
  Sheriff Shutdown  
       Gas Mask       
  Flatulent Horses  
  Snail Stampede  
       Lemmings        
  Hire a Sidekick  
Contaminated Water
Burning of Coarsegold
  Madame Ovaree  
    Arm Yourself    
    Target Practice    
Quickdraw Practice
     Dress Up     
      Card Shark      
  Rowdy Cowhands  
 Lever Brothers 
   Kenny's Quickdraw   
Schoolhouse Showdown
Trapped in Basement
    Sword Fight    
   Killing Kenny    
   < Act 1 >  
   < Act 2 >  
   < Act 3 >  
   < Act 4 >  
< Epilogue >
Pick a Puzzle♣
Where to, Pardner?
Pick a Puzzle
=== 13.msg ===
FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST is brought to you in living VGA by the hombres out at Sierra On-Line, Inc. and Screw Loose Amusements.
Designed and written by
 Al Lowe and Josh Mandel
Produced and Directed by
 Josh Mandel
Authentic Western♦ Art by
 Bob Gleason,
 Ruben Huante,
 Phy "No Relation" Williams,
 and Karin Young
Authentic Western♦
 Programming by
 Steve Conrad,
 William R. Shockley,
 and Cynthia L. Swafford
Authentic Western♦
 CD-ROM Conversions by
 Steve Conrad
 and William Shockley
Authentic Western♦
 Audio Engineering by
 Dan Kehler,
 Rick Spurgeon,
 and Kelli Spurgeon
Authentic Western♦ Voices by
 Cam Clarke as Freddy Pharkas
 Neil Ross as The Narrator
 Kath Soucie as Penelope Primm
 Lewis Arquette as Whittlin' Willy
 Michael Gough as Kenny the Kid
Authentic Western♦ Voices by
 Jan Rabson as Sam Andreas
 Richard Paul as Chester Field
 Susan Silo as Helen Back
 Nicolas Guest as Srini
 Lewis Arquette as P. H. Balance
Authentic Western♦ Voices by
 Jan Rabson as Wheaton "Aces" Hall
 Michael Gough as Salvatore O'Hannahan
 Susan Silo as Madame Ovaree
 Nicolas Guest as Hop Singh
Authentic Western♦ Voices by
 Bill Bryant as Doc Gillespie
 Jocko Marcellino as Smithie
 Richard Paul as Sheriff "Chicken" Shift
 Jan Rabson as Diamond Jim Laffer
Authentic Western♦
 Voice Direction by
 Al Lowe
Authentic Western♦
 Voiceovers Produced by
 Dan Kehler
Authentic Western♦
 Music & Sounds by
 Aubrey Hodges
and Authentic Western♦
 Quality Assurance by
 Mike W. Pickhinke
Additional Animation and Mondo Thanks To:
 Jeff Crowe,
 Joan Delehanty,
 Maria Fruehe,
 Gloria Garland,
 Michael Hutchison,
 Tony Margioni,
 Jerry Moore,
 Cindy Walker,
 Chris "Smokehouse" Willis,
 and Deanna Yhalkee
Special Guest Programming by
 Doug Oldfield,
 Carlos Escobar,
 and Brian K. Hughes
Customer Service Liaisonin' by
 Larry Buchanan
 and Mike Weiner
Systems Programming by
 Vana Baker, Ed Critchlow,
 Dan Foy, J. Mark Hood,
 Brian K. Hughes, Ken Koch,
 Jack Magne, Terry McHenry,
 Martin Peters, Larry Scott,
 Christopher Smith, and Mark Wilden
Special Thanks To:
 Bob Ballew, Donovan Holmes,
 Jeff & Jon Martin, Rick Spurgeon,
 Nathan Gams, Alan Mandel,
 and the Freddy Pharkas Beta Testers
If you're not enjoying FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST, you will no doubt also dislike Al Lowe's other groundbreaking comedy adventure games:
|c0|Leisure Suit Larry  in the Land of the Lounge Lizards,|c| |c1|Leisure Suit Larry 2:  Leisure Suit Larry Goes Looking For Love (In Several Wrong Places),|c| |c2|Leisure Suit Larry 3:  Passionate Patti in Pursuit of the Pulsating Pectorals,|c| |c0|Leisure Suit Larry 5:  Passionate Patti Does a Little Undercover Work,|c| and |c3|Leisure Suit Larry 6:  Shape Up or Slip Out!|c|
These and all the other fine Sierra products (including the handy six-pack  of FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST), are available from Sierra.  See your Game Manual.
Hints are available on our 24-hour Automated Hint Line. See your Game Manual.
Hint Books may be purchased from our Sales Department.  See your Game Manual.
Our Customer Support people can help you with your technical problems, disk replacements, etc. See your Game Manual.
This half-hour infomercial has been brought to you by Screw Loose Amusements, the Freddy Pharkas team. Now back to the game, already in progress.
=== 15.msg ===
You scrape the clay off and discard it, leaving you with a gleaming silver ear! Beautifully done! With an ear like this, you could (dare I say it) RULE THE WORLD! Nyah-ha-ha-ha!
Your "ear mold" (yuch!) is now filled with the melted silver from your award medallion. (Y'know, they're NOT going to send Srini another medallion!)
Those two just don't go together.
You try tearing open a sack with your bare hands, but in the never-ending battle of Man vs. Burlap, you lose.
You intended to order one sack of baking soda. Owing to an administrative error, you are now the proud possessor of one hundred forty-four sacks of baking soda... and the superhuman strength required to carry it around. How gross!
With muscles bulging from years of grappling with childproof caps, you deftly wield the church key and wrench the tops from all the beer bottles.
Sorry, Mr. Anheuser only recently developed the bottle-cap. Mr. Busch hasn't begun to think about the twist-off tops yet!
This is your case of Loebrau, "The Beer that Gave St. Louis Blues." All 24 bottles are tightly stoppered with those newfangled metal bottle-caps.
You reach inside your old boots and find... the rotting remains of a pair of nasty old Odor Beaters!
Sigh. These passenger pigeon-skin boots bring back memories... of the days before Kenny the Kid gave you an ear job.
What are you trying to do, open the bullets? Not a smart endeavor!
Tons o' ammo! Hot lead! Hollow-points! Dum-dums!
You try to mold the wax with your bare hands, but the wax is just a bit too stiff to handle. (A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to you!)
With your newly-acquired whittlin' skills, you carve the candle wax into the shape of an ear, one that should theoretically attach snugly to the remains of your original ear. But now look at the gunk on Willy's knife!
I'll toss this knife over here where Willy might find it. He'll probably think he dropped it here!
Yeah. Sure.
This puddle of candle wax from the Church is suitable for chewing, but it tends to lose that "Churchy" flavor after only a couple of minutes!
You search for something inside the charcoal, but there's nothing to be found.
You swiped this handful of charcoal from the blacksmith's forge. (Remember to wash your hands when you're finished playing the game!)
The Church key is solid and heavy and refuses to bend.
Nobody will miss this key to the Church, since the Church is never locked anyway.  But doesn't it have an unusual shape?
You turn the claim check over, searching for a locker combination, but there's nothing written on the other side.
It's a tattered, well-worn claim check, nearly brown with age.
You try to shape the clay, but you're no sculptor. (Maybe you should take up whittling instead!)
Who would steal a handful of clay from a gravesite? If you only had some eye of newt and tongue of bat...
You poke around in the gun cleaning kit, but you find nothing useful.
Hey! Maybe a fella could use this for cleanin' guns?!
Duh!
Sheriff Shift's was so nice to "give" you his gun-cleaning kit. He may be a low-down, evil, corrupt, two-timin' no-good varmint, but he's got the cleanest pistol in town... or so says Madame Ovaree!
You search through the clothes and see your pants, your jacket, your gun belt, and your hat. All are in apparently still in good condition!
These are your old ex-gunslinging clothes, including your "Good Guy Model"  hat! (Mr. Pharkas's Wardrobe by Festus Lauren of Cheyenne.)
Only a logger stirs his coffee with his thumb.
Mmm, there's nothing like a steaming hot cuppa joe from Mom's Cafe, brewed from mountain-grown beans from the steep-sloped hills of Jamaica! Much better than those shoddy trench-grown coffee beans from the shallow-sloped ditches of Peoria!
You turn the prescription over, looking for a hint of some sort, but there's nothing to see on the other side.
You study Madame Ovaree's prescription, fully amended and corrected by Doc Gillespie: "Madame Ovaree, Estrosterane, 1 paper each morning after."
"Madame Ovaree, Estrosterane, 1 paper each morning after."
You dip your finger into the deflatulizer and lick it off. Mmmm!  Aminophyllic Citrate really hits the spot!
Taa-daa, your latest invention: Equine Deflatulizer, an exclusive blend of secret ingredients guaranteed to neutralize noxious methane emissions from the lower gastro-intestinal tract of Equus caballus. In other words, it's Gastroentrological- Veterinarian-In-A-Drum!
You turn the key over carefully, but it reveals nothing new.
This is the key to your safe deposit box, pried from the cold, rigid fingers of your dead pal Phil.
You attempt to do that key-bending routine you used to know when you were a kid, but somehow you've lost your touch.
This is the key to your roll-top desk.
The door key's got a nice heft to it!
Hey. This looks just like the key to the front door of my pharmacy!
You open the bottle and take a long, deep whiff. The cilia lining your nose curl up and fall out, your sinuses start to drain, your eyes begin to water, and your face turns red. Say, this stuff is REALLY effective!
Dad Gumm's Magic Elixir is "Positively guaranteed to cure myopia, melancholia, the vapors, congestion, consumption, malaria, piles, shingles, rickets, leprosy, bubonic plague, gout, bursitis, arthritis, and the galloping cruds. 190 proof." Obviously, "Truth in Advertising" is still years in the future!
You cleverly shove your finger into a bottle and get it stuck there. You manage to twist it out, but not before popping a half-dozen knuckles. Next stop, Arthritis City!
Now that the snails have been eradicated, you're left with a lot of empty beer bottles. Unfortunately, the California Bottle Redemption Act won't be made into law for another 100 years. (After all, that bill was only introduced five years ago!)
You gingerly examine the clay "negative" mold.
(TO SELF) Pretty decent piece of craftsmanship, even if you do say so yourself!
It's an empty clay mold of an ear.
Don't open it! You'll release its precious contents (and probably kill a few locals!).
It's a bagful of something which does NOT meet California Emissions Standards!
You peek inside the bag. Nope, nothing in there yet!
Chester Field's sturdy brown paper bags are suitable for penny candy, two-penny nails, and half-pint containers of Danny's Sourmash-Flavored Yogurt (the kind with the whisky on the bottom!).
You adjust the leather strap just so.
Congratulations on making this homemade gas mask. Devilishly good work!
You're unwilling to touch it any more than necessary.
How can we put this delicately? It's a fragrant, freshly-baked, road apple.
You touch the ice pick to your finger. That thing's sharp! And MEAN!
You swiped the town ice pick from out back o' the saloon. (Now no one will be able to pick their teeth!)
You can't get it open! Damn these childproof tins!
You hope you got this prescription right! (After all, pharmacology is an art, not an exact science!)
Click here to change your cursor into a Hand, then click the Hand on one of the Inventory objects to do something to it.
Click here to change your cursor into a Question Mark, then pass the Question Mark over the other icons to learn how they work.
Click here to change your cursor into the Look cursor, then click the Look cursor on the Inventory objects to examine them more closely.
Click here to close this Inventory window and return to the game.
Click here to see more Inventory objects. 
To use an Inventory item, click here to change your cursor into an Arrow, then click the Arrow on the item you wish to use. The Arrow will change into that item. You may then click the item on other Inventory objects or on "OK" to use that item in the game.
You close the knife and open it again. Smooth. Silent. Deadly. (Stolen.)
These Confederate Army pen knife replicas are becoming quite popular among the more sophisticated whittlers.
You make sure the ladder's rungs are nice and tight. (A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to Doc Gillespie!)
What sort of cad would steal a ladder from the school playground? (Oh, you would!)
You have no reason to untie your adroitly-constructed lasso!
I never met a lasso I didn't like!
You test the leather strap. Wow, it IS durable!
A rugged leather strap... your mind reels with the possibilities!
You turn the paper over, looking for a return address or something, but there isn't one.
You received this letter a few years back from your recently dearly-departed friend, Phil Graves:
"Dear Freddy,
Thank you so very kindly for your recent gracious hospitality during my recent convalescence. The floor of your workroom proved a comfortable bed, and the stale Pharmacy goods you fed me staved off starvation quite adequately.
"I must admit to being a little curious of your request that I retain your safety-deposit key for you; I cannot imagine what you have secured in that bank vault that could create such strong feelings of both revulsion and endearment.
"However, I have done as you asked and taken your key with me. I vow to you I will never return this key to you nor even allow it within your sight. I further swear to keep it with me wherever I go.
"On this you have my word of honor, for I am,
Ever your friend,
Philip D. Graves"
It's solid silver! You can't bend it, break it, or scratch it.
It's Srini's 99.9% silver medallion, awarded to him by the American Society of Salves, Holistic Ointments, Liniments and Emollients Salesmen. (Think about it!)
I think I'll count my money.
Never do that when you're sitting at the table. (There'll be time enough for counting when the game is done.)
Finally, you get your four dollars and eighty-seven cents! Smithie's pharmacy tab is paid in full at last!
Say, let me show you a little trick with a borrowed neckerchief... Now you see it...
Now you don't!
Just kidding.
Wow, if your old trusty neckerchief could only talk, boy, the stories this baby would tell!
The tank of nitrous oxide is sealed; there's no way to open its valve with your bare hands. (But tanks for trying!)
Sal uses this canister of nitrous oxide, also known as "laughing gas," to make sure his customers leave with a smile!
You dip your little finger in one of the open bottles of beer and taste it. Mmm, that hits the spot!
You have a full case of opened Lowebrau. (Don't get caught with it in your buggy!)
You squish the pie a bit to see what oozes out. (You sincerely hope them's apples!)
Ah, there's nothing quite like Mom's Apple Pie. Now if someone would just invent baseball: VOILA! Instant Americana!
You slip the bullets in the chamber as the old memories come rushing back (including a few featuring you and your first cousin out behind the barn, when you were both curious 8-year-olds!).
With the Sheriff's cleaning kit, you lovingly clean and polish your old pistols 'til they're like new. Good thing you removed all that nasty rust from your barrel -- the damn thing could'a exploded right in your face!
After removing the bullets, you clean and polish your pistols 'til they shine like a Coarsegold kid with his first passing grade. Good thing you removed all that rust from your barrel -- the damn thing could'a exploded right in your face! When you're done, you replace the bullets in the chamber.
You cock the hammers, twirl the pistols, fake a shot, and slowly let the hammers back up. YES! That feels good, damn good!
You draw your pistol.
You don't want to draw until you're ready to fire, and you can't possibly hit anything useful from here.
Your old pistols, looking somewhat tarnished after so many years in storage, are probably still quite serviceable.
Your old pistols, now cleaned and restored to their original working condition, bring back a flood of emotions, with memories of yesteryear!
Your pistols are clean and loaded for bear! Now you're cookin'!
Your old pistols are fully loaded with the Sheriff Chickenshift's surplus ammo.
You riffle through the stack of spicy French Postcards, but they just won't animate smoothly.
Ooh-la-la and Va-va-voom! No, that's not an exclamation! That's the names of the two ladies prominently featured on Madame's spicy French postcards. (Or, rather, they're the two ladies with the prominent features on Madame's spicy French postcards!)
You press down on the tube, and it crumples ever so slightly. (What WILL modern technology think of next??)
The tube of Preparation G, the latest anti-hemorrhoidal unguent from the folks at Parke-Loomis, is labeled, "Top Tush Treatments -- since 1848!"
You turn the prescription over, looking for a locker combination or something, but there's nothing written on the other side.
Penelope Primm, 4 mls Tyloxpolynide orally 2x/5 days.
Why, the poor dear! She must be suffering from the vapors, those injurious exhalations produced within the body, creating feelings of hypochondria and depression. (Her prescription is in Doc's usual scrawl, and smells of whisky, so you know it's authentic!)
You hold the prescription up to the light to see if you can see any secret messages, but nothing is visible.
Helen Back's prescription is barely legible due to all the whisky spots, but you eventually decipher it...
Helen Back, Quinotrazate tabs, 3x/7 days.
You try reading it backwards, but it's still a whisky-sodden, poorly-written prescription. Dang that Doc Gillespie anyway!
This prescription is impossible to read. That's what happens when Doc writes a prescription through bleary, whisky-soaked eyeballs!
You shake the solution up a bit, just to make sure it stays well-mixed.
This should do the trick! You decide to name it "Pharkas's Patented Anti-Poopulent." (Now if you could only find a way to insure everybody in town gets a dose.)
With a few quick movements, you make an authentic Western lasso out of the rope. It's like falling off a log... once you learn how, you never forget!
This hank of rope is plenty sturdy. (Give yourself enough of it, and you'll hang yourself.)
You carefully feel the edge of your silver ear. It's a little ragged, but sharp as the dickens!
You've honed your silver ear to a deadly razor sharpness.
You scrape some of the dirt off the shovel, but it's still hopelessly dirty.
This shovel was left at ReBoot Hill for the convenience of the gravediggers.
You carefully examine the silver ear. Fine workmanship. Nice socket for your cartilaginous earstump. No rough edges. A spectacular job, especially since this is your first foray into the wonderful world of lost-wax casting!
It's your soon-to-be-world-famous Silver Ear, symbol of truth, justice, and the Pharmacological Way!
You poke the snails, and they recede quickly into their shells. (Kinda reminds you of taking a cold shower!)
If you only had a few snails mushroom caps to go with these.
You pour a small amount of beer on the snails. They quickly begin to weave around uncertainly, as if... as if they were DRUNK! How bizarre!
You run your hand up the length of the blade. Criminy! This baby's SHARP! (You compose a short mental note of complaint to the Franklin Mint.)
It appears to be a Confederate sword. You wonder if it's sharp?
You drop the charcoal into tin can.  Now we're gettin' somewhere!
You poke around inside the can for a few leftover beans, but no dice. (And no beans, either!)
You gently stir the coal, and a little of it sifts through the holes in the can. (Look, Ma!  Black snow!)
You stir the can full of charcoal with your finger. Whee!
You feel the jagged edges inside the can where the ice pick has poked through the steel. You feel the leather of the strap where it passes through the holes in the side of the can. (And you feel mighty silly standing here feeling a can!)
Yep, it feels like those holes go right straight through that can!
With all the precision of a serial killer, you deftly poke some holes in the tin can with the ice pick. Hah!
Having accomplished your immediate desire, and in the process hopelessly dulling the ice pick, you exhibit absolutely no regard for this barren piece of locality laughingly called the "environment" by brazenly tossing the ice pick away. You're such a "consumer!"
You slip the leather strap through the holes in the tin can. They fit perfectly. Congrats! You've always wanted a tin feed bag!
The leather strap just won't fit through the holes in the tin can... because there ARE no holes in the tin can!
It's an empty can of beans. Why would Mom keep an empty can of beans on her shelf? Well, Mom's memory ain't what she used to be.
The hole-ridden tin can is now chock full of charcoal.
This tin can is full'a charcoal.
The tin can, riddled with holes from your trusty ice pick, has a leather strap threaded through two of the holes.
You've poked major holes in the tin can!
Careful, you'll get your finger stuck in one of the bottles.
Oops.
See! Now pull it out. Gently... carefully...
Ooof!
There. Now you're free again. Now don't do that again, okay?
You've taken one of the empty beer bottles and filled it with water from the water tower. The other bottles are all empty.
You're too precariously balanced to juggle paper and glass. Get on solid ground first!
Finally you see the prescription as Doc Gillespie must've seen it when he wrote it: through the bottom of a whisky glass!
You carefully pack the clay in and around the wax ear, leaving a small opening so that you can pour out the molten wax later.
You try to attach the wax ear to the small knot of cartilage on the side of your head, but the wax is too slippery to stay on. Apparently you'll need to do something more to the wax ear to build yourself an acceptable prosthesis.
This handsomely-carved wax ear looks very much like one that bastard Kenny the Kid shot off so many years ago!
You stir the few remaining drops of whisky around, then lick off your finger. Mmm! Single-malt!
Poor Doc! What's he gonna do without his whiskey glass?
Scraping off the clay now would destroy the mold!
This clay mold still contains your original wax "positive" of your ear.
=== 16.msg ===
This door is locked.
You don't hear anything.
This door won't open this way. 
This door is already open and there's really no need for you to lock it.  
=== 18.msg ===
Whew-ee! You can't. The aroma is simply too overpowering. You don't dare touch the horse without some way to protect yourself from the stench.
Somebody's poor horse seems to be dispelling huge quantities of a noxious methane compound.
The horse's tail is fluttering in the breeze! (And what a breeze that is!)
Hey, you're a purty li'l paint, aren't ya? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!  What a little cutie! I like you, horsie! I sure do! Can I take you home with me? CAN I take you home with me? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Yes, you would! Yes, you would!
(You need to get out more often, Freddy.)
Nice horsey! (You'd BETTER be nice to this horsey. It has the power to cloud men's minds!)
You must be thinking of Dad Gumm's Magic Suppositories! Unfortunately, Dad stopped manufacturing those years ago when they were found to be explosive under pressure!
You don't have nearly enough keys to plug up |c2|all|c| the horses in town!
Yes, if you wanted, you could capture the "effluvium" in the tin can, but since the tin can doesn't have a top, the effluvium wouldn't stay in there.
You really think that giving the horses hemorrhoids will make them stop farting?
That charcoal might stay in there for a minute or two, but then |c0|BANG!|c| There goes windows all up and down Main Street!
Yeah, spank 'em, that'll keep the horses from farting. Bet it really starts 'em kicking!
You'd need a lot of gas masks, but you're on the right track.
You carefully pour the Deflatulizer into the horse's water trough. The horses greedily lap up the dee-lish- and nu-trish- medicated trough water.
Seein' as how his home-brewed "Patootie Sealant" done the trick on these horses, Freddy ran 'round and dumped the stuff into all the horse troughs in town. It warn't long 'afore the folks o' Coarsegold wuz all breathin' a sigh of relief!
Freddy tossed away his homemade gas mask, kind of a shame too, since he could'a made a purty penny off'n the patent rights. Life returned to normal, fur a short spell anyhooch, until one lazy day when one o' the local inbreeds come a'runnin' up wif the latest calamity...
Unlike most headwaiters, this horse's ass doesn't accept tips!
You briefly consider pouring beer into the horse's nether regions, but you quickly realize it would only worsen the horse's flatulence... and you'd have a hell of a time recycling that bottle!
If you did that, you'd have to shoot it afterwards. (The Church Key, not the horse.)
You are truly a sick and cruel person. (Oh, you just wanted to climb on board? Oops!)
The horse would undoubtedly appreciate the "seven knots to heaven" trick, but you've got better uses for that rope in mind!
That might make sense if you were trying to remove their intestinal polyps, but that's not their problem.
The sheer force of the wind would break the wax seal instantly. (But you get an "A" for creativity.)
You could try that, but then you might have to go looking for it again, and wouldn't that be just TOO disgusting.
They're not rags, you know, they're your old official Cowboy duds!
You're gonna |c0|need|c| that claim check sooner or later, and if you stick it in there, you're not gonna want it anymore.
You've got better (and more polite) uses in mind for those boots!
That's one interesting place to store the letter.
(SCOTTY LIKE) She can't take any more, Cap'n! I'm afraid she's gonna BLOW!
In what may well be the most revolting idea you've ever had, you hold the brown paper sack up to the horse's anal sphincter and wait. With a reverberating "bbbrrraaatt," the horse reponds, inflating your bag a foul sample of "gas." You quickly twist the bag shut to lock in freshness.
A really terrifically disgusting idea! Unfortunately, the horse's tail momentarily blocks your access.
Someone's horse (at least, you HOPE it was a horse) has decorated the street with a steamin' hot, fly-attracting "pie."
You gingerly pick up the steaming pile and place it in your (ecccch!) pocket. (You make a mental note to burn these clothes when you're done with the game.)
=== 19.msg ===
unused msg
Taking a serious look at yourself, you decide you like what you see.
These little self-introspective chats are fun, aren't they, Freddy?
unused msg
Ahhh! Scratching right there sure feels good, eh, Freddy?
You uncork and swig the elixir, finishing the bottle before you know it.
How poetic... the dorky and the door key!
You rub the paper all over your hands, but it's still legible!
You rub it all over your hands, but it's still legible!
You rub it all over your hands, but it's still totally illegible!
Doc's already drained all the whisky from the glass, but hey, nice try!
There's not enough whisky in the glass to drink, and you're not particularly hungry for a sodden piece of paper!
You already have the corrected prescription!
You heave... a sigh of relief!
You take a swig of the water from the water tower. Uh-oh. Your stomach starts to make strange sounds. Your small intestine begins to whine. Your lower intestine starts complaining loudly.
You're having enough trouble balancing on the ladder as it is; now's no time to juggle your inventory items.
It's not a good idea to try that up here! Lose your balance and you'll be nothing more than a particularly large road apple.
You had a drink of water just before you went to bed!
Fighting crime is thirsty work, but wait 'til you've dealt with the situation at hand to take your refreshment.
You try the old trick of flattening the can against your skull. Ring around the forehead! Ring around the forehead!
Congratulations! Nice form, Mr. Ripper!
You briefly consider that current craze, the "minstrel" look, but decide there are better uses for the charcoal.
You glance around to make sure no one is watching, then you flagellate yourself just a little bit.
You take a few deep breaths from the gas mask, clearing your head and enabling you to go on awhile longer!
You can't fiddle with that while you're on the ladder.
Fortunately, the aroma hasn't permeated the interior of the building. You won't need to use that gas mask in here.
You can't keep your balance up here AND use the gas mask properly at the same time, Freddy.
Unfortunately for you, this Deflatulizer is highly concentrated, far too powerful to be ingested in undiluted form!
What? Uncooked? And without garlic butter? AUGGGH!
You thank yourself for last night, and pay yourself the usual amount.
You rub the bottle cap across your lips, just enough to make sure that everybody knows what a macho stud pharmacist you are!
You take a drink of the beer.
BURRRRRRRRP!!
(Fortunately, you've got MUCH more beer left. You could never drink that much beer, so stop trying!)
You coyly avoid a trip to the outhouse... but you refuse to carry that bottle around any more!
You are amazed to find the church key's shape precisely fits your navel, making a perfect belly-button lint remover.
(LADDER PUN) You rung?
Give yourself enough rope and you know you'll hang yourself!
You strongly consider lynching yourself, but decide you're hung well enough already!
You take a swig of the concentrated water purification solution. That'll clean your clock!
You open the valve on the tank of nitrous oxide, and suddenly the game seems much funnier! Unfortunately, you soon die laughing!
You foolishly ingest several sacks of the baking soda, creating a major eruption of the worst kind!
Don't French postcards. You don't know where those postcards have been!
Trying the ol' hot wax treatment? You're SUPPOSED to have hairy legs, Freddy.
Good idea! Those fingernails were getting a little dirty!
You cleverly attempt to unlock your head by inserting the desk key into your nose. Apparently this isn't the right key.
You find the safe deposit box key fits perfectly into several orifices!
unused msg
What are you doing? Trying to rob yourself? Who are you trying to kid? Those pistols aren't loaded!
You just can't resist nibbling off a little corner of the crust. No one will ever notice that!
Ummm, good to the last drop! That Mom sure can make a good cup of Instant Hazelnut Vanilla Mocha Java. (Maybe she has friends here from Europe!)
It won't clean THAT "deadly weapon," Freddy!
Just where did you intend to stick those bullets, Freddy?
Just like you've seen it done at the spas, you apply the clay to your face for a few moments, then scrape it off. Now your complexion is as soft and smooth as a newborn hog's butt!
You will want to wear it later, but only after you have completed your outfit.
It's too late to wear that thing. Penelope's already seen through your disguise!
You wouldn't |c2|dream|c| of wearing your cowboy clothes around town until you have both your whole ensemble and a damn good reason!
You already have the Claim Check.
Of course you'll want to wear the boots later, but wait until you have a complete outfit.
You'll want to wear your neckerchief later, after you have completed your outfit.
It's too sharp to wear! Turn your head to the right and you'd cut your own jugular!
It's bad enough that Penelope's trying to kill you. Now you want to run yourself through?
That's not necessary. You already dig yourself.
You are a sick, sick little pharmacist!
You will NOT need to hyperventilate in this game!
How disgusting!!
You'd look a mite silly, walking around with that big lump of clay stuck to the side of your head.
Mmm... wax and clay! You're not THAT hungry!
You sniff around in the empty mold, but true to its word, it's empty.
You don't need any extra ear wax!
You take a sip of the medication. Unfortunately, the first rule of the Old West Medicine Chest is: never trust nobody else's prescription!
unused msg
(c) Copyright 1994 Sierra On-Line, Inc.
(c) Copyright 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
At least your aim is improving.
(c) Copyright 1994 Sierra On-Line, Inc.
(c) Copyright 1993 Screw Loose Amusements
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
You shot your eye out with that thing, kid!
(c) Copyright 1994 Sierra On-Line, Inc.
(c) Copyright 1993 Screw Loose Amusements
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Oops!  You tried something really incredibly stupid.
(c) Copyright 1994 Sierra On-Line, Inc.
(c) Copyright 1993 Screw Loose Amusements
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
You shot your damn foot off!
(c) Copyright 1994 Sierra On-Line, Inc.
(c) Copyright 1993 Screw Loose Amusements
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Remember... SAVE EARLY, SAVE OFTEN! You shot yourself, fool!
=== 24.msg ===
Raise this poor fool to increase the amount of incidental animation. Lower him if Freddy seems to slog around like a wagon knee-deep in manure.
This poor fella here turns up the noise on sound boards and syn-thee-sizers.
This varmint here adjusts Freddy's walkin' speed, within the limits of your computer's advanced caperbilities.
Lower this poor fellow here to make text remain on the screen longer. Raise him if you are a fast reader and got a lot of book learnin'.
Use this here to save the current state of your game. When you later select Restore, everything'll be right normal, just like it was before, when ya hadn't messed with it.
This restores a game y'all saved earlier on.
Use this here to restart the game all over again, from the very beginning.
Use this here to slowly back outta the game, real careful-like.
Here's where y'all learn more than you wanna about the fellas that put this here game together.
To learn more about the other items in this here window, first click here, then pass yer question mark over those other items there.
Use this here to close this panel here and resume game play.
Use this here button to choose "text" (havin' the words displayed onscreen) or "audio" (havin' the words spoken out loud by real actorlike humans).
=== 26.msg ===
Yes, sir! By gum, by cracky! With his one good ear all mangled and grody, Freddy managed to leap from the schoolhouse just seconds before it went up in the biggest conflagration Coarsegold'd ever seen!
=== 32.msg ===
The credits aren't in need of anything you've got.
This is a credit. This wasn't actually found in Coarsegold in the 1880's, but if they WERE, they'd have looked a lot like this one!
Talking to credits? You are in need of counseling.
You can't take credit for something you haven't done!
That person doesn't want what you're offering. What an ungrateful wretch!
It looks like the name of a hardworking employee with a large ego.
Shhhh, that person's already working on another game.
What's the matter, you don't like your OWN name, so you want to take somebody else's?
=== 90.msg ===
It's Ezekial Jacob Methuselah Andrew Washington Madison Johnson Hallelujah, the preacher's kid.
I ain't got time. I put peanut butter in the offering plate and now my pa is after me! He said I was wasting good peanut butter!
Jeez, buddy. Get yer hands off me!
My parents say I'm not supposed to accept inventory items from strangers.
A good thought, but let his father take care of him.
Carrie Sue ought to be in school, but she's wandering the streets instead.
My mama sez I'm not spozed to talk with strangers. And you're stranger than most!
MAMA! THAT MAN TRIED TO TOUCH ME!!
No thank you, sir! I'm in a hurry!
That's a severe punishment for playing hookey, don't you think?
Rover earned his name the hard way. He lives from paw to mouth all around the town.
Arf.
Grrrrrr...
Best leave him alone, Freddy. Sounds like he got up on the wrong side of the doggy bed.
That dog has pride. He doesn't need your CHARITY!
What are you trying to do, put him out of his misery? How would you like it if that dog decided to put YOU out of YOUR misery?
Once Lucky was as coordinated as any other mongrel, but that was before he had that run in with the owl at the west end of town. Now he hates the owl as much as the rest of us!
How are you?
Wh-wh-what did you say???
Bow arrrooo?
Pant, pant, pant...
He's not very stable on his three legs. If you pet him he'll fall right over!
Bowff.
Translation: No thanks, but if you run across any wooden doggie legs, I'll take two... one for a spare.
Now, now. Lucky's had a hard enough life without you ending it suddenly.
Everybody in town knows Trixie the Accommodating Sheep. She used to belong to a bachelor farmer, but he died of some strange disease.
Baaaaaa.
Translation: I'm terribly sorry, sir, but I can't accommodate you right now.
Baaad boooy!
Trixie's well provided for by her new boyfriend. Supposedly, he's quite the wolf!
There are better ways to get sheep thrills in this game than by shooting Trixie!
Contemplating duck dinner, Freddy?
Talking to ducks? Desperate for company?
Quack! <hic> Quack! <hic>
The duck can't have it. He's already got an unpaid bill.
That's Doc Gillespie's duck, Duck Gillespie. The ol' Doc wouldn't appreciate your cooking his goose.
Henny Penny she ain't.
Buck buck-AKKK.
Freddy, you don't need to steal that bird. You can buy one for chicken feed.
You want to give that to a CHICKEN? What the pluck is he going to do with that?
Ever tried to pick lead out of a chicken carcass? No? Well, you don't wanna start now!
Pork chops on the hoof!
Carpe oink. OINK Emptor. Carborundum squeal. Angelus oink. SQUEAL sic transit OINK!
That pig is one smooth conversationalist! If only you spoke pig-latin.
You contemplate capturing the pig, but think twice when you realize that every single inventory item you have is carried in one pocket. After all, pigs are not the cleanest animals and their fragrance can be unusually pungent. Not the best way to make friends and influence people.
The pig turns up its snout at your offer.
You're not interested in makin' bacon right now.
(SINGING) "Rollin', rollin', rollin', got to keep on rollin...."
It don't say nothin'. It just keeps rollin' along.
And get your hands all full of prickles?
Don't practice your target-shooting in the middle of Main Street!
The snot-nosed brat adds a lot to the charm of downtown Coarsegold.
What do YOU want? Can't you tell I got things to do?
My, but the children in this town are polite!
Don't try it mister! I know haiku!
Stow it, Mister! I don't need that, I don't know where it's been!
Sure. You'd be doing his parents a favor, but even so, tough luck.
The child appears perfectly happy with her lot in life. Of course, what child wouldn't be happy to be dirty?
Say, shouldn't you be in school?
Yeah, and who's gonna make me?
You and what army, mister?
My Dad already has one of those, and it's bigger than yours!
Gee! How did he know THAT?
That's morbid, cruel, and entirely uncalled-for. Besides, we were too cheap to put in the animation of you shooting a child!
Old Pete's been around since the gold was here. He and Willy are the only two codgers left.
Well, by gum! How ya doin', young feller, by gum! Nice to see ya, by gum!
Hey, old timer! Ain't seen you around in a dog's age. What're you up to these days?
What does it LOOK like I'm doing, by gum? I'M TRYIN' TO SELL GUM! Damn ijit.
Now, doncha try it. I'm right ticklish!
I couldn't take nothin' from ya, kiddo. You keep that and put it towards yer edukashun. Don't never stop gettin' an edukashun. I dropped outta school when I was eight, and I ain't never had no fiduciary solvency to fall back on.
Careful, you don't want to be arrested for assaulting a miner!
This poor guy got left behind when his troop went through. He had dysentery.  He's since recovered, but Doc Gillespie's cure seems to have affected his mind as he still thinks his company will return for him.
Yessir. Nice day sir. Good to see you sir.
Hands off, sir. I'm spoken for, sir.
No, thank you, SIR! Uncle Sam gives me everything I need, SIR!
That would be the ultimate indignity, wouldn't it? Shooting a down-on-his-luck soldier who'd never done you any harm. Well, you can't. You just can't.
Why, he's with the Texas Rangers! What's he doing here?
No time! Gotta save the country!
You'd be trampled by the horse, silly.
No thanks, son! I'm travelin' light, travelin' light!
He's on a mission. Don't interfere.
Why, he's with the Pony Express!
No time! Gotta deliver the mail!
He'd knock you down and let his horse trample you. After all, the Pony Express must get through!
Sorry, that ain't got no stamp on it.
Tampering with the Pony Express by shooting the rider is frowned upon.
This is one of the few remaining townspeople. Why they stay, no one knows...
You talkin' to ME?
Well, I...
What am I, some sort of CLOWN to you?
No...
What, do I walk funny or something?
No, and please don't hurt me...
Good! Nice talkin' to ya. Seeya 'round.
You touchin' ME?
I was just...
Maybe you're tryin' to pick my pocket?
Not at all, I just...
Maybe you need a lesson! Well, I'm just the guy to teach it to you!
But...
If you're going to pick someone's pocket, you have to simultaneously apply some sort of pressure to another part of their body. F'rinstance, squeeze their upper arm, and at the same time, gently remove their wallet. Here, let's run through it a few times...
I'm sorry, I really don't have the time. Thanks, anyway.
Okay, well, let me know!
Don't GIVE it to me! Hide it in my pocket! Sneak it into my jacket! Try to... oh, never mind, you'll never be any good at pick-pocketing.
There's no need to waste your ammo on HIM. You could pump twenty rounds into him and he STILL wouldn't shut up.
One of the few remaining townspeople wanders around, trying to find a decent opera house that's still open.
Hi.
Talkative fella, ain't he?
You like the poncho, eh? The poncho, she's pretty, eh? I getta you a poncho some day!
No thanks, sonny, but have you thought about purchasing some life insurance? You know, in these days of toil and strife, we have to prepare for the...
Pardon me, I think I hear someone burning or something.
You can't be serious! What's his crime? What did he ever do to you?
That's Mrs. Tucker, one of the respectable women of the town. "Respectable" meaning she doesn't SELL it!
Nice day, ain't it?
Please! Do you always go shoving people?
I didn't shove you.
I accept your apology.
I work for what I have. I don't want people giving me things.
Golly, I was just trying to help.
Hmph!
Just because she's unpleasant doesn't mean she deserves to die.
That's Ima Flurt, the lunch room lady. Of course, since the schoolhouse only consists of one room, there's not much for Ima to do but waltz around town waiting for someone to build a cafeteria. Nice work if you can get it!
Howdy, ma'am.
She smiles at you. If your heart didn't already belong to Penelope, you might be tempted to ask her to join you for a glass of sarsaparilla.
Ooooh! Right here? In front of everyone?
I suppose that would be indiscreet. Meet me in the parking lot, after the game.
Okay! <tee-hee> My, you're CUTE!
She casts her eyes downward, as if to indicate that she's too shy to accept such a gracious offer. Isn't that endearing?
Hey, you're supposed to be one of the GOOD GUYS! You LIKE this woman!  Remember?
Why, it's Mrs O'Hanahan and her darling little boy, Rocko. The last time they were in your shop you only lost $17.39 in breakables. God willing, they won't be needing any prescriptions filled today!
Do I look like I have time for idle chit-chat? Honestly! Some people think that just because a woman works at home she has scads of free time. Well, let me tell you, I don't! I have the washing, the ironing, the cow to milk, the butter to churn, the barber shop to sweep out, the books to keep... Why, I could just go on and on.  But as usual, I'm in too much of a hurry and a lady never complains about her lot in life.
Not that all the women around here are ladies of course! Why the stories I could tell you about SOME of these women! Not that I know any of them personally of course, but one does hear talk around the barber shop, you know. But really, I am TOO busy to be standing around like this. Good day!
Obviously she's a married lady, and that kid looks like he might bite!
Land sakes, I don't need one of those. My Salvatore gives me everything I need! And I DO mean "everything." Why, just the other day, he plum near worn me out...
Gee, I'd love to hear all about it, but I've got to run.
Yes, they're offensive, but try to avoid retaliation. Remember, you're here to HELP!
Hop Sing is the only chinese person left after the railroad was built. He took a shine to Helen at Mom's Cafe and stayed to help her make a go of it.
Hop Sing doesn't speak English, and your Mandarin is a little rusty.
Hello, Hopalong Singh!
Hi-yah!!!
This not my table!
Hop Singh's a friend, not a foe! So quit pointing that thing at everyone.
Main Street is its usual busy self today.
What are you going to do? Holler loud enough for the whole town to hear?
You'd fall off the balcony if you tried to reach them from here!
You can't try that from up here!
Don't waste your ammo shooting at innocents!
=== 99.msg ===
Caution: the Surgeon General has determined that you've gotten EXACTLY what you deserved.
Next time, don't inhale.
Poor, poor Freddy... died for lack of garlic butter!
The Second Rule of the Old West Medicine Chest: Never drink your own mistakes!
Next time, try drinking something healthier... like radiator sealant.
Next time, don't inhale!
Rest in pieces.
Guess you're a flatlander.
As the town hero, you've been given the sack.
A crushing defeat!
Rest in pieces, Freddy Pharkas.
That's what you get for firing a weapon that hasn't been cleaned since Lincoln was assassinated!
Shooting people point-blank is frowned upon in polite society.
A bubblin' crude! Blood, that is. Red gold. Tourniquet Tea.
You come to a sworded end!
Maybe if you could've caught him red-handed...
It's Slime Time!
Take a burn!
Coarsegold's shot to hell now!
That death is too disgusting to describe!
Dammit, Freddy, you're a pharmacist, not a veterinarian!
You've sold out. Some Western Hero YOU are!
Restore
Restart
    Quit    
An' that's how Freddy met his ironic ol' death... fum ingestin' horsey products that wuz never meant to be ingested. A few days later, all o' Coarsegold got bought up by some mysterious East Coast consortium, and... well... The rest, as they's fond of sayin', is history.
Too bad about thet, y'know. Guess Freddy's constitution couldn't handle th' noxious fumes that wuz expectoratin' through town. Seems to me a man with his edukashun shoulda known whut to do about a simple bit o'flatulence, but hey, I'm just a simple whittlin' sorta story-tellin' entertainin' kinda guy. And thet's m'story for now. Now git along into bed, it's past yer bedtime.
And thet's how Freddy done up and died... from eatin' mollusks without the proper accompanying condiments. And as fer Coarsegold, well, it wuzn't long before it was wiped from the face of the earth. (sob) (sob) (sniffle) (retch)
So, sorry to say, thet's how Freddy Pharkas done up and died. Takin' medication he didn't need were the death of him, and it warn't long afterwards that Coarsegold fell into the hands of... of... Gol durn it, I'm too choked up to tell yuz how it all ended. <sniff>
'Course, the rilly ironic thang is thet Freddy shoulda known better'n to drink that arful patent medicine. It wuz like to pourin' a bottle of grain alkyhol down yer gullet. Freddy died jes' a li'l while later, foamin' at the mouth and pointin' at sum purple wild dingos he thought he wuz seein'. Coarsegold came to a nasty end, whut with the... well, I don't like t' talk about it, it gimmee the ol' white trash blues.
Poor ol' Freddy Pharkas done laughed hisself to death... but the folks of Coarsegold, they wuzn't laughin' two weeks later when the whole town got bought up from underneath 'em. Ol' Willy's done spinnin' yarns fer now. This one always makes me go all teary-eyed and phlegmy.
Well, you gots to admit the fella died tryin' to defend his town. Now, we all either hadda leave town or get shot up anyways, so it's not as if Freddy'd done any real good, but it were still excitin' to have him around fer awhile. I guess that story don't end so good. Lemme see, have I told you th' one about the travelin' band uniform salesman and the librarian? Welp, it seems there was trouble in River City, and they had this pool table, and...
So thet's how Freddy's brilliant career done come to a screechin' halt. He sank into the swamp and wuz never seen again. A shame, too, 'cuz the rest of us were kinda plannin' on bein' in the sequel. That ain't one of my better stories, anyhoo.  Say, did I ever tell ya the story about ol' King Graham? It seems there wuz this evil wizard, and he got Graham into just a peck o' trouble...
Kinda silly, but yep, that's how Freddy died... crushed by a load of bicarbonate while tryin' to put out the fire at the ol' Assay office. The whole town burned to the ground that night, and the British troops got turned back. British Troops?  Waitaminnit, I'm getting confused. OH, okay, now I remembers. It wuzn't Freddy that got squashed by them sacks of powder, that wuz sumthin' else. Lemme go back and figger out what actually DID happen to Freddy Pharkas.
Yep, Freddy fell down, went "boom." It were a sad day, we found 'em all squished and not really livin' anymore. 'Course, we had our own problems to deal with, all of a sudden-like. Thet's about when the town of Coarsegold ceased to exist, as we'd done known it. But thet's another story, boys 'n girls. I gots to be alone wif my thoughts fer awhile.
Nope, Freddy didn't quite make it outta that schoolhouse alive. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Nunh-unh. Penelope, she bought up the whole town, or whut wuz left of it after the explosion, and made a fortune with the oil rights. How wuz we to know the town wuz built on oil fields? We didn't even know whut oil wuz! We warn't STUPID, y'know. Just nobody'd told us whut OIL were! Fer corn's sake! Now I'm riled.  Go tell yerself stories fum now on. Don't even talk to me.
Guess ol' Freddy just warn't thinkin' too well thet day. Them guns hadn't been fired in decades. The resultin' explosion took off Freddy's hands, his forearms, shattered his clavicle and broke his whutcha call your left tibia. He died kinda messy-like a couple hours later. As fer the rest of Coarsegold, well... let's just say it wuz laid to rest not long afterwards.
Yip, Freddy's itchy trigger finger got th' best of him. The sheriff wuzn't about to let Freddy git away with shootin' folks in cold blood. 'Course, the Sheriff pretty much shut down the town a few days later, throwin' everybuddy out inta the street. Never did figger out who he was actin' on behalf of, anyways. And thet's m'story fer now, boys and girls. Mah ol' epiglottis ain't whut she used ta be.
So Freddy were left fer dead, oozin' blood inta the hard-packed dirt of the streets of Coarsegold. Not long afterwards, those who wouldn't git outta their beloved Coarsegold ended up the same way. Life's a real bitch sumtimes, ain't she? Pardon me now, nature's callin'.
Yip, Freddy met his death at the tip of a sword. Too bad, 'cuz he'd gotten so close to savin' Coarsegold from fallin' into Penelope's mercenary clutches. So Penelope went ahead with her little scheme.  She bought up the town real cheap and made millions in the oil industry. She died just a few years back, but she wuz so rich that she had herself froze solid 'til they could find a way to bring her back to life. Ain't that a hoot?
...Mebbe if Freddy'd found sum way to stop "Aces" before he'd won up all the deeds to the town, there'd still be a Coarsegold today. 'Course, Aces weren't actin' on his own, sumbuddy'd put him up to it.  Never found out who or why, though. And as fer me, I got outta town by sundown and hightailed it to the Ozarks, where a man kin still be a man wifout other men questionin' me about bein' manly or not. But that ain't neither here nor there. Now get outta here.
Now it wuzn't as if Freddy didn't have enuf time to stop them snails, but somehow, he screwed it up but good. The snails ran over Coarsegold and slimed it to kingdom come. Those of us thet wuzn't kilt hadda leave town without bringin' anything with us. I wuz one of the ones that didn't make it. Thet's right, sonny! Yer talkin' to a GHOST! BOO!!! Nyah-ha-ha... <cough> <wheeze> <hack>
So 'cuz Freddy couldn't think of a way to put out the fire, all of Coarsegold was in ashes by the next mornin'. The loss of life wuz tree-menjus, but somewhere, sumbuddy was sure happy about it, 'cuz before you knew it... Well, thet's another story, boys 'n girls.
...and them rowdy cowhands, whom sumbody'd hired to come in and skare folks off a bit, ended up shootin' Freddy and chasin' everbody outta town. And as fer Coarsegold, well, none of us ever found out who wuz behind all the evildoin's. Not that we cared. It warn't that much of a town, anyways. Say, did I ever tell ya the story about a little nose-pickin' brat named Willy Beamish? Welp, it all started in this town that wuz mostly strip-malls...
That's how it all ended. Freddy'd let the whole dang town die o' the creepin' cruds. I wuz lucky, I stuck to whisky so's I wouldn't get poizoned by the town's drinkin' water. Iffn only Freddy'd used his pharmacological powers fer the good o' the town. <sigh> Then this story'd mighta had a happier endin'.
So after awhile, most folks in town plum passed out from the noxious fumes. Them that didn't get kilt by the aroma got kilt when sum idjit struck a flint. Anyways, it was a painless way t' go, even if it were kinda nauseating. And Freddy, well, at least he didn't have to reckon with his secret past anymore. Now if Freddy had just thunk a little bit faster an' a little bit smarter, things mighta turned out a mite different. Now, how 'bout another story, or did you wanna hear this one again?
So before he hardly got nowhere, Freddy sold out to the Banker and walked outta Coarsegold with enough cash to start a new life somewheres else. Naah, we don't keep in touch no more. I kinda resent the guy, him sellin' us all down the river and sich. We all hadda give up our propitty after that. For all I know, he died in a pharmacy, and good riddance to him. He wuz never nuttin' special, anyway. I forgit why I even brought him up.
=== 110.msg ===
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Help With ...
=== 150.msg ===
He was born in old St. Louie,
By the age of four Dad knew he was the
Best little crackshot the West had ever seen.
By the time he reached pubescence,
He could outshoot all the adolescents
West of Durango and North of Abilene.
Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Famous gunslingin' deputy.
Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas,
Frontier hero-to-be.
Then one day young Freddy Pharkas
Stared at eyes as black and dark as Night, the
Eyes of an outlaw, well-known throughout the West.
Oh, the tough kid's name was Kenny,
And he outdrew Freddy Pharkas when he
Shot Freddy's ear off, to prove who was the best.
Now our hero, Freddy Pharkas,
With his wounded pride and earless carcass,
Vowed to the heavens to give up gunnery.
He'd be better off, he reckoned,
With the lifelong dream that always beckoned:
Pestles, not pistols, and pharmacology.
Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas,
Highest score on his S.A.T.,
Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Five-year college degree.
After Fred matriculated,
Got his Ph.D. and graduated,
Moved out to Coarsegold and bought a pharmacy,
He's a real prescription writer,
And they don't know he's an ex-gunfighter,
Locked up his mem'ries, repressed them totally.
But his peaceful new survival
Soon was shot to hell upon arrival
Of Coarsegold's schoolmarm, the sweet Penelope.
She has captured Fred's affection,
But he's scared he'll get a huge... rejection,
Can't bear to tell her just what he used to be.
Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Frontier Pharmacist bourgeoisie,
Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Peerless, earless and free!
=== 170.msg ===
Now the whole town still remembers
How the old schoolhouse was blown to embers,
Though Miss Primm's body was never, ever found.
While the Sheriff and the Banker
Left the folks of Coarsegold red with anger,
So, tarred and feathered, they ran 'em out of town.
And Srini, he became an
Ordinary Rexall Teepee Shaman
Down on the Pecos, where Injun hearts still burn.
While the townsfolk, safe from danger,
Talk about that silver-earlobed stranger,
Where did he come from, and when will he return?
Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Black gold fields were his legacy.
Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas.
Peerless, earless and free!
Copyright (c) 1994 Sierra On-Line.
Copyright (c) 1993 Screw Loose Amusements.
Thank you for playing FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
You done REAL good, kid!
Yer final score wuz
out of 999 points! Not bad fer a tenderfoot!
out of 999 points! Hold yer head up high, Buckaroo!
out of 999 points! Yer mama'd be so proud!
Restore
Restart
Continue
Quit
=== 200.msg ===
He looks like he could be a faithful Indian sidekick.
Look out, Freddy--Injuns! No, wait! This one's an Indian. A REAL Indian. From India! He sits atop an anthill, surrounded by swarms of ants, looking trapped. You feel sorry for him. If there were only some way you could help him.
An Indian sits atop an anthill, surrounded by swarms of ants. He looks trapped. You feel sorry for him. If there were only some way you could help him.
Thank you again, Mr. F. I am so much grateful!
Oh? Grateful enough to accept the assistant's position I mentioned earlier? I could really use some help out around the shop.
I would be honored! Where do I begin?
Hello, stranger. I haven't seen you around these parts before. I know it's none of my business, but why are you sitting on top of an active anthill in the heat of this semi-desert sun?
Oh, my formal fellow, I am but a weary traveler from a land far, far away, journeying here peacefully merely to experience the curative powers of your local mineral waters.
How cruel those Yosemite-bound tourists are! My name is Frederick Pharkas. I own the local pharmacy here in Coarsegold.
How do you do, Mr. Pharkas? My name is Srini Lalkaka Bagdnish. Pardon me if I don't get up.
(TO SELF) Hmmm, I've been considering taking on a "loyal Indian sidekick!"
(ALOUD) I'm seeking a new assistant down at the pharmacy? Would you be considering a relocation to this area? You know, Coarsegold offers extremely reasonable housing costs and an abundance of sunny weather.
Well, no, not really, but yes. Perhaps I would be willing. But, as you can readily see, I'm quite busy at this current moment.
Have you considered climbing down and walking away?
I can not possibly do that! Life is sacred. If I were to move, I should indubitably injure some of these small six-legged lifeforms. I'm sure someone will come along soon to the aid of me.
I'll see what I can do, Srini.
Allow me to brush that dust off your robe, my friend.
My thank yous are very much, Mr. Freddy!
May I help you down?
While I appreciate your offer of help, I must remain here. I simply cannot harm an ant, and I can presently ascertain no effective means of dismounting this anthill without hurting another living creature.
How gracious to offer me an empty can of beans! I am afraid I am having not a use in mind for such a can of nothing.
I am afraiding the ice pick will not present me with any assistance.
The charcoal is a most gracious offer, however I am having no hibachi at this moment.
Rein? Rein? Go away, come again another day. That is a poem which I just conceived.
I do not eat beef, snails, or ham. I do not eat them, Fred, I am.
I am not needing empty bottles. I have already evacuated myself several times, with great ceremony.
I am thinking a key is not opening the way to escape for me, though yours is a most gracious offer.
The ladder might assist my situation, however I am not in positioning to maneuver it thusly to facilitate escapage.
Unfortunately, I am not conversant with the traditional rope-climbing trick of my countrymen, and thus your rope will not be of helpage.
I am not caring to be lassoed, thank you! I prefer to die with dignity than be yanked so unceremoniously like a most common livestock.
A candle wax is a most beautiful thing to become one with, but I am afraid my ability to commune with paraffin has been impaired upon my present situation.
I am appreciating the offer now! However, no matter which clothes I am appareling, my predicament remains a puzzlement.
It will be ready Tuesday. Just having a joke upon you. I know nothing of this claim check.
Wanna put the boots on? That way, at least you wouldn't be walking on ants in your bare feet!
Ah, that is generously of an idea, but I still would end up putting to an end the lives of many precious ants.
I am not caring to read your personal mail right this dying moment!
I prefer not to ingest the prescriptions of others, although I am thanking you presently.
I prefer not to ingest the prescriptions of others, although I am thanking you presently.
These snails are the leading edge of a stampede of imported French escargot, recently escaped from a haughty San Francisco restaurant, being chased by a posse of snooty San Francisco chefs. They appear to stretch to the horizon, and they're heading straight for town. If you don't do something soon to prevent them, they'll slime the entire city.
Here, snails. Here, boy! Er, here, girl... ah, Here, whatever!
Oh, what's the use? You decide you'll never be able to train a snail to come when you call, let alone sit up and beg!
Slurp.
Slurp!
SLURP!
Ahhhhhh.
You grab a couple of snails from the front of the pack while imagining the aroma of warm drawn butter.
You have more than enough snails already!
Umm. Skewered snails sound so special! (But wrong.)
You could try to kill all those snails by smashing each of them with your beer bottles, but it would take forever. However, they DO look thirsty.
Hey, boys! It's Miller time!!
And with that, you cleverly pour bottle after bottle of Sam Andreas's St. Louis brew onto the dusty road in an attempt to divert the stampede. Will it work? Will the snails fall for your ruse? Will they accept a "domestic?"
Slurping their little hearts out (if snails may be said to slurp, or to have hearts for that matter!), the little guys "follow your lead" straight over to the cliff beside Blackwater Creek.
Isn't that cute? They're so gullible! Don't they look just like little lemmings, marching over that cliff?
The local insect population has been thriving, what with all the dry weather Coarsegold's been having lately. This is one of the smaller anthills around the town.
Hey, what are you ants dune here, anyway?
They don't even stop, let alone crack a smile!
You really have no desire to touch that anthill, nor do you wish to further your entomologic collection at this time.
I've got it, Srini! I know how I can help you!
Here you go, pardner. Hoof your way across this!
Ooooh! My balance sense is stretching now.
You made it!
Oh, thank you, Mr. P! You saved me! 
Please don't call me that.
Don't leave the ladder lying around unless you have a specific reason to do so!
The ants aren't hurting anyone! Why dig up their home? How would you like someone to come along and throw dirt around YOUR home? (Okay, bad example.)
As far as the eye can see, the landscape is filled with rocks... and not much else.
Prickly pear cactus is one of your favorite examples of the species.
You simply can't stand the thought of pricking yourself.
The road leads off around the Sierra Nevada foothills to Oakhurst... and its famous floppy disk mines.
The road is dusty and uninformative.
(BEATNIK LIKE) The road is packed solid. You just can't dig it, man.
The rickety old bridge over Blackwater Creek has seen better days. At least it's in better shape than the railroad trestle over there.
But... but... but that's the piece that holds together the ENTIRE BRIDGE! (Well, actually, it's not, but you were really scared there for a second, eh? You weren't?)
Old timers tell of bygone days when the Fish Camp & Pacific Railroad's heavy industrial traffic kept these rails as bright as new. No more.
Once the Fish Camp & Pacific Railroad ran through here, but when their trestle washed out back in '73, they never got around to rebuilding it. It remains there today, a blatant assault on liability standards everywhere.
The rails glisten in the sun, covered with homebrew.
Oh, railroad tracks, what do I DO? What do I DO?
You hope they'll put you on the right track. But they don't answer. And now you've lost your train of thought!
You slide your hand back and forth across the rusty tracks, getting a little rust-burn in the process.
The rusty tracks now feel a little sticky from the sun-dried beer that the snails missed.
While you love the drama of breaking open a bottle of beer on a ribbon of steel, you'll retain more brew by using a bottle opener.
unused msg
You don't have time to be walking around dumping beer all over the place.  You've got flatulent horses to attend to!
The locals say this creek wasn't nearly so deep back in the old days. You suppose it's just another example of the creative activities of that famous Armenian landscape artist: Soil Erosion.
You just can't face exploring that cliff face!
A few buzzards have landed here, waiting for some unfortunate life form to become "Vulture Chow."
Poor Cedric the Owl! He'll never delay another scene change!
Leave that poor owl alone, you vicious fiends!
They ignore you completely.
Farewell, Cedric! We hardly knew ye.
While you might want to do something to those buzzards, they're simply living out their portion of the West's ecology.
As much as you want to join in, leave Cedric's carcass for the buzzards.
Your sharp eyes spot a distinctive cloud of dust. It's snailsign! Thar's a stampede a'comin'!
They can't hear you from this far away.
There's nothing you can do from this far away, Freddy.
Cedric the Owl looks lost and out-of-place in the hot desert sun. If you listen close, you can almost hear him say, "Freddy, if you're going to go in THERE, I'm going to wait out HERE." (He always has some flimsy excuse!)
It's the torn, bloody remains of a talking owl.
Hey! You!
(CEDRIC LIKE) You can almost hear Cedric squawk, "I'm waiting here! It's too dangerous out there!" Apparently some adventurer is out in the desert, and the owl's waiting to annoy him when he gets back.
Cedric? Can you hear me?
You almost believe you can hear a weakly-croaked, "Ohhhhh nooooo... I'll... stay... out... here... <gasp>"
Gee whillikers, you can't quite reach that owl from here. (Too bad; you'd like to wring his neck!)
You dare not; those buzzards will vigorously defend their capture.
Nasty fire ants are swarming around the poor potential Indian Sidekick seated at the top of their anthill. Why, a hungry gaggle of ants like that could strip the flesh off an Indian Sidekick in minutes, leaving nothing but white Sidekick Bones. Better find some way to get him offa there!
A dense swarm of dense fire ants diligently attempts to collect plenty of sand for the coming winter. Just a few more trips and they'll have it all!
The majesty of the painted desert stretches out into infinity, seemingly lasting forever yet going nowhere at all... just like life in Coarsegold!
There's nothing there to talk to except dust and dirt (none of which makes for stimulating conversation).
The desert and sky are much too far away for you to feel anything except a rapidly-approaching sunburn.
There's nothing under the sand and rocks but more sand and rocks. Oh, perhaps a few scorpions, out trolling for adventurers.
You've cleverly used the ladder as a bridge between the rocks and the anthill, allowing Srini to escape without crushing any ants. (And you got some points, too!)
Some splendid saguaro cacti dot the countryside.
You're not thirsty for cactus juice right now!
Oh, no! You've taken too long! You'll NEVER turn those snails back now!
So Freddy headed on back to the Pharmacy, followed by the eternally grateful Srini Lalkaka Bagdnish. Seems like Freddy'd not only found hisself a new assistance at the Pharmacy, but also a good friend as well!
Looks like Hop Singh is headed out of town, along with his student, Kwai Chang Grasshopper.
Hey, Hop!
Freddy! Hey, take care, man. I'm outta here.
But... why?
Well, Mom's closed, and I hear the streets of San Francisco are paved with snails. So I'm going to take my unique blend of culinary expertise (specializing in traditional American frontier fare executed with a Near Eastern blend of herbs and spices) and quaint, rustic Chinese movie dialect, and open a restaurant with my old partner, Dhap Dhance!
Oh, no! Singh and Dhance, together again!
Well, take care, Hop. Good luck to you.
Same to you, Freddy!
Please! Not in front of grasshopper!
No thanks, Freddy... I'm travelin' light!
You'd never do something like that to your friend Hop Singh! (It would be a waste of ammo.)
=== 210.msg ===
The rusty tracks of the Fish Camp & Pacific Railroad used to continue across the trestle here, and wended their way to exciting, far-off places like Fresno. The train doesn't come here anymore, ever since the trestle collapsed and the train sunk into the swamp. No more lumber shipments. No more ice deliveries. No more personal hygiene products.
You never dreamed this rusty track would be slick enough for those snails to slide off into Blackwater Creek.
You slide your hand back and forth across the rusty tracks, getting a little rust-burn in the process.
It's the Old Bridge. The only thing that keeps this Bridge out of the river's mouth is Poly-Grip!
Whew! That was a close one! Considering the condition of this old bridge, you may only have about three crossings left.
But... but... but that's the piece that holds together the ENTIRE BRIDGE! (Well, actually, it's not, but you were really scared there for a second, eh? You weren't?)
That's too stupid an idea to even justify a funny response.
Say... what have those horses and sheep been up to, anyway?
Reverend Hallelujah's horses mosey around in his corral.
Reverend Hallelujah's replaced his horses with sheep. Perhaps it's their day in the sun.
Reverend Sy Hallelujah's corral is empty.
Don't open the corral! You'll let the... the... what are they, anyway?  Shorses? Heeps? Anyway, you'll let them out.
Don't open the corral! You'll let the horses out.
Don't open the corral! You'll let the sheep out.
Don't open the corral! There's nothing inside to see.
You can't go digging in the Reverend's corral!
You wonder why the waters of Blackwater Creek are so black. And gooey. And disgusting.
Wouldn't it be nice to trail your hand lazily in the cool waters of Blackwater Creek? No, it wouldn't, because the currents would lazily rip your arm off.
The cliffs here drop off sharply, plummeting dramatically to the water below. A guy could get killed walking off there! You make a mental cliffs note to avoid doing so.
You can't reach the cliffs from here. Besides, your specialty is pharmacology, not geology.
What were you going to try to do, MOVE the cliff one shovelful at a time?
The Robertson Cliffs overlook the thick, beautiful, shimmering waters of Blackwater Creek. The Old Bridge still offers shaky access to the desert to the west.
Who, or what, do you think you're talking to?
Yes, the scenery is so beautiful that you'd love to take it with you. But you can't. This is real life, not some weird computer game.
There's nothing there to be dug up!
A gush of some sort of thick gooey sludge slops over the rapids below.
You can't reach it from here... fortunately for you! It looks disgusting!
Ah, a child is playing by the side of the bridge. How delightful!
'Morning, son! I can remember playing right by this very bridge when I was your age!
What a liar you are. You were born in Old St. Louie!
Oh, yeah?
Yeah, I listened to the Prologue like everybody else. In fact, I can't get the darned thing out of my head. I've been hearing it in my sleep. Thanks, loads.
Even during these violent and lawless times, kidnapping is frowned upon.
This child's parents always said not to take strange objects from pharmacists.
How nice! Clarice, one of the Reverend's sheep, is grazing in the grass where the horses once frolicked. (No doubt the Reverend, sooner or later, will have both sheep for dinner!)
One of Reverend Sy's horses is out frolicking in the spring sun. Well, maybe it's not FROLICKING exactly.
It's a horse! No, it's a sheep! No need to fight, kids! It's BOTH! It's a "heep!" (Or maybe a shorse?)
Here, sheep, sheep, sheep!
Clarice the Lamb remains silent. She seems to be smiling quietly to herself about something. How mysterious!
Here, horsey, horsey, horsey!
There's no response. Maybe he's too horse to talk right now!
Here, heep, heep, heep!
This creature ignores you, so you try again.
Here, shorsey, shorsey, shorsey!
This one is apparently way too concerned with racial separatism and the effects of cross-breeding in the barn to bother with you.
You don't need a sheep to finish the game. (Though we wanted to put one in the box for each and every one of you!)
The horse is humming "Don't Fence Me In" and doesn't care to be petted.
You can't reach that heep from here! And you're not sure you want to!
The good Reverend has set Hannibal, one of his sheep, out to graze.
This is one of Reverend Sy Hallelujah's horses. (Or so you've herd!)
Hmmm, maybe the Reverend should separate the horses from the sheep in the stables from now on!
Here, sheep, sheep, sheep!
Hannibal the Lamb remains silent. He appears to be stealing glances back at the stable, where the horses are hanging out. What GIVES between these animals?
Here, horsey! Here, horsey!
The horse seems to be saying, "Here, meaning what? Here, meaning if I come over there, I'll get a patronizing pat on the nose for my trouble? I smell no carrots on you! I smell no lumps of sugar! Forget you!"
Here, heep, heep, heep!
He... she... IT... doesn't even look your way, so you try another approach:
Here, shorsey, shorsey, shorsey!
This one seems to be way too burdened with its own identity problems to bother conversing with you.
The sheep doesn't need any of your help to climb over the fence!
The horse is too far back from the fence for you to touch.
The shorse is way out of reach. Which is probably a good thing!
=== 220.msg ===
That block of iron is just a wee bit too heavy for you to cart around.
It's an anvil, cast of iron and really very heavy.
That street is staying right where it's been not paved.
Balance Street leads to the north side of town between the bank and the saloon.
The Bank's locked. That's odd! Where's P.H. Balance? 
It's night. The Bank is locked. You can either wait 'til morning when it opens again, or wait 95 years 'til they install a 24-hour ATM.
Here stands the only bank in town, The First Bank of Bob. The original owner must've had a hard time coming up with an original name for his establishment.
You daringly insert your finger into the bullet hole for no good reason.
That bullet hole has been in the front window of the bank ever since that outlaw came through these parts way back in the demo.
This is Reverend Sy Hallelujah's corral.
As generous as he is, Reverend Hallelujah wouldn't appreciate your digging up his corral.
For one brief shining moment, there truly was a place called "Cattle Lot!"
You've already taken the really great charcoal hunks.
Digging through Smithie's formerly white-hot forge, you find an unused hunk of charcoal which you decide may well be of use to you. So you keep it.
You better keep your hands outta that forge, Freddy... it's hotter than a Fresno roofer in August! (To use the local vernacular.)
Smithie's once-proud forge is cold and dark.
Smithie is proud to have the biggest forge in the Sierra!
Hay is for horses.
Smithie keeps some hay baled up here, just for while the horses are in the shop.
You bravely, stupidly grab ANOTHER steaming, fly-laden horse plop. This is getting old!
How convenient! There's another horse plop on the street. (Why don't people learn to curb their horses?)
Never approach a horse from the rear! (For several reasons, at least one of which is utterly disgusting.)
Apparently, most of the lower half of the horse is in a chop shop somewhere in Los Angeles by now!
Poor girl! Did some vandals come by and strip you down?
Stop being silly. No one can talk to a horse. (Of course.)
With his refurbished shootin' skills, Freddy wuz able to blast the Lever Brothers to smithereens! Now, with those varmints outta the way, Freddy'd figured that wuz the end of the story... that somehow the Lever Brothers wuz responsible for ever'thang that'd bin goin' on in town.
But Freddy wuz WRONG! The Lever Brothers had been hired fer the task of gittin' rid of Freddy, by whomever'd hired the cowhands... and whomever wuz in cahoots with Sheriff Shift and P.H. Balance! And no sooner had Freddy's guns stopped smokin', than he heard a familiar twang and a few chords o' someone's theme music.
What was that? Could it be? Nah. What would he be doing way out here, in the middle of nowhere? You haven't heard that chord in years, and yet, here it is again, strangely recognizable after all this time.... In your heart, you know it must be him. And, yet...
How did he find you? Will he be fooled by your disguise? Does he still eat paste?
Dummy Msg.
What's that rotten smell? Oh, no! It can't be! You recognize that smell from your old days as a lawman... More dangerous than Jesse James... Meaner than Johnny Ringo... Deadlier than William Muny... (More fun at cocktail parties than Rooster Cogburn!) ...it's the legendary Lever Brothers!
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Dummy msg.
Yep, it's us, handsome silver-eared stranger!
And we're here to put you six feet under!
Under what?
Your fervent prayer is that your few minutes of target practice with Srini will be sufficient preparation for odds like this....
You tug on the rail, but it seems firmly planted.
This is a good place to get hitched!
The corner of Balance and Main isn't going anywhere. (At least, not until the next big earthquake hits California!)
You're here at the busy corner of Balance Street, which runs north-south, and Main Street. Well, it's USUALLY busy. Well, it was busy once.
Your shovel would break. And you'd get splinters in your hands and dirt in your eyes.
Funny, there's no answer from that.
You take the rope. Now that Smithie's closed up shop, he won't be missing it.
Smithie left behind a coil of rope.
You can't reach him from here!
Matt Shaker is shaking his doormat out the window again. It's best not to walk underneath.
Hey, Matt! Quit that! You're getting dust all over everything!
Funny, Matt pays no attention to you.
You don't have a horse, whatta you need a saddle for?
If this old worn-out saddle could only talk... it would probably complain about the prevalence of beans in the standard cowhand diet.
From the condition of Coarsegold's sidewalks, it's easy to surmise the town lawyer left for greener pastures years ago!
You know it does no good to close the barn door once the Smithie's gone away!
Let Smithie decide if he wants his doors open or closed.
Smithie has truly left town for good.
It's the door to Smithie's Blacksmith shop.
I don't use none o' that moustache wax, Pharkas! I let muh soup keep muh moustache plastered in place!
Dab-nab it, Pharkas! Real men jes' don' go 'round a'touchin' other real men!  'Specially when they're as homophobic as we is!
Har! Muh hide's tough as leather, Pharkas. That thang'd just break off at the handle.
Smithie, the village blacksmith, is a real hulk of humanity.
Whut the Sam Hill y'expeck me to do with that medicine, Pharkas? I'm a strong, beefy kinda guy, I don't need no wuss medication!
I don' know nuttin' 'bout writin', Pharkas. That's more in your depar'ment.
You know, Smithie, I've been wondering about that horse of yours. What happened?
Consarn neighborhood kids! Ya jes' can't leave anything outside at night any more without 'em strippin' it right down to the axles!
How's business, Smithie?
Flatter'n cow plop, Pharkas! An' you?
Actually, I'm doing okay. Not great, but I'm making it... in spite of this mild economic downturn we've been experiencing.
Bah! If'n I could find me a buyer, I'd unload this dump in a second!
Whoa! Thank ya, Mr. Pharkas. I always love a belt about this time o' the mornin'!
You recall with fondness, that wonderful old blacksmith who used to operate this shop.  What the hell was his name, anyway?
"Under the village chestnut tree, the spreading smithie stands..." ...No wait, that's not how it goes.
Mr. Smith, the village blacksmith, is locally known as "Smithie" to his friends and customers. 
To the best of your recollection, you've never even heard his first name, not that it matters much. "Smithie" seems like a perfect name for a smithie!
Hey, knock off the sound effects already!
You take the leather strap. Smithie won't be needing it now, wherever he is!
A length of leather bridle hangs on the Smithie's door. 
Feels just like the streets of St. Louis... only some of the streets of St. Louis are paved!
Once Coarsegold's brave pioneer settlers predicted Main Street would rival the Champs d'Elysee, Van Ness Boulevard, or Broadway. Now it rivals the Oregon Trail and is about as smooth!
There's nobody buried under the street here. (After all, this is when the word Teamsters began with a lowercase T!)
You don't need any algae.
Horses always appreciate a drink of nice fresh water from these green slimy troughs.
It's just an old wreck. It won't help you.
This wagon has been lying here in this sad state of disrepair ever since Mr. Leech, the carriage-maker, headed back East to Detroit.
=== 230.msg ===
Oooph!
You've always assumed the Golden Balls Saloon must once have been a pawn shop.
You leave that Saloon right where it is, buckaroo.
Mom's Cafe must have good food-- it's where all the stagecoaches stop!
You can't reach it from here, but you can just see that thin layer of cooking grease glistening off the building.
Peering through Mom's greasy glass, you can see she's open for business. You've always been fond of Mom's cooking... at least, the first time it goes down!
You feel a twinge of guilt, knowing you were at least partially responsible for Mom's closing. You vow to make it up to her, somehow.
If Mom catches you smearing her windows, she'll smear your face.
Rain barrels are such an important aspect of life in an arid, drought-scourged landscape like this. Water running off the buildings' roofs is channeled through gutters and downspouts into storage... Oh, wait a minute. This is just an old whisky barrel. Forget it!
No, no, no! |c2|Tuesday|c| is your turn in the barrel!
You do your "Peeping Freddy" routine with the Hotel window. Furtive shadows steal across the walls inside. What little light seeps into the Hotel plays teasingly at vague forms and shapes. (How nauseatingly poetic!)
You address the hotel window:
You've made yourself perfectly clear! Hee hee hee!
(You're losing it, Freddy.)
Rubbing your finger on the hotel window barely removes any dirt. (Apparently there was more dirt going on INside than OUTside!)
You really can't reach that window from here. But hey, a Pharmacist's reach should exceed his grasp!
It's locked, stock and barrel!
Your arms aren't quite that long!
Mom's Cafe awaits the hearty traveler who has a thing for good food-- but isn't afraid to eat here anyway!
A crudely-lettered sign reads, "Mom's's Cafe's dun bin closed by order of the sheriff. Health Code violations is all the reason he needs!"
Mom's closes up at night, ever since the Great Kerosene Shortage of '85.
Heeeelllloooooow!
But there is no response from within Mom's Cafe.
Mom! I'm hungry!
From inside, you hear Mom reply, "You'll get indigestion! It's not good to eat so close to bedtime! Come back tomorrow!"
It's locked! Mom's is closed! Sheriff Shift strikes again! (And stomachs all over town are heaving... sighs of relief!)
Mom's seems to be locked.
Going to swing down like Tarzan? Wrong kinda movie!
The Golden Balls Saloon is presently open. Since it only has swinging doors, it's ALWAYS open!
The remains of the Sugar Pine & Coarsegold's Engineer's Shack lie rotting on the south side of Main Street.
Don't go poking in that hazardous eyesore. (The same warning applies to the Brothel!)
These hitching posts serve as an excellent means of stabilizing unmanned horses.
You deliver a swift karate chop to the post. Excellent! One or two more and you'll have it completely broken. (Your hand, not the post.)
Peering between every crack in the hotel's board sidewalk makes you 'board' yourself!
You rip the porch off of the hotel and put it in your pocket, just in case you need a porch later in the game. Kidding. Just a little adventure game humor there. Don't bother looking in your inventory.
You can't reach the porch from here.
Ah, many's the young cowpoke who had to quickly lower himself off of this balcony with a bunch of knotted sheets. (Usually stark nekkid!)
Considering all the abuse given to this balcony over the years from stuntmen, it's in surprisingly good shape.
Mom's front porch is almost as large as her rear entry.
Poor Mom. You almost wish you hadn't dumped that horse patty inside her eating area. But-- you vow to make it up to her somehow!
Many an early-morning customer of yours has spent the night sleeping on these well-stained boards.
They hang porch-rustlers in these parts.
The door to the Hotel is locked. The hotel was shut down unexpectedly. This put a total of two desk clerks and five working girls out of jobs. (Fortunately, there weren't any maids, or they'd have been fired, too!)
Anybody in there?
There's no response.
Okay, I'll take that as a "no!"
You yank the knob a few times, but nothing happens. Then you try to open the door to the closed Hotel. No luck there, either.
That would be quite a trick... opening the Hotel door from the balcony. You're not quite up to it. (Or down to it, as the case may be!)
Once the heart of a thriving business district, there's not much left of beautiful downtown Coarsegold now.
Und chust how long haf you had zees desire to talk mit inanimate objects?
It feels like part of the ambience that makes Coarsegold so priceless! (Or should that be "worthless"?)
The ground is too hard-packed here.
Sam Andreas has a tough time keeping these large plate glass windows intact, since he's developed a habit of throwing rowdies out through them!
Careful, you never know when some airborne wino is going to come flying outta that window.
Now there's a guy who's in constant pane!
Poor fellow. It doesn't pay to pick a fight with Sam Andreas!
There's no use talking to him. He's out cold.
You'd like to help him. But he IS full of shards of glass, and you HATE the sight of blood!
He doesn't need anything except a lifetime supply of Mercurochrome!
The window has been smashed into teeny weeny pieces. Fortunately, Sam has the foresight to install Safety Glass!
Cutting yourself on the sharp edges of the broken window might make for some memorably disgusting animation, but it would also be an incredibly stupid thing for you to do.
Poor Sam Andreas! It's a good thing he waters down his whisky so much, or else all of his profits would be consumed by glaziers.
You are surprised to see Billy, the town handyman, boarding up The Dirty Sheet Hotel.
Don't you find it frustrating to keep replacing that plate glass, Billy?
Nope. I find it a real crack-up.
Billy, the town handyman and jack-of-all-trades, is boarding up yet another Coarsegold business, the "Dirty Sheets Hotel," the finest hostelry in all of Eastern Madera County. (Okay, so maybe it was only the best after that other hotel shut down, but in its day, The Dirty Sheet was really something!)
Say, Billy! When did the ol' Dirty Sheet fold?
Oh, g'mornin' Mr. Pharkas. Why, just yestaday. It was a surprise to me too. Nobody told me nuttin' 'bout it until they gave me these boards.
I'd like to shake your hand, Billy. You are doing a fine job!
He looks at you a little funny.
Here, Billy!
No thanks, Mr. Pharkas! I've already got one of those!
Shhhyeah, right.
How nice! A pile of horse plop is baking in the sun, right in the middle of the road. (You make a mental note: hurry up and get around to inventing the Poop Scoop.)
You bravely, stupidly grab ANOTHER steaming, fly-laden horse plop. This one is even more texturey than the last one!
Apparently Mom's jumping on the comedy club bandwagon.  The sign reads,  "Coming soon -- Open Megaphone Night. Take your best shot! You'll die laughing!"
It's too dark to make out what's written on that bunting.
The fabric has been pre-treated to resist those pesky dust storms, stampedes, flash floods, tsunamis, monsoons, and droughts.
Not from down here, you can't!
You've got no reason to put the canister on the railing. (At least, not YET.)
|c0|FORESHADOWING ALERT! FORESHADOWING ALERT!|c|
It's the canister of nitrous oxide. You put it there yourself. Remember?
You decide that the canister of nitrous oxide would look better somewheres else.
Just fly there. (NOT!!)
Freddy Pharkas? You wuz askin' about Freddy Pharkas? The man whut saved Coarsegold, only nobody knowed it wuz him? Why, jes' hop up here on ol' Whittlin' Willy's lap and I'll tell ya all about it.
=== 235.msg ===
Oooph!
No, no, no! |c2|Tuesday|c| is your turn in the barrel!
Rain barrels are such an important aspect of life in an arid, drought-scourged landscape like this. Water running off the buildings' roofs is channeled through gutters and downspouts into storage... Oh, wait a minute. This is just an old whisky barrel. Forget it!
The fabric has been pre-treated to resist those pesky dust storms, stampedes, flash floods, tsunamis, monsoons, and droughts.
Apparently Mom's jumping on the comedy bandwagon. The banner reads,  "Coming soon -- Open Megaphone Night. Take your best shot! You'll die laughing!"
It's too dark to make out what's written on that bunting.
Not from down here, you can't!
You've got no reason to put the canister on the railing. At least, not YET.
|c0|FORESHADOWING ALERT! FORESHADOWING ALERT!|c|
You can't reach it from here, but you can just see that thin layer of cooking grease glistening off the building.
Mom's Cafe must have good food -- all the stagecoaches stop there!
You decide that the canister of nitrous oxide would look better somewhere else.
Just fly there. (NOT!!)
It's the canister of nitrous oxide. You put it there yourself. Remember?
Please, stranger. I'm simply not in the mood. Why don't you go bother Trixie, the Accommodating Sheep?
Here, Chester. Maybe it'll help you through these tough times.
No thank you, sir. I still have my dignity. That's the one thing they can't take away from me.
You've never seen Chester Field look so downtrodden. Why, he looks like he's lost his best friend. He's wearing a sandwich board, upon which has been VERY hastily scribbled, "Will polish ears for stagecoach fare."
Polish your ear, Mister? I'm trying to get stagecoach fare to Chicago.
No thanks, Chester. I'm broke. But hey, doesn't the trip to Chicago by stagecoach take just about forever?
Well, yes, but I've always wanted a life on the stage!
(ba-dump bump!)
Hoping Chester won't recognize you with your new disguise, you approach him with a friendly smile.
Say, pardner, that's a woeful little sign you're carrying there, "Will polish ears for stagecoach fare." What's the problem? Why so down on your luck?
Well, I'll tell you, even though I usually don't talk to silver-disguised strangers. There's a man inside who's the best gol-damned poker cheat I've ever seen. I never even knew he's was stealing my store until it wuz all over. You see, I bet everything I owned, including my store, on a queen-high straight flush! And that son of a gun had a king-high!
Don't feel bad, fella, I would have probably done the same. By the way, did you get this gambler's name?
Name? Shore did. Wheaton Hall is his name, but everybody calls him 'Aces.' And I kin see why!
Thanks for your time, and I hope things work out for you! I think I might just pay Mr. Aces a little call!
Good luck to you stranger, if'n yur a'gonna git inta that game!
Thanks. I'm wearing my lucky neckerchief, so I'm not too worried.
Shhyeah, right. Are those bloodstains on there?
Don't go poking in that hazardous eyesore. (The same warning applies to the Brothel!)
The remains of the Sugar Pine & Coarsegold's Engineer's Shack lie rotting on the south side of Main Street.
Considering all the abuse given to this balcony over the years from stuntmen, it's in surprisingly good shape.
Ah, many's the young cowpoke who had to quickly lower himself off of this balcony with a bunch of knotted sheets. (Usually stark nekkid!)
You yank the knob a few times, but nothing happens. Then you try to open the door to the closed Hotel. No luck there, either.
That would be quite a trick... opening the Hotel door from the balcony. You're not quite up to it. (Or down to it, as the case may be!)
The door to the Hotel is locked. The ol' Dirty Sheet was shut down unexpectedly putting a total of two desk clerks and five working girls out of jobs. (Fortunately, there weren't any maids, or they'd have been fired, too!)
Anybody in there?
There's no response.
Okay, I'll take that as a "no!"
You rip the porch off of the hotel and put it in your pocket, just in case you need a porch later in the game. Kidding. Just a little adventure game humor there. Don't bother looking in your inventory.
You can't reach the porch from here.
Peering between every crack in the hotel's board sidewalk makes you "board" yourself!
Rubbing your finger on the hotel window barely removes any dirt. (Apparently there was more dirt going on INside than OUTside!)
You really can't reach that window from here. But hey, a pharmacist's reach should exceed his grasp!
You do your "Peeping Freddy" routine with the hotel window. Furtive shadows steal across the walls inside. What little light seeps into the hotel plays teasingly at vague forms and shapes. (How nauseatingly poetic!)
Your arms aren't quite that long!
It's locked, stock and barrel!
Mom's seems to be locked.
It's locked! Mom's is closed! Sheriff Shift strikes again! Stomachs all over town are heaving... but this time it's sighs of relief!
Mom's Cafe awaits the hearty traveler who has a thing for good food-- but isn't afraid to eat here anyway!
Mom's closes up at night, ever since the Great Kerosene Shortage of '85.
A crudely-lettered sign reads, "Mom's's Cafe's dun bin closed by order of the sheriff. Health Code violations is all the reason he needs!"
Mom! I'm hungry!
(OFF MIKE) You'll get indigestion! It's not good to eat so close to bedtime! Come back tomorrow!
Heeeelllloooooow!
But there is no response from within Mom's Cafe.
Mom's front porch is almost as large as her rear entry.
Poor Mom. You almost wish you hadn't dumped that horse patty inside her eating area. But-- you vow to make it up to her somehow!
Peering through Mom's greasy glass, you can see she's open for business. You've always been fond of Mom's cooking... at least, the first time it goes down!
You feel a twinge of guilt, knowing you were at least partially responsible for Mom's closing. You vow to make it up to her, somehow.
You deliver a swift karate chop to the post. Excellent! One or two more and you'll have it completely broken. (Your hand, that is!)
These hitching posts serve as an excellent means of stabilizing unmanned horses.
It feels like part of the ambience that makes Coarsegold so priceless! (Or should that be "worthless?")
Once the heart of a thriving business district, there's not much left of beautiful downtown Coarsegold now.
What are you gonna do, hang off the balcony and steal their hats? Dream on!
A whole fleet of rowdy cowhands seems to have invaded Main Street. They're shooting around indiscriminately (the barbarians!). Did they do this just for the fun of it? Or did somebody put them up to it?
That's the germ of an idea. Unfortunately, you need some way to make SURE that gas gets set off!
|c0|Hey, you guys! CUT IT OUT!|c|
They can't even hear you above the sound of their own obnoxious yelling and the frequent gunshots. Looks like you'll have to be just a |c2|bit|c| more forceful.
You encounter dozens of rowdy cowhands from that cattle drive outside of town who are carelessly firing their guns everywhere and frightening (not to mention killing) the locals.
Luckily, the rowdy cowboys don't notice you from down below.
You leave that Saloon right where it is, buckaroo.
You've always assumed the Golden Balls Saloon must once have been a pawn shop.
Going to swing down like Tarzan? Wrong kinda movie!
The Golden Balls Saloon is presently open. Since it only has swinging doors, it's ALWAYS open!
They hang porch-rustlers in these parts.
Many an early-morning customer of yours has spent the night sleeping on these well-stained boards.
Careful, you never know when some airborne wino is going to come flying outta that window.
Sam Andreas has a tough time keeping these large plate glass windows intact, since he's developed a habit of throwing rowdies out through them!
=== 240.msg ===
The Barber Shop is locked up tight at night.
This door leads to Salvatore O'Hanahan's combination barber shop and dental emporium. Just don't ask him about his heritage. He's VERY confused.
Salvatore O'Hanahan, the town barber, doesn't appreciate men touching his pole.
Like all proud red-blooded Italian-Irish-American barbers, Salvatore O'Hanahan is extremely proud of his pole. (Actually, he almost had to give it up when they levied an expensive pole tax!)
Do you have any relatives named Gallup?
Salvatore O'Hanahan's barber shop and dental emporium is still open for business.
Hey, don't take that sign, it isn't yours. It's Salvatore's. He stole it from a barber shop in San Jose!
The sign says "O'Hanahan's Barber Shop."
You can't talk to the sign! (It only knows sign language!)
You wipe a smudge of something off the window.
Hey, this isn't road dirt! It's hair oil!
Peering through the window, you think you see a barber inside!
The stage wuz set fer Freddy's showdown. Wait, did I say "slowdown?" I meant "showdown. No, I DID say "showdown," didn't I? I thought I did, I warn't sure.
You can't reach it from here. Be VERY thankful!
Apparently old Mrs. Murphy is either having a bladder control problem or some sort of lower gastro-intestinal difficulty. In either case, she's certainly doing her part to add to Coarsegold's unique "ambience!"
Hey, Mrs. Murphy! Stop by the Pharmacy, maybe I can help you out.
She calls you something under her breath.
Nothing in there worth sticking your finger in. (The same can be said of the brothel!)
The south side of Main Street holds the remains of the railroad's telegraph office.
Yep, solid Hotel!
The Dirty Sheet Hotel is the latest victim to the present Coarsegold business slump. They suffered from a severe lack of marketing expertise, as witnessed by their choice of names.
You can't get the Post Office to move no matter how hard you push it. (And it's been that way ever since!)
The town Post Office was one of the first victims of the city's demise. It's been closed for years
No need to touch it; it's about to fall off entirely. (Much like tourism in Coarsegold!)
This sign proclaims this as the "Post Office."
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
From inside, you think you can hear a voice say, "Sorry, that's not my window."
The former post office is staffed by a complete work crew. None of them has yet noticed the place closed down years ago.
Those boards are nailed in place with rusty, self-tapping 10-penny locking nails with barbed ends. (In other words: no, you can't pry them off!)
Looks like the door to the Post Office has been removed and replaced with a less attractive barrier.
It feels rough, unpleasant, and cheap. (Just like life in Coarsegold!)
Coarsegold's Main Street was once the center of a thriving metropolis, driven by the tons of gold found hereabouts. Now it's only a shadow of its former self. Mercantile Street leads away into the distance.
The road doesn't need any more potholes, thank you! (But there'd probably be plenty for you to do in Illinois, where potholes are a source of pride!)
In general, you'll have better luck if you try talking to things with MOUTHS!
You encounter dozens of those silly ol' rowdy cowhands from that cattle drive outside of town who are carelessly firing their guns everywhere and frightening (not to mention killing) the locals.
Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in the chest...
You won't need any shcrub.
An unusual plant grows here; it's a cross between scrub grass and shrubs. It's called "Shcrub."
Chester Field runs one of Coarsegold's few remaining shops. Inside you'll find anything you want (if you don't want anything!).
The store's sealed up tight. Locked. Shuttered. Off-limits. Verbotten.  Out of Service. Padlocked. Folded. Bolted. Latched. Finished. Kaput.  Ceased to be. It has expired. This is an ex-General Store.
If it wasn't nailed to the sidewalk, it would be pushing up the daisies. Incidentally, if you're wondering what happens to Chester Field as a result of what happens in this story: He went to Illinois and opened up a store there. They also made him Town Marshal, and he adjusted the name of his store accordingly.
That's right! He called it, "Marshal Field's." (Gaak! Ptooey! Hork!)
The General Store looks closed. Maybe it's your keen intuition. Maybe it's that razor-sharp second sense you have. Maybe it's that "closed" sign on the door that you'd trip over if it were any bigger.
Chester Field's is closed at night.
If you pushed this door, it might open.
You can't take it, it's been specially designed to blend in with Coarsegold's unique and progressive skyline.
This sign says, "Chester Field's Mercantile Co." It may indicate there's a store inside this building.
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
You consider writing "wash me" in the dust in the window, but you're way too mature for that.
You just love to window-shop through windows so dirty you can't see through them. Maybe you should give Chester some window cleaner for Christmas.
With superhuman effort, you lift the wagon and rescue the little girl who was trapped underneath for God-knows-how-long.
Chester Field has been unloading this wagon since last winter.
=== 250.msg ===
The pharmacy door is locked. This ain't Mayberry, pardner!
It's the door to your pharmacy.
I knew that!
You unlock the door. Ta-daa! You're halfway through the game.
You cleverly lock the door.
You unlock the door.
Dang it, no points this time.
That's the wrong key for this door.
Whoops! Wrong key!
That's not the right key for the Pharmacy door!
You added this hitch a few years ago, out of necessity. As they said when you moved in, "You'll never get this pharmacy off the ground without a hitch."
You can yank on that hitchin' post all you want, but you won't get it up. (You may, however, get a hernia.)
The Sheriff must be out. Where could he be? It's over 550 miles to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts!
The door to Sheriff Checkum P. Shift's office. The office also contains a small jail cell, just big enough to hold one or two innocent bystanders.
The Sheriff's window. Not very good at keeping out the rain, but at least nobody's liable to break in. 'Course, who'd wanna break IN?
The bars are set solidly in the mortar. Give it up!
This was Coarsegold's opera house, P.P.'s Playhouse. It was shut down by unpopular demand several months ago, after the owner was found necking with a lamb during a performance of "Ba-aa-aa-bette's Feast."
Leave it to the wrecking crew.
The sign says "Tall & Thin Shop." And hey, it's right! That's just about the tallest and thinnest shop you've ever seen!
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
Leave the sign alone. Let it serve as a reminder to other shopkeepers who would incur the wrath of the good citizens of Coarsegold.
The Tall & Thin shop. The owner narrowly escaped with his life once when he was discovered shortchanging customers.
This place is boarded up tighter than a sheep's heinie on the Ponderosa.
The sign says "PP's Playhouse." Or it used to, anyway. Now it looks more like "PP's dlayhous."
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
You can barely reach that first letter, but even so, you don't feel like taking a big "p" right now.
This is your pharmacy, your home, the center of your universe. The Pharkas Pharmacy. You envision a day when there'll be a string of Pharkas Pharmacy phranchises phrom coast-to-coast.
You don't have room in your pockets for an entire pharmacy.
This is Sheriff Checkum P. Shift's jail and armory. The Sheriff does a mighty fine job of infiltrating the criminal element in town. In fact, he IS the foremost criminal element in town.
It's the most solidly-built structure in town.
You opted for a Colonial-style pharmacy.
You give a resounding thump to the columns. The termites hold their collective breath. The columns seem to be holding! (You and the termites heave a sigh of relief.)
These remnants of the Coarsegold depot are all tumbledown and shot.
This clutter is a local landmark, and as such is protected under the Eastern Madera County "Don't Touch That, It's A Landmark" Act of 1855.
The sign says "Pharkas Pharmacy." This must be the place.
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
You're too short to give it the white-glove test.
Someone with a higher I.Q. than most of the folks in town correctly painted "Sheriff" here.
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
Stealing the Sheriff's sign is something you might've done in your college days, but now you're too... chickenshift.
Can't you read? The sign on the door says CLOSED.
You rattle the doors a bit, but they seem locked for good.
That's the left pharmacy window. With all the dust out here, it's a pane to keep clean.
You'll smudge the dirt.
With all the dust out here, these windows are a pane to keep clean.
Careful! You'll smear the filth.
It's your ordinary water trough, favorite hangout of Coarsegold horses and town drunks. In brighter days, this trough would be filled with sparkling clear, pure mountain spring water, the kind they make into lousy domestic beer. These days, though, all you see in the trough is muddy, dirty ol' stagnant water with a bunch of dead flies floating on top.
You stick your hand into the stagnant water, and all you get is a damp, muddy forearm with a lotta dead flies stuck to it.
You don't wanna get that all soaked with mucky ol' water!
This is one of the Eastern legs of Main Street.
That right there is one lousy conversationalist!
Leave the street alone. It hain't hurtin' nobody.
You must have this game confused with the arcade smash "Dig Dug Dog."
A gigantic pile of 50-pound sacks of baking soda fills the sidewalk in front of your store, nearly blocking the entrance. The baking soda is the "LeGand Hammer" brand, named for the famous international industrialist. His slogan: "Keep one sack in the smokehouse... and another in the stable, to help keep IT clean and fresh-smelling!"
Summoning up superhuman strength, you heft the huge pile of baking soda! Then, with a horrible wrenching, tearing sound, you cram the sacks of baking soda into your pants pocket.
It's Dominick, one of your part-time Native American employees. He works under the professional name "Running Gag." The Union told you that you |c0|had|c| to have a "Cigar Store"-style Indian out in front when you opened your pharmacy, but since there were lots of out-of-work real Indians in the neighborhood, you decided it would be politically correct to hire them.
Morning, Dominick.
Morning, Freddy.
What's new?
Let's see. I finished reading "A Century of Dishonor" last night; quite impressive. That Helen Hunt Jackson really knows how to evoke an image of the white man's treachery. Do you know how many treaties your people have signed and then broken in the past 20 years alone?
Er, excuse me, I hear someone calling me or something.
Please don't take my cigars, Freddy. This is how I make tips. Standing out in front of the store doesn't really do much to guarantee me a secure retirement.
No, thank you, Freddy. I've already got the sun in the morning, and the moon at night.
Use any more and you'll have to pay a royalty.
It's Herbert, one of your part-time employees. Herbert spent the past five years as a Security Guard at F.W. Fleeceworth's in Utica, New York. They downsized, so Herbert moved out West to be closer to his family.
Herbert, how's it hanging?
As usual, Mr. Pharkas. Er... permission to speak freely?
Of course.
I've had an offer from a Bank in Scottsdale. They'd like me to stand inside the lobby and hold checking account brochures.
How much are they offering you?
Five cents a day, plus a commission on the brochures.
Let me look at the books and we'll talk in a couple days. I don't want to lose you.
Thank you, Mr. Pharkas. I don't want to lose you either.
We've spoken about this before, Mr. Pharkas. If you keep touching me, I'll have to speak up if you ever run for office.
What a generous offer, Mr. Pharkas! Unfortunately, Union rules specify that I must turn down tips or gratuities of any sort, unless they're in the form of canoes.
What? You expect me to tip a CANOE?
It's Pete, one of your part-time employees. Pete used to work for a lawn jockey company, but he was fired after puberty when he grew too tall for the business. He's insecure, but he's a good worker.
How goes it, Pete?
Just fine, Mr. Pharkas, just fine! Sure is a nice day today!
Yes, Pete, it's beautiful out.
I was wondering if it might be possible for me to knock off a little early today.
Something in particular going on?
Well, it's just such a nice day, I thought I'd spend a little quality time with the buffalo. Maybe take him to Yosemite, let him run around and do some grazing. You know, the usual.
I suppose that'd be okay. Sure, you can leave early. Just watch out for poachers now, hehe!
Haha! That's a funny one, Mr. Pharkas! I'll be sure to do that! Poachers. Haha! Like anyone would want to do THAT to buffalo! Hehehe!
What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?
No, Pete, I was just picking a hair off your outfit.
Oh. Yeah, my buffalo is shedding again. Happens every spring. You should see my teepee!
That's an extremely nice offer, sir! But I've already got one!
Are you sure?
Oho, yes, it's very nice!
How!
Yeah, yeah.
Time for you shift over!
Oh, puh-leeze. You've been reading too many dime novels. Stop talking like that.
Just trying to please the tourists, Herb.
Sure, sure. Tourists. Whatever. Seeya later, I'm goin' to go soak my corns.
My people call it "maize."
Sheeeeesh.
So Freddy wuz forced to shut down the ol' Pharmacy agin his will. But he vowed to keep the place up, knowin' that someday he'd be openin' it up again. Problem bein', the Sheriff, an ornery cuss if ever there wuz one, wuz doin' this all over town: the hotel, the Playhouse, the Smithie, the Tall 'n Thin Shop, closin' 'em all down on some flimsy pretext.
Board up yer winders 'n' doors! Lock up the wimmen and children! Run fer the border, Louise! Thar's a |c2|stampede|c| a-comin'! A |c2|stam-peeeeede!|c| Hurry up, Freddy! Ya only got a week and a half a'fore they git here.
A week and a half?
They'se SNAILS!
Snails? SNAILS??
Good heavens, this is the worst thing to happen to Coarsegold since the great Hail of Clams back in '83!
Those flies are really enjoying that by-product!
You bravely, stupidly grab the steaming, fly-laden horse plop. Fortunately, it seems to be holding together well as you place it in your pocket.
It's a "closed" sign. The Sheriff had Billy nail it up after he shut you down as a fire hazard. Hmph!
You can't talk to it. (It only knows sign language!)
You'd better leave it up until you've settled this matter once and for all.
That's "Gluteus" Maximillian and his horse (who appears to be wearing one of those hilarious "Whoopee Saddles"). They call him "Gluteus" because he's the butt of every practical joke in town!
Hey, Max!
Max ignores you, but he seems to flinch a bit. Perhaps he thinks you're in on yet another nasty prank!
Stop teasing him, he's too easy a mark.
He just wants to be left alone!
There's something to be said for putting him out of his misery... but he'll recover.
=== 260.msg ===
You don't need any more activated charcoal!
It's boarded up, but there's nothing in there anyway except some worthless old rocks and few petrified cinnamon rolls. Insert your own nauseating joke about "rock and roll" here!
Hot! WHOA, that's hot, boy! Very, very hot!
The char-broiled and blackened remains of the Old Abandoned Assay Office stand on the corner of Main and Edukashun. You suspect that this was the work of either whoever's behind all the destructive goings-on in town... or voracious Louisiana chef Paul Prudhomme!
It's the Old Abandoned Assay Office, once owned by a subsidiary of the Old Abandoned Mine Company. Before the mine shut down, this is where you got your nuggets appraised. (Now you have to go to Madame's for that!)
It's the Old Abandoned Assay Office, once owned by a subsidiary of the Old Abandoned Mine Company. It's burning merrily, which is a source of some concern to you since your pharmacy is right next door. Did somebody purposefully torch it? Wasn't this a "no-burn" day?
Leave it alone. It's too burnt out to talk right now!
<rim shot!>
You just went cow-tipping last night. You can go shanty-tipping some other time. (What percentage does one tip a shanty, anyway?)
It's a sea shanty. (See? Shanty!)
Freddy dragged his bleedin' self over to the Schoolhouse... the anger and hurt wuz jus' rippin' at his gut like a swarm of botflies on roadkill, only worse 'cuz Freddy, unlike roadkill, wuz still alive. The schoolhouse door wuz unlocked fer once, and Freddy walked right on in.
The Old Abandoned Assay Office is ablaze, threatening to burn down not only itself and your pharmacy, but the whole town!
Don't go poking in there; that's where the tramps hang out. If you wanna poke some tramps, go to the Brothel!)
Shrubs and weeds grow amongst the wreck of the old train depot.
Stop trying to horn in on their game. This one's for high rollers only.
The boy doesn't look very receptive to your offer.
It's one of the young townsboys, diligently trying to make his point. (In this case, it's a six.)
Are you trying to make a point? Because the best way to make a point is to explain your position calmly and succinctly.
(The boy looks at you with exasperation and returns to his game.)
The boy shrugs you off. He seems awfully intent on getting control of the dice.
He doesn't want them unless they're a new pair of shoes for baby.
It's a little boy, rolling dice and muttering something about baby shoes.
So, you boys playing jacks? Where are the jacks?
They snicker at your naivete and return to their game.
Penelope keeps this door locked all the time, to keep the kids in and the rabble out. Thank goodness there's no such thing as a fire code yet!
This is the schoolhouse door.
You try to get close enough to throw it, but are forced back by the extreme heat and accomplish nothing but a large white splat on the ground.
Don't be a fool! You may be tough, but you're not THAT tough!
Throwing that into the fire will only make the conflagration worse!
Flames jut from every loose board and hole in the old Assay Office! It must be arson,! 'cuz everything flammable in the Assay Office was stolen ages ago!
The ladder, held in place by a couple of old loose screws, easily comes away from the slide. You somehow cram it into your pocket along with the rest of the junk you're carrying. Way to go, Freddy! Wreck the little kids' playground equipment! (If only they knew how good and true your heart is.)
Someone's using the ladder at this very moment.
It's a ladder, propped up against the slide so the kids can play.
No thank you, Frederick. I don't drink, and I hope you don't either. After all, lips that touch liquor will never touch mine!
Hey, I hear ya, Penelope! Lips that lick... yes, what you just said!
Wherever did you find a pair of boots like ruffians and hooligans wear?
Oh, I just... they were in... um, I forget. Yes, that's it, I forget.
Hm. Well, I'd get rid of them before somebody gets the idea that you're some sort of gunslinger!
Look, Penelope... candle wax!
Why, yes it is, Frederick. How lovely for you. Are you starting some sort of collection?
No. I mean, yes.
Oh. Well, if I run across any myself, I'll be glad to save some for you.
How quaint, a handful of charcoal. You'll pardon me if I don't take those off your hands, won't you? I don't want to muss my dress.
Shoot, no problem, Penelope. I'll take care of this.
Look, Penelope, see what I have here!
A key?
Yep!
I'm very happy for you, Frederick.
See this claim check, Penelope? Does it mean anything to you?
I'm sure it doesn't, Frederick. I'm sorry. Perhaps one of our local shopkeepers would recognize it.
Look, Penelope! Clay!
Hmmm, this is quite interesting. Hydrous aluminum silicate, mixed with powdered feldspar, quartz, sand, iron oxides and other minerals. Very malleable!
Penelope, you've never looked more beautiful to me than you do now, analyzing the chemical makeup of this compound.
Thank you, Frederick. I kinda like you, too.
Freddy, I beg you! Not in front of the children!
Why, isn't that the key to your Pharmacy?
Yes, it is!
Well, for goodness' sake, Frederick, don't be waving it around so! Somebody might steal it and rob the store!
You chuckle smugly to yourself as you pocket the key.
Here, Penelope.
I'm sorry, Frederick, you know those drugstore remedies don't do me any good!
Some empty bottles, Penelope?
What a... |c2|thoughtful|c|... gift, Frederick. Tell you what: why don't YOU hang onto these for me, since I'm at work right now. Thank you so much.
Sure. A-yuh.
No, thank you, Frederick. I haven't purposefully hyperventilated since my college days!
That certainly looks sharp and pointy, Frederick! Please, take it away before I cut myself!
This looks like somebody else's prescription, Frederick! You'd better get back to work and give it to him right away. It might be important!
Good thought! You're so smart, Penelope.
You're so obedient and puppy-doggish, Frederick. Now straight off with you!
That looks like the ladder from our playground slide, Frederick. Now I'm not saying you took it, but I'm going to close my eyes for a count of five, and when I open them, I want that ladder returned... IF that's our ladder.  Ready?
Penelope closes her eyes and count to five, while you stand there awkwardly hiding the ladder behind you.
I see the ladder is not back in place. Perhaps it was somebody else who stole it. I apologize for wrongly accusing you, Frederick. Can you forgive me?
Oh, for ANYthing, Penelope!
Look, Penelope! It's my lasso! I made it out of rope!
That's VERY good, Frederick. VERY good!
I certainly hope you're not expecting ME to use that leather strap, Frederick. I do not go in for those unusual games.
Uh, no, I was just showing it to you.
Well, then, that's fine.
Oh, did you need me to read this to you?
No, no... I was just seeing if you wanted it.
It's addressed to you, Frederick. Why would I want it?
Well, I...
Don't tell me you were just wandering around, trying to give items to people at random? That's no way to be a Western Hero.
No, no, I wasn't, I swear.
That's good, let's keep it that way, all right?
Yes, yes, whatever you say, Penelope.
It's Penelope Primm: Full-time Schoolmarm, Full-time Single Frontier Woman, and Part-time Heartthrob! How does she do it all? Easy! She's incredibly uptight and has numerous stress-related diseases!
You don't owe me any money, Frederick. You take it, I insist.
Yes, I was just showing you.
Oh! Well, it's a very nice bankroll, Frederick.
Thank you.
Would you like some beer, Penelope?
Brewed malt beverages are an acquired taste, preferred by lowbrows and ruffians. Surely you don't drink them, do you, Frederick?
No, but this is beer.
Beer IS a brewed malt beverage.
Oh... I knew that. No, I don't drink beer, that's why I was offering it to you.
Oh. I see. Hmmmm.
Are you insinuating that I might have a need for such a... a..
No, no, no, I was just thinking... um... this is something I have in the store, see?
Frederick, have you been out in the sun too long? Perhaps you should go back into the store and attend to your customers!
Uh... yes, I'll do that! Thanks!
This is somebody's prescription, Frederick! I shouldn't been looking at this.
You're right, as usual, Penelope. You're always right.
Thank you, Frederick Pharkas. I try to be.
Penelope, I just whipped this up in the lab. It should purify all the contaminated drinking water in town, if I can just figure out how to get it in the water supply!
That is a daunting task, Frederick. But if I'm not mistaken, don't we all get our water from the same place?
Say, you're right! No wonder you're the schoolmarm!
Thank you, Frederick. And you're a whiz in the laboratory!
Oh, I'd never do that.
Pardon?
Oh, you mean... I mean, never mind.
Look, rope!
Yes, Frederick, it certainly is.
Want it?
No. Don't you?
Yes, but I was just checking.
Oh! That was considerate of you, thank you!
These are snails from the stampede. Do you like snails?
I find them fascinating from an academic standpoint, but I would not care to carry them around or ingest them.
That's exactly the way I feel. I love you, Penelope.
Frederick! You do surprise me sometimes.
Penelope!
Freddy! How nice to see you! Did you leave work just to come see me?
Er... uh... YEAH! Just being able to look at you makes my day seem to fly by.
Penelope titters and tilts her head coyly.
(TITTERS) You do know how to flatter a girl, don't you? Now you get back to work, so you'll have enough money to take me to the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance next week!
As you wish, milady!
Tee-hee!
Hello again, Penelope.
Freddy, you rogue! Courting a girl in broad daylight and all. Why, I'm going to get a reputation!
I just needed to hear the music of your voice. Now I can muddle through the rest of the day with the memory of your smile and your kind voice.
You do lard it on, don't you? You make me all giggly.
Only because I love to hear you laugh.
Tee-hee!
Penelope...
Hold on, at least wait 'til she's out of the schoolhouse!
Hello, Penelope!
Frederick, my sweet! This is turning out to be quite the busy day for you, isn't it?
It sure is. But I'm really looking forward to that Sadie Hawkins Dance.
And I as well, Freddy. Romance does make my heart flutter so!
'Til later, my dear!
'Til then, my sweet! Tee-hee!
(GAGGING SOUNDS) <gag>
Penelope?
Yes, Frederick?
Uh... we're still "go" for that dance, right?
Yes, Frederick, a thousand times yes!
Penelope!
Frederick! You were magnificent, the way you stopped that stampede and cured those crapulent horses.
Gosh, Penelope... you know I'd move a mountain for you, if I could.
I think maybe I've misjudged you, Frederick.
Misjudged me?
I used to think you were a little... you know... mild-mannered. But I like a man who knows how to use his wits AND his muscles. I do believe we may be ready to take this relationship to its next step.
YEE-HAW! I mean... oh, that would be something I think is feasible.
Yes, I'm quite sure of it. The upcoming Sadie Hawkins Day dance should be a memorable one.
Penelope, you've made me the happiest... I mean, you're going to make me the happiest... aw, heck. Penelope, you're a pal!
Hi, Penelope!
Frederick, you've certainly got a gleam in your eye!
Don't be teasing me, now, Penelope. You KNOW why!
I believe I do. Tee-hee!
Penelope, quick, you're in danger!
Why... Frederick, you're all flushed! What's wrong?
There's a stampede headed this way. Well... slowly, but still. If I don't act quickly, the whole town's gonna get slimed.
I don't understand! Slimed? That sounds distasteful!
It's snails, Penelope. You've got to get the children inside!
If it's only snails, Frederick, I'm sure we've got enough time for recess, don't we?
Well... yeah.
Frederick, why don't you run be a man and divert the stampede or do whatever a real hero would do? I'll keep my eye on the children for the time being.
I'll make you proud, Penelope. You'll see!
Penelope, I'm doin' my best to get rid of that pesky snail stampede.
You know I'm right behind you, Frederick. I'd help you if I didn't have to look after the children.
That's okay, Penelope, I'm on the job!
Thank you, Frederick. We're all depending on you!
Oh, Penelope...
She ignores you. Looks like Penelope's headed inside the school for a while; maybe you can catch her on the way out.
It's only natural to want to speak to Penelope. But wait 'til she's out here and paying attention.
Empty can of beans?
No, but thank you for asking!
You're most welcome.
Care for a sip?
No, thank you, Frederick. Beer is the opiate of the masses, I always say.
This isn't beer, it's water.
Tsk, tsk. Lying about your drinking is the first sign of addiction.
I'm not lying.
Uh-oh, denial. That's the second sign.
Look, it's only water, I swear! Here, I'll drink it myself!
No, don't do it! Drinking by yourself is the third sign! Frederick, you really ought to get some help for this problem.
Penelope, see how I've put this illegible prescription under the whisky glass? Now I can see what Doc Gillespie was writing!
That's excellent, Frederick! I do hope you got a good deal of points for that.
Yep!
What's this?
Doc Gillespie's whisky glass.
Frederick, you are a dear, sweet man, and I am growing more fond of you each day.
But I don't think that taking away his glass is going to keep that poor, sad old man from drinking. He'll just find another one somewhere.
You're right, as always. But it was worth a try.
You are so very noble, Frederick!
Leave the roof on the schoolhouse. It's doing such a bang-up job of keeping meteorites from hitting Penelope and the schoolkids.
But, there are no meteorites anywhere around here!
See? It's working!
The schoolhouse roof is steeply-pitched.
Sorry, you'll have to leave the scenery right where it is.
This is the corner of Main and Edukashun Street. The assay office and the schoolhouse are on the west and east sides of the street, respectively; clutter prevents your passage to the south.
If you dug here, some little schoolchild would be liable to trip and break his neck!
You simply have nothing to say to that.
Keep your hands off the kids! They're Penelope's responsibility!
This girl's got her hands full with that jumprope.
It's Weebix, one of the little orphan girls.
Hello, Weebix! How are you this morning?
She pointedly stares away from you, counting to herself and looking just a bit peeved.
One, five, nine, three, four, seven, two, six... heh, heh, heh! I've confused you now, haven't I?
Weebix's eyes get very large and well up with tears. She sets her jaw firmly and keeps jumping... starting with "one." You are not proud of yourself!
Hey, be careful! It IS a solidly-built structure compared to most of the buildings around here, but that's not saying much.
This is the old red schoolhouse, one of the few buildings that still seems solid and safe.
You've teetered enough.
Of course you want to play on the children's equipment, don't you? But shouldn't you put out the fire first?
You can't play now.
You're going to play on the seesaw, when the whole town is about to be gassed? I think not.
You're not quite skillful enough to make a perfect three-point landing from the swing to the seesaw without breaking every bone in your body.  (In other words, try it and you'll be the man with the flopping trapezium!)
You've got no reason to put that particular item on the seesaw.
It's a long plank firmly attached to some sort of axle, allowing one side to pivot upwards while the other side descends. When kids play on it, one of them teeters at the top and the other totters at the bottom. Say, you've got an idea for what you could call this thing... 
(JUBILANTLY) A "kiddie-pult!"
The seesaw and the whole playground is deserted, no doubt because of the aroma. Funny, considering how infrequently the kids around here bathe, you wouldn't think they'd have noticed the horsey smell!
Sissy is in a foul mood. He'll bite your finger clean off.
The child's sullen stare prevents you from attempting to interact in a constructive way.
It's Sissy, playing on the slide! The boys call him that because his mother dresses him so effeminately!)
Hello, Sissy. My, your golden locks are looking pretty today!
Sissy glares at you with a look that says, "I know 1,000 ways to cause pain to a human body. You wanna start counting?"
After you went to all the trouble of stealing the ladder, now you want to try and redeem yourself by putting it back? Too late!
Kids climb to the top of this long curved plank and then slide down. Geez, ain't technology wonderful?
It's not polite to point at the street.
It's Edukashun Lane. Which reminds you of a little joke. What does the "N" on the Nebraska Cornhuskers helmet stand for? Knowledge!
You've swung enough.
The swing is in use.
Yes, the swing would let you get up a few feet in the atmosphere and perhaps escape the horrible fumes, but it wouldn't last long.
It's a short plank on two ropes, hung from a tree. Another high-tech children's amusement device!
There's nobody playing on the swing right now, doubtless due to the toxic fumes.
You consider shimmying up the tree, but your pelvis is simply too narrow to accommodate the girth of that trunk! (A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to Madame Ovaree!)
It's either a spreading chestnut tree or a shedding sprucenut tree.
The windows can only be opened or closed from the inside.
You can see the inside of the schoolhouse through the windows. It looks pretty much like the interior of a schoolhouse.
=== 265.msg ===
This ladder is propped up against the slide so the kids can play.
Good idea, Freddy! Wreck the little kids' playground equipment! You meany! 
Someone's using the ladder at this very moment.
This is the schoolhouse door.
Penelope keeps this door locked all the time, to keep the kids in and the rabble out. Thank goodness there's no such thing as a fire code yet!
It's a short plank on two ropes, hung from a tree. Another high-tech children's amusement device!
There's nobody playing on the swing right now, doubtless due to the toxic fumes.
You've swung enough.
The swing is in use.
Yes, the swing would let you get up a few feet in the atmosphere and perhaps escape the horrible fumes, but it wouldn't last long.
It's a long plank firmly attached to some sort of axle, allowing one side to pivot upwards while the other side descends. When kids play on it, one of them teeters at the top and the other totters at the bottom. Say, you've got an idea for what you could call this thing... 
(JUBILANTLY) A "kiddie-pult!"
The seesaw and the whole playground is deserted, no doubt because of the aroma. Funny, considering how infrequently the kids around here bathe, you wouldn't think they'd have noticed the horsey smell!
You've teetered enough.
You can't play now.
Of course you want to play on the children's equipment, don't you? But shouldn't you put out the fire first?
You're going to play on the seesaw, when the whole town is about to be gassed? I think not.
You're not quite skillful enough to make a perfect three-point landing from the swing to the seesaw without breaking every bone in your body. (In other words, try it and you'll be the man with the flopping trapezium!)
It's Edukashun Lane. Which reminds you of a little joke. What does the "N" on the Nebraska Cornhuskers helmet stand for? Knowledge!
It's not polite to point at the street.
Kids climb to the top of this long curved plank and then slide down. Geez, ain't technology wonderful?
It's either a spreading chestnut tree or a shedding sprucenut tree.
You consider shimmying up the tree, but your pelvis is simply too narrow to accommodate the girth of that trunk! (A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to Madame Ovaree!)
You can see the inside of the schoolhouse through the windows. It looks pretty much like the interior of a schoolhouse.
The windows can only be opened or closed from the inside.
The schoolhouse roof is steeply-pitched.
Leave the roof on the schoolhouse. It's doing such a bang-up job of keeping meteorites from hitting Penelope and the schoolkids.
But, there are no meteorites anywhere around here!
See? It's working!
Shrubs and weeds grow amongst the wreck of the old train depot.
Don't go poking in there; that's where the tramps hang out. If you wanna poke some tramps, go to the Brothel!
It's the Old Abandoned Assay Office, once owned by a subsidiary of the Old Abandoned Mine Company. It's burning merrily, which is a source of some concern to you since your pharmacy is right next door. Did somebody purposefully torch it? Wasn't this a "no-burn" day?
It's the Old Abandoned Assay Office, once owned by a subsidiary of the Old Abandoned Mine Company. Before the mine shut down, this is where you got your nuggets appraised. (Now you have to go to Madame's for that!)
The char-broiled and blackened remains of the Old Abandoned Assay Office stand on the corner of Main and Edukashun. You suspect that this was the work of either whoever's behind all the destructive goings-on in town... or voracious Louisiana chef Paul Prudhomme!
Hot! WHOA, that's hot, boy! Very, very hot!
It's boarded up, but there's nothing in there anyway except some worthless old rocks and few petrified cinnamon rolls. Insert your own nauseating joke about "rock and roll" here!
You don't need any more activated charcoal!
The old red schoolhouse, the most solidly-built structure in town.
Hey, be careful! It IS the most solidly-built structure in town, but that's not saying much.
It's a sea shanty. (See? Shanty!)
You just went cow-tipping last night. You can go shanty-tipping some other time. (What percentage does one tip a shanty, anyway?)
The Old Abandoned Assay Office is ablaze, threatening to burn down not only itself and your pharmacy, but the whole town!
Flames jut from every loose board and hole in the old Assay Office! It must be arson! 'Cuz everything flammable in the Assay Office was stolen ages ago!
Don't be a fool! You may be tough, but you're not THAT tough!
You try to get close enough to throw it, but are forced back by the extreme heat and accomplish nothing but a large white splat on the ground.
You're too uncoordinated to heave the baking soda AND hold onto the swing at the same time. Maybe you should practice on smaller accomplishments first... like walking and chewing tobacco at the same time!
This is the corner of Main and Edukashun Street. The assay office and the schoolhouse are on the west and east sides of the street, respectively; clutter prevents your passage to the south.
Sorry, you'll have to leave the scenery right where it is.
Baking soda is everywhere, the result of your clever (though inadequate) solution to putting out the fire.
The piles of baking soda aren't worth picking up. But, hey, it was thrifty of you to try!
What pluck! What prowess! What a ridiculous solution! (Still, you thought of it!)
You singlehandedly quenched the flames of the Assay Office by using the seesaw as a catapult for the baking soda! Too bad nobody was here to see it. They'll never believe you in the morning.
You've deposited your load of baking soda on one end of the teeter-totter. (Let's hope you know what you're doing!)
You can't reach the baking soda from way up here!
=== 270.msg ===
This big ol' water tower was previously used by the train station; now it's junk.
It's dangerously rickety; you don't want to go around disturbing it. Like Ol' Doc, it'll fall over eventually anyway.
You've got more important matters to attend to than pulling down this old wreck of a water tower!
There's no need to lasso the water tower; you'll yank it right down!
Over yonder is the Old Abandoned Miner's Commissary, where the miners used to eat before the mine closed down. Of course, the food over there is as fresh now as the day it was made!
You can't possibly reach that house from here.
(SING BADLY) It's the last train to Coarsegold, and it's sunken at the station.
"I |c2|thought|c| I could, I |c2|thought|c| I could, I |c2|thought|c| I could..."
You don't feel like taking the train right now! (And you can't get over to it, nohow.)
This is the thick, bubbly, foul dark water that seems to be oozing from the ground all through town and creating nothing but a messy problem for the townsfolk.
You don't want to touch it. It gets all over everything, smells bad, and won't come off.
Why not just walk on out there to the middle of the swamp and give it a try?
Main Street comes to an end here in the thick, mucky swamp; beyond it lies the Old Abandoned Mine.
Your words bounce over the swamp and echo into nothingness.
You leave that right where it is, ya young whippersnapper!
That would be like trying to dig up mud.
That's the Old Abandoned Mine, once run by the Old Abandoned Mine Company, Inc. You remember blowing it up in the demo! (It was Coarsegold's original "'Ore House!")
You can't take it, it's not yours! Besides, there's no way over to the mine anymore, what with the swamp getting wider, thicker and deeper all the time.
This tree isn't doing too well, what with its roots soaking up all that mucky swampwater.
It feels solid on the outside. (But it's retching on the inside!)
Could I have misjudged the surface tension?
The swamp seems thick enough to hold your weight!
Some unhealthy-looking scrub grows in the area.
You've got no use for these sickly shrubs.
The shrubs here by the swamp are particularly sad-looking.
You don't want to be carrying around any sickly plants.
You remember a time, not too long ago, when these leaves were glossy and healthy.
The leaves are far out of reach, along with everything else on the far side of the swamp.
The tree leaves here are dying and diseased.
You wouldn't want those leaves even if you could reach 'em.
The Old Abandoned Mine Office is no longer used. But it's still fondly remembered!
The Old Abandoned Mine Office is too far away to reach.
These old mining car tracks are rusted and beyond their useful lives.
You can't reach those tracks from this side of the swamp!
Something awful and fetid is bubbling up in great big blurps from the murky depths of the swamp.
Yuck! Your skin crawls at the very thought.
Chances are you'll need that. Don't be tossing it into the swamp.
Why not just walk on out there to the bubbles and try to do some digging?
=== 300.msg ===
This is the west end of Bluff Street, which runs parallel to Main Street.  Collier Bluff sweeps across the north side the street here; beyond it stretches the great painted desert. But you can't get there from here! (In fact, you can't get there from anywhere.)
You start to say something to that, but think better of it.
Bluff Street is just a little too large to take with you.
The ground here is too hard for digging.
The trees of Coarsegold, like the citizens, grow gnarled and bent.
These branches are high out of reach. It's a perspective thing.
That's Hyman Untertaekker's shop. He's the town undertaker.
The place appears to be locked and shuttered. Come to think of it, you haven't seen Hyman in a couple of days. Ordinarily, that would be suspicious. But given what's been happening in town lately, it seems pretty normal.
High in the sky stands the town gallows. (Ernest & Julio GallowsO4 Brand Lynching Equipment: "We will hang no man before his time.")
It's Temple Beth-Gesundheit.
The Synagogue is closed. There are no Jews in Coarsegold, there never were.  But the building contractor and the architect sure had fun scaring the folks of Coarsegold!
An Old Abandoned shack stands by the alleyway between Bluff and Main Streets.
Hands off, this property belongs to the Old Abandoned Company.
The sign says "Hyman Untertaekker... Und You're Not!"
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
If you're looking for a sign, maybe you should play one of those Bible Trivia games.
They started to build an outhouse here, but municipal funds ran out during construction. So the builder did a half-assed job!
It seems unusually wobbly, even for an outhouse.
The tall stone fenceposts are pebbled and worn from years of rain, wind and tourists.
The fenceposts feel pebbled and rough from years of wind, rain and tourists.  Of course, you could have known THAT just by looking at them!
That's a Shears Craftsperson♦ Graveyard-Quality Shovel standing in the dirt.
You consider doing your crooning routine, using the shovel as a mike stand. But hey, where's the audience?
Glancing furtively around to see if Doug's within sight, you grab his shovel.
You can't reach the shovel from out here.
There's a recently-filled grave in ReBoot Hill.
It's bad enough that you want to take dirt from someone's grave... but do you have to do it with your bare hands, too?
You don't need any more clay from the grave.
You can't reach the grave from this side of the fence.
You start to dig up the freshly-laid grave. Muscles that haven't been used in years begin to groan and whine. But with the gritty determination of a professional grave-robber, you toil on... and on... and on...
You can't dig up the grave from here!
Finally, after digging for what seems to be hours (but through the miracle of computer animation, only takes YOU a few seconds), you uncover the casket of... your ol' buddy Phil Graves! You open up the casket and take a look.
Y'know, most people can't carry off this "rigor mortis" thing and still look stylish and relaxed. But Phil wears it really well.
Doug McCarkus, the town's lone gravedigger, performs his sad, solitary task at graveside. (If you listen close, you can hear him muttering something about Union rules.)
Hey, Doug, you big lug! How's it going?
Doug shrugs.
Don't bug Doug 'til his digging's dug. 
It's a pile of rich, reddish dirt from the grave. (In fact, it's more clay than dirt, which explains all the lush growth around here!)
You grab a handful of clay from the pile beside the grave. (Well, you never know, it COULD come in handy.)
You can't reach that pile of dirt from here.
You've already got enough clay for one game.
You've taken your clay; now lie in it.
It's an open grave. Even a world-weary, seen-it-all Pharmacist like yourself, one who deals with cold sores, headaches, and diarrhea on a daily basis, still can't shake that uneasy feeling one gets when standing close to Death.
What are you looking for, gold fillings? C'mon, you've defiled Phil Graves' unfilled grave enough already!
You carefully search through the many pockets of Graves's three-dollar suit, until you discover... the safe deposit box key you entrusted to Phil oh so many years ago!
You can't reach the open grave from here.
That's okay, you just keep that key. Phil doesn't need it back.
In a touching display of emotion (and a hidden desire to carry a little less around with you), you fold up Philip's letter and place it under his folded hands.
I guess this makes Phil a correspondence corpse!
You begin the arduous task of replacing the heaping mound of dirt, one shovelful at a time... over... and over... and over...
You can't use the shovel on the grave from out here.
Finally, after what seems like only a few seconds (but which, through the miracle of good programming, actually takes you several hours), you carefully fill up Philip's grave!
A noose swings lazily in the breeze... always a gloomy sign.
You know what I always say... "No noose is good noose!"
Hey, what's noose? How's it hangin'?
The noose seems to say, "Knot too well. Can't talk now, I'm all tied up!"
But it's knot within reach!
A rickety old fence stands by Collier Bluff, ready to fall down at any second.
You give it a shake, and the whole length of fence quivers. Dry rot and bullet holes have sapped the wood of its strength.
One of those bottles is full of water; drink it before you do anything else!
There's no point in setting up target practice until you're ready to start shooting!
You can't reach the fence from here. But keep stretching; you'll add inches to your biceps and tone those lateral obliques!
Srini's waiting for you to start your target practice.
From here, it looks like Srini, your faithful Indian sidekick!
Srini is patiently waiting for you to get your gunslingin' outfit together.
Welp, Srini, I think I'm ready to try some target-shooting. You ready?
Of certainly. I am without a desire to wait any further for to stand in front of your blazing guns and take my life in your hands to help you perfect your shooting.
How do you wanna start?
Perhaps it would be besting if you placed some targets upon the fenceposts, for a commencement.
Don't yell from here. You'll wake the dead!
Srini, what are you waiting for?
You! The soonest you can arrange a disguisement of your right ear, and complete an outfit most befitting of a gunslinging-type person, the soonest we can get you dressed!
Close physical contact between men is frowned upon in your country, is it not?
I guess so.
Good! Please to keeping it thusly.
You can't poke Srini from here!
You'll have to get closer to him.
Those bottles would be making excellent target practice targets, Freddy! If it were not for the filling of water in one of them. Drink up!
In my country, we have struggled for years to learn to do without the need for ice picks.
Provided you are prepared to practice shooting, set the bottles upon the fenceposts and we can commence to begin starting!
You are a most fortunate individual to be holding keys. I struggle much of my life to find keys.
Srini, my boy, you just have to know where to click.
You do? Humph and humph! I have never thought of clicking!
The ladder that saved my life! I remember it finely!
Are these for keepsies?
Um... I was just showing them to you.
I do not want them. Your American women are too skinny as it is.
Do not threaten me, Freddy Pharkas! I am working out as well as I am!
I am dodging too fast for you to see. That is the way of my people.
Ah, apple pie. I look at it and can think only of the screams of thousands of apples dying for your pie. I do not understand how a thinking person can partake of it. But I love us both for our differences.
I prefer Golden Shower♦ Herbal Tea. I like mine tepid... with a twist!
Ooh, you keep that now, Freddy Pharkas. You can be using it to ensure guns are clean enough to use with impunity.
They appear as though to be most effective, they are having to be propelled with much force from a firing chamber!
Oh! You have clay! Now you are really the hero I thought you were!
That is a most handsome and clever use of my medallion! Now all you need is other things for your disguise.
What else do I need?
I believe you should have something different than your current shoes, something other than your current clothes, loaded and cleaned pistols, and something for good luck! Then wear your ear, and I will know you are ready to be all dressed up like a big cowboy!
You keep those, Freddy Pharkas! They can help make you look like a real Western Hero!
As, yes! It will be ready on Tuesday! Hee hee hee. I have made a funny. Excuse my jocularity. I do not know whence this piece of paper comes.
Yes, they are truly boots worthy of a Western Hero! May you have an opportunity to wear them with pridefulness.
I do not recognize it, but it is a handsome addition to any wardrobe.
This is your personal mail. I am not reading it now or ever!
You are walking around with a shovel. Surely that is unusual.
I guess so.
That Freddy Pharkas! I never know what to expect from you yet!
I am full up of that. But thanks to you anyway.
You are a lost-wax casting fool, Freddy Pharkas! Ways to go!
That appears most empty! Perhaps it needs to be filled with a substance that will make an impressive ear!
That is a most beautiful likeness! But it is of your left ear. You need one of your right ear.
WHAT??
Haha, I am pulling down your pants! You have carved correctly!
The door to the outhouse is the only part they got right! The rest of it is a real half-assed job!
You can't get to the outhouse from inside the cemetery!
Say, Freddy Pharkas! You are not so bad after all at this shooting gig!
Why, thanks, Srini. My life -- and the lives of every man, woman, and ruminant in this town -- depend on my being quick with a gun.
Did you not mention earlier that your life is in danger most forthcoming?
Something like that.
Might I then suggest that you might be excellent to placing a disguise upon your person, thereby making it to appearances that Freddy Pharkas has no longer around in this locality?
Good thinking, Srini. I'll need a disguise of some sort; something that will strike terror into the hearts of the bad guys.
I know, a BAT! I'll disguise myself as a bat, and you can be Srini, the Boy Wonder. Do you have any leotards?
Pardon me for asserting, but this "bat" thing is really hokey.
You're right, too juvenile. Let's see. How about...
Might I suggest a skin-tight costume with flowing cape, and placed upon the manly chest thereof a large "F," for "Pharkas?"
No, that'd never work. I don't want people to know I'm Freddy, remember?
Then perhaps you are needing to do something about that right ear. Or rather, the lack of that right ear.
Dang it, you're right! Everyone knows me as the one-eared Pharmacist. I need to make a new one somehow... maybe forge one out of metal or something. I'll give it some thought and meet you back at the Pharmacy once I've completed my disguise.
This is world-famous "Bad Rock," so-called because of the day many years ago that part of it dislodged and just missed a carriagefull of students on their way to Chowchilla. It was a black, black day. (Which is why they eventually turned it into a movie, "Black Day at Bad Rock.")
You can't reach it, which is a damn good thing. Otherwise you'd have the weight of the world on your shoulders!
Someone made a mesa the desert!
The horizon is way off in the background. You can't reach it from here.
    "Here Lies Eric DeUnreddie
          1830-1875
He Had a Fatal Error Reading Drive B."
Hello down there!
You think you hear some worms, trying to talk with their mouths full.
You're not going to do any gravestone-tipping in THIS game, buster!
     "Here lies Les Moanly.
He died with his shrinkwrap still on.
         1861-1883"
Yo! Wake up and help me!
You hear a disembodied voice telling you that there are no on-line hints in this game.
The heavy gravestone is being held in place by a mysterious force! Perhaps it's "gravity."
"Pardon our Dust, but Here We Grow Again! A New Grave is Being Erected on this Site in Honor of Philip D. Graves."
Looks like your dear friend Philip has passed on. Gee, it seems like only a day or two ago you filled a prescription for him.
Uh, oh!
Hey! Is there life after death?
There's no answer.
Should I take that as a "no"?
Hey, these temporary headstones are set in place real good!
"Here Lieth James Ernest Haupher.
        1824-1880"
Ah-ha! You'd always wondered where Jim E. Haupher was buried!
Hey, how'd you die, anyway?
A ghostly voice carries in the wind, saying, "Violently!"
This stone seems to be set in place with cement overshoes.
  "Here Lies Butch Casualty.
He Also Cheats, Steals, Murders,
   And Writes Bad Checks.
        1849-1882"
Hey, tell me something only you dead guys would know!
You think you hear a muffled, faint voice saying, "Okay, you asked for it... April 23rd, in your sleep!"
Don't steal this headstone. That's the worst kind of graverobbing.
"Under this rock lies Ernie Fleabeak.
    Mere text cannot describe
      how he'll be missed.
         1858-1886"
How's the weather down there?
A voice filters up: "Rottin'!"
The stone wobbles slightly, but it's far too heavy to move any more than that.
The stone is immoveable.
Oh, boy! It's one of those rare "Burma Shave" headstones:
"Beneath This Plot
Lies Edward Fiskers.
His Time Grew Short,
But Not His Whiskers.
   Burma Shave
  1845-1885"
Hey! I like your gravestone!
A voice drifts up from somewhere beneath your feet, and says:
 "I'm in a box
That's six feet deep,
 So shut your mouth
 And let me sleep!"
You'd give yourself
  A hernia,
And hear from Ed's
  attorneya.
  Burma-Shave
The epitaph reads:
"Poor Prudence Brown
  Was Merely Dozing.
    Never Woke,
  Now Decomposing.
     1839-1880"
Sorry to hear you're decomposing!
You think you hear a voice say, "Yeah, I'm all broken up about it myself!"
 Poor Prudence Brown
Would moan and groan
  If you attempt
 To steal her stone.
Reboot Hill isn't very creepy. (The Coarsegold Founding Fathers Cemetary Committee couldn't afford creepy. Creepy cost extra.)
Leave the graveyard there. It's being used by the residents.
What makes you think there's something under THAT plot that you need?
This grave has yet to be filled. There's nothing in it.
You can't see into the grave from this side.
You can't take an empty hole! This is REALITY!
You can't reach the grave from this side of the fence!
A robust, healthy prickly pear cactus grows near the edge of ReBoot Hill. (Must be all the nitrogen-rich fertilizer in the local soil!)
Go prick on somebody your own size!
Perched on top of the post is an angel, her arms outstretched. At the base of the statue is a small plaque which reads, "I love you |c3|THIS MUCH!|c|" (Couldn't you just surrender your lunch?)
Teen angel, can you hear me?
If she can, she's not interested in chatting.
You give the angel a friendly pat on the behind. She seems to glare at you. (Apparently she doesn't love you THAT much!)
Hmmmm... not much privacy, but the ventilation is EXCELLENT!
=== 310.msg ===
This is the central area of Bluff Street, which runs parallel to Main Street.
That's not one of the more talkative inanimate objects in the game.
You take Bluff Street and put it in your pocket. (Sorry, just bluffing!)
You can't find a good spot to dig here.
You locked it, remember?
The door clearly shows the beauty of natural wood-grain finish. (In other words, it needs a coat of paint!)
This looks just like the door where you stole that church key.
You can't look through the keyhole; it's blocked.
That key doesn't work in the church door.
You unlock the Church door.
You lock the Church door.
That's the wrong key for this lock.
That key doesn't seem to fit in this lock!
ReBoot Hill was opened in 1849. Disease and violent death were so popular back then that the cemetery plots were auctioned off at the Coarsegold Plot Exposition of '52. Ten years later, due to overcrowding, the bodies were exhumed and buried off the top of Half-Dome in Yosemite. The plots were re-auctioned off. It's been that way ever since. (Thank you for reading this plot synopsis!)
It feels like the life cycle begins anew here, as we go from the top of the food chain to the bottom.
Reverend Sy Hallelujah lives here.
The Reverend's house is locked and shuttered. Has he left town? Who's running the Church?
It's the Old Abandoned Synagogue.
You can't get into the Synagogue. You're not one of the Chosen People.
A gnarled old tree stretches above the Old Abandoned Synagogue.
You can't reach the tree from down here.
This is the Reverend Sy Hallelujah's Church. Nobody's going in or out. What with everyone leaving town, the Reverend seems to have lost his following. Yes, he's been deflocked!
The Church is feeling a little warm. Maybe it's got shingles.
A creaking old windmill tower, haphazardly assembled from rotting timbers, graces the beautiful Coarsegold skyline.
This ladder is falling apart. You'll never climb the windmill tower.
The windmill turns steadily in the arid Coarsegold trade winds.
I'm one of your biggest fans!
(Now THAT'S the pot calling the kettle black!)
Have you ever had your hand sliced off by a propeller? Would you LIKE to? Then don't try sticking your hand in the windmill!
There seems to be something in the lock! You wisely reconsider your idea of pushing on the stained glass to see if it's still in good shape.
You take the key to the Church.
A wrought-iron and stone archway beckons all to ReBoot Hill. Perhaps YOU'LL be the next occupant! Bwah-ha-ha-haaa! (Are you scared yet? Huh? Huh??)
Despite the years of wear, the archway seems solid.
A stagecoach converted to a hearse is mired in the mud here, minus one wheel. Once this was a one-hearse town... now it's a NO-hearse town!
This wrecked hearse feels just like a wrecked hearse.
One of Hyman Untertaekker's coffins is lying in disrepair off near ReBoot Hill. (It looks like a Cedar Model #7: "Eternal Slumber... And No Moths!")
Hello? Anyone in there?
There's no answer. Apparently there's nothing in there but old jokes that have gone to die.
You rap on the coffin, but hear nothing special.
You attempt, but fail, to s'nail the coffin shut.
A variety of polypetalous, green, fleshy, spiny members of the family |c3|Cactaceae|c| grow in spurts around the foundation of the Church. (Aren't you sorry you asked?)
Don't touch the cacti; you'll prick yourself.
The Church door is chipped and yellowed.
That reminds me... I'm supposed to have my teeth cleaned next week!
Feels like wood. Smells like termites. (Don't fight, kids... it's BOTH!)
The keyhole appears to be empty. And whose fault is THAT?
What?  You want to steal something else from the church? Haven't you committed enough sacrilege for one game?
An squeaky old sheep vane turns gently on top of Reverend Hallelujah's house. Perhaps he's trying to get people to join his flock.
(SINGING) "You're so vane! I bet you think this game is about you? Don't you? Don't you?"
You can't reach that sheep weather vane; it's way up on Sy Hallelujah's roof.
The Church has a belfry. (So named because somebody donated a bell!)
You can't reach the belfry, which is just as well since you'd disturb the bats.
The candles in the Church foyer are glowing with a holy light.
You would never dream of stealing a candle from a church. But... they wouldn't miss one of these puddles of candle wax.
You've got as much wax as you'll need.
The stained-glass windows are, miraculously, intact.
You wisely reconsider your idea of pushing on the stained glass to see if it's still in good shape.
You see some votive candles burning just inside the door.
You slowly open the coffin.
<Cough!> <Hack!> <Cough!>
Say! You oughta do something about that coffin!
=== 320.msg ===
The back door to the Barbershop is currently locked.
Your arms are too short to do any roofing work from down here.
You can see the roof of one of the Main Street buildings from here.
You can't walk that way. It's too treacherous! (Of course, you can walk to lots of other too-treacherous places in the game! You just can't walk here.)
The bakery's closed for good.
This used to be the Bakery, where Letta Rysawyle sold all sorts of delicious breads, pies, and cakes. There was a sudden surge in muffin popularity on the East Coast, so Letta closed up shop and moved out East to take advantage of it.
You just can't do that while you're up here, where the air is thin and the walking uncertain.
Well, howdy, Mr. Pharkas! Er... I wuz just leavin', I swear. Gimme one more minute.
Perfectly okay, Billy, no need to get up. Just move over a little.
Umm... well, I... geez, Mr. Pharkas, invade my personal space, why dontcha!
The water, obviously contaminated, has really "opened up your sluices." You spend a few minutes in extreme discomfort.
It looks like half the town is in line for the outhouse! How odd. Usually, they follow a "staggered" schedule. This seems particularly alarming given that recent horse-feed poisoning!
You turn the faucet off.
You turn the faucet on, and water gushes out.
There's a spigot at the base of the water tower.
Holy cow, you've never seen such a long line at the outhouse!
Something's rotten in the state of Coarsegold's bowels!
Those damn kids! Don't they have anything better to do than hide joy buzzers under the outhouse seat?
Don't go over there; they shoot strangers, revenoors, horses, and pharmacists.
Once this was the Mayor's mansion, before he turned old and gray. Yep... the Old Gray Mayor ain't what he used to be!
It's abandoned.
That house used to belong to the Mine foreman, back when the Mine was still operating.
Pardon me, this stall is occu-pewed.
Excuse me VERY MUCH! I believe this stall is taken.
Oops! Sorry, Judge. Everything comin' out okay?
Of course, same old story. Thank you for asking.
Hey! Didn't we talk about this? You're really upsetting my concentration.
Oops, sorry, I forgot you were in here. You going to be long?
Every time you open this door, it gets longer and longer!
Judge, I was just wondering...
Jumpin' Jehosophat, sonny! Close that damn door, I've got business to attend to!
You grab the ladder.
The ladder is propped up against the water tower's infrastructure.
It feels as solid as it looks.
The lasso won't reach from down here.
This water tower still has a solid infrastructure and a good strong base. It seems to be holding up well.
You've seen enough dismembered limbs to know not to fool around with old farming equipment.
Some old farming and milling equipment sits in disrepair further back on Collier Bluff.
You can't get into the mine. Nope, no way, nohow.
It's one of the entrances to the Old Abandoned Mine, now boarded up for safety's sake.
The town's only working outhouse stands here.
It may be awhile. It looks like everyone's exercising those lower abdominals!
Wait your turn. It's just like at the bank. (Other people want to make their deposits first.)
You can't reach the outhouse from up here.
The outhouse door has a signature half-moon cutout.
(STAR TREK) The engines are already at maximum reverse thrust, Captain! They're givin' it all they've got!
You haven't seen a line this long here since Mom served her famous Chicken Sushi w/Egg Tartare.
Hey, you guys! You feel okay?
The only response is a chorus of churning stomachs, roiling bowels, and floodgates straining to open.
|c2|"Hey, buddy, no cutting!"|c|
|c3|"It's people like you that give people like you a bad name!"|c|
A few moments later, you emerge feeling refreshed.
Gee! That water's got a nasty kick to it.
Don't touch him, Captain! He's liable to blow any second!
He's really gotta go.
Don't talk to him, he's concentrating.
(SCOTTY OF STAR TREK) I canna tell how much more she kin take, Captain!
How long can she wait? Not long, if she keeps bouncing like that!
She can't hear you over the mighty roar of her lower gastro-intestinal tract.
(SCOTTY) He's gonna explode, Captain, and neither you or I or anyone in the Universe can stop it!
This one appears to be practicing the Jitterbug.
Say! Do any of you guys know how to Madison?
Nobody's laughing.
Boi-oi-oing! That one hit a 9.0 on the Free Plug-O-Meter!
Plug-O-Meter♦
That pulley never worked right in the first place. It's not going to work for you now.
A block-and-tackle was erected here for unloading wagons. Unfortunately, it couldn't block and tackle at the same time.
As you reach the top of the water tower, the crowd cheers!
|c2|"Thank God, It's Freddy!"|c|
|c3|"We're number one! We're number one!"|c|
|c0|"What are you going to do now, Freddy?"|c|
I'm going to SierraLand!
You reached the top. Too bad nobody was here to applaud your achievement!
The bluff stays put, no matter how hard you tug.
This is the eastern portion of Bluff Street, so-named for scenic Collier Bluff.
Didn't anyone warn you about digging near an outhouse?
You're tongue-tied.
You can't reach the rope from here!
The lasso dangles from the top of the water tower.
Your snare the tower top! The crowd eats it up!
|c3|"Who's the shmuck with the rope?"|c|
|c2|"Be careful you don't put an eye out!"|c|
Hot dog, you roped the top of the water tower! What a shame there's no audience to appreciate your deed.
You wash your hands. (A feeling wholly unfamiliar to you!)
You don't need any water right now!
You carefully fill one of your empty beer bottles with water from the tower.
You don't need any water at the moment.
One bottle full of water is enough.
You can't do that from up here!
Water's running from the spigot.
The water just babbles.
You don't need to fill the whisky glass with water. (Besides, some folks in town would consider it sacrilegious!)
Trying to make the World's Largest Fizzy?
The Deflatulizer is for the horses only. That's the water supply for the whole town!
You can't reach the water tank hatch from down here.
There's a small hatch on top of the water tank.
That would taint the town's water supply!
Watered-down beer for the whole town? That's Sam Andreas's job!
You can't pour the purification solution into the water tank from down here.
Open the hatch first instead of pouring the purification solution on the roof of the water tank!
You carefully pour the purification solution into the town's water supply. Excellent job!
It warn't more 'n a few hours, the folks of Coarsegold wuz feelin' a whole heckuva lot better, their bowels all settled down and happy. Freddy knew he could relax now; ever'thing was calm 'n' peaceful. But round 'bout midnight that very same night, trouble struck again. Freddy was in his own bed, sound asleep, when...
Hello in there!
(FUNNY VOICE) "There's nobody in here but us E. Coli!"
You can't seem to get a good grip on the shingles.
You can't reach the roof of the water tank from here.
The shingled roof of the water tank protects the entire water supply of the village of Coarsegold from dust, dirt, and bird droppings.
The building's closed. There's no use milling around here.
It's the Old Grist Mill. Since Mr. Grist left town, not much happens there.
The metal top of the tower is held very firmly in place. No amount of pulling could possibly budge it.
Your lasso isn't quite long enough to reach the top of the water tank from down here.
Using the lasso, you manage to climb up to the tippy-top of the tower.
A short strong metal pole projects from the roof of the water tank.
Remembering your father's advice about never using the topmost rungs of a ladder, you stop just short of the ladder top.
You can't reach the ladder from up here.
You can't seem to pick up the ladder right now. It suddenly seems so much heavier, for some strange reason!
The ladder is propped up against the side of the water tower tank.
You'll have to climb back down the rope first.
It's wood, what more did you need to know?
The ladder doesn't quite reach far enough.
You can't get a good throw while standing on the ladder.
(BONES LIKE) Dammit, Jim, you're a Pharmacist, not a cattle rustler!
This tank stores the whole town's drinking water supply.
There's nothing inside or outside the wagon worth taking.
By the side of the road sits an old covered wagon. (It's covered for theft and fire.)
The tower is falling apart. You can't get to the top of it safely.
A creaking old windmill tower, haphazardly assembled from now-rotting timbers, graces the beautiful Coarsegold skyline.
Have you ever had your hand sliced off by a propeller? Would you LIKE to? Then don't try sticking your hand in the windmill blades!
The windmill turns steadily in the arid Coarsegold trade winds.
I'm one of your biggest fans!
Now THAT's the pot calling the kettle black!
=== 400.msg ===
Ye Olde 'Orehouse usually isn't open during the day. Wait until dark, cowboy!
That's the door to the brothel.
Freddy! Your store is ready to burn. You must save your town from sure destruction!
The boss is more than a little upset. Seems that our "friend" has been thwarting every plan so far.
Yep. Sumpin's gots to be done about it.
Absolutely. Now let's get down to business. What is the best way to get rid of our little problem -- PERMANENTLY?
How 'bout hanging?
No. Too quick and merciless. Poison?
Nah. Too unsure. Ancient Egyptian dagger?
I can't find mine. Got one on ya?
Not at the moment. It don't matter how we do it, s'long as we do it soon.  And we don't want no proof it was us, neither, and nuttin' to connect it to da Boss.
Excellent thought. And the Boss has arranged for a bit of muscle to come on in and make sure the entire town's cleaned out PDQ. We'll be rid of that do-gooder and all his flea-bitten friends in no time! Ha, ha!
(CRUEL LAUGH) Bwah, hah hah!
Laughing cruelly, they sit back to reflect on their villainy.
It's P. H. Balance, the town banker, relaxing on the brothel porch with a good cigar. The thought of him "conversing" with one of Madame's nubile young professionals is enough to make you swear off banking forever.
Am I interrupting anything?
OH! Er... why, of course not, Mr. Pharkas, we were just talking about y...UGH!
What he means is, we were simply chatting after an invigorating, ah, workout.
Did I hear you fellas say something about getting rid of somebody?
No.
Yes.
Rats. Err, we were talking about getting rid of rats. Rats at the Bank, terrible problem. Sheriff Shift was telling me ways to eradicate the vermin.
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|You're the only rat at the bank.|c|
I'm sorry, what was that?
I said, "If only you had a cat at the bank."
Oh. Yes, I suppose that would work.
Well, I'll leave you gentlemen to continue your conversation.
They snicker softly to themselves.
You briefly consider showing P. H. Balance what you think of him... with a knuckle sandwich! But if they were talking YOU, the Sheriff is just itching to get you out the way. A fight would give him all the provocation he needs. Discretion wins out over raw virile manliness.
Now then, Frederick. Please don't disturb us anymore.
You can barely see a glint from the nitrous oxide canister.
You take careful aim with your pistol and slowly squeeze off a shot.
You did it! You shot off the canister's valve.
Good idea, but you just don't have a straight shot from here.
Oh, no you don't! You can't shoot the canister the EASY way, from up close! Try it from far away, just like you'd HAVE to in real life!
Yiparooni, Freddy done made them cowhands laugh themselves to death with a well-placed bullet.
It's too dark for you to make out any details of that thing hanging from the hotel balcony.
You can't see the hotel through the brothel. You left your X-Ray glasses at the Pharmacy!
You can't reach the bunting from here.
You take careful aim with your pistol and slowly squeeze off a shot.
Good idea, but you missed!
Good idea, but you just don't have a straight shot from here.
There's no longer any need to shoot the bunting.
Potshots at the hotel? From here? Save your ammo!
You can see the bunting on the Hotel balcony clear as day from here. The canister of nitrous oxide is sitting on the top rail, just minding its own business.
The bunting is clearly advertising Open Mike Night for comedians at Mom's Cafe. Now that the Hotel is out of business, Mom gets free advertising space!
You wanna touch that bunting from HERE? You must be thinking of that other Al Lowe game: PLASTIC MAN, FRONTIER PHARMACIST.
Unfortunately, you can't shoot from this complimentary close-up screen! You'll have to do it like a REAL man... from far away!
It's a pressurized metal canister of NO2, also known as Nitrous Oxide, alias "laughing gas."
You can see it as plain as day, but you can't possibly reach it from here.
Sheriff Chicken P. Shift is sitting on Madame's front porch, smoking cigars with P.H. Balance, the village banker. A hint of coal oil drifts through the night air... from him! The thought of Shift and Balance messin' around with Madame's working girls makes you thankful you don't participate in any disease-tradin' activities!
Sheriff, you know about the fire down at the Assay Office?
Fire?
No!
Ya don't say!
That's dreadful.
Why, iffn ah'm not mistaken, a fire there could wipe out mosta Main Street! And take yer Pharmacy right up along with it! One hates to contemplate it! <chuckle>
<snort, giggle>
Fortunately, I put the fire out. Baking soda, you know.
Yew WHAT?
Put the fire OUT?
Whut'd yew go and do THET fer?
Somebody could've gotten hurt! Surely you didn't want me to leave the fire BURNING, did you?
Sheriff Shift and Phineas exchange glances.
Well?
'Course not, Pharkwell. Yew done a good job there. We're right proud of yew.
Uh... yes, Frederick, very commendable.
Well, have a lovely evening, gentlemen.
Yeah, whutever.
Same to you.
Figuring that you were the topic of the Sheriff's plotting, you have an irresistible urge to knock his block off. But the TRULY amazing thing is how you manage to RESIST that urge!
Hey, now! Don't bother us, Pharmore. We's tryin' to have a conversation here.
|c2|Ye Olde 'Ore House
    est. 1869
 George Armstrong Custer
 Slept Here Repeatedly|c|
You can't talk to the sign. (It only knows sign language!)
Leave Madame's sign alone. You wouldn't want her running off with the Pharmacy sign, would you?
That's just one of the many dried-out, half-dead trees found in the area.
You have neither the desire nor the talent to climb trees.
The curtains are flappin' lazily in the warm spring breeze, carrying the scent of... well, you don't wanna know.
You couldn't possibly reach those curtains from here. Besides, you don't know where those curtain have been!
Looks like somebody's burning the midnight oil... or rubbing it!
Located on this rocky hillside is Madame Ovaree's place of business, a custom-built bawdyhouse built in the fashion of the Pastel Gothics. Of course, they had to get the rocks off the property before they could build here.
The wood on the outside of the brothel is chipped, rotting, and nearly useless. (In other words, it's nearly ex-siding!)
You can't see into the brothel from out here, but Madame does cater to Peeping Toms, and at a slight discount.
You consider writing "Wash Me" with your finger in the dirt on the glass. However, Madame would never guess you meant the window!
Madame had this gazebo built as part of her "Real Ol' Fashioned Romance Special," which cost an additional $1.25. It was never used. Coarsegold is filled with unromantic cheapskates.
Fudd's First Law: If you push it hard enough, it will fall over.
It's a white picket fence, separating Madame's property from the Great Desert Valley to the south.
If you picket, it'll get worse.
It's a cactus, growing just beyond the fence.
Touch that cactus and you may get a little prick.
Here on the "other side of the tracks," in the baddest part of town, stands Madame Sadie Ovaree's "Ye Olde 'Ore House," a gazebo, and a lot of foxtail, scrub, and brush. (Or "Scrub Brush," as Madame's fond of calling it.) You can also see parts of Main Street off in the distance.
You don't say! (Though you certainly try.)
That's going to stay right where it's painted.
Sadie Ovaree would probably not appreciate you digging up her carefully cultivated dirt.
You can see a corner of the old Engineer's Shack from here.
There's nothing in the Engineer's Shack worth toying with.
A bit of the Blacksmith Shop sign is visible from here. At least, you |c2|think|c| it's the Blacksmith's Shop. Either that or somebody erected a store called "ACKS" while you weren't looking.
You can't possibly reach it from here!
The cupola on top of the Bank of Bob is faintly visible over the Brothel's roof.
Get real.
Sam Andreas's Golden Balls are... is... right there at the end of the dirt path, across the railroad tracks.
You'll have to go over to Main Street if you want to do that.
You can kinda see the front of Mom's Cafe from here. It's the only 1-and-a-half star dining experience in the entire San Jokin' Valley!
In your dreams.
=== 410.msg ===
It's the lovely and winsome Chastity, a girl who really knows her stuff! In fact, every man in town knows her stuff!
Howdy, Chastity!
Howdy to you, you big ol' sloppy hunka manly macho woman-lovin' man!
Layin' it on a little thick tonight, aren't we?
Yeah, business is slow, but I gotta keep in practice.
Oooh, Freddy! When you touch me, I get all weird inside!
Hope you mean it!
That's Purity. She's 99 44/100ths percent impure... but she still floats!
Evening, Purity!
Evening, Freddy! Has Madame still got you under lock 'n' key, or are you gonna let us get ahold of you one of these days?
I'm afraid I'm all hers, for the time being.
Well, if you ever change your mind, honey... you know where to find us!
(And when, and how often, and for how much!)
You're such a handsome man! Girls like me really go for men like you!
Hope you mean it!
It's Virtue, one of the Madame's best-laid plans.
Howdy, Miz Virtue! You sure are a vision of loveliness!
Thank you ever so much, Freddy! And you, sir, are a study in buff!
What does that mean?
Just that you're the manliest prescription-fillin' man I ever did see!
Thank you!
The touch of your manly hand and the sight of your bulging muscles really brings out the raw animal passion in me!
What she really means is, the sight of a manly bulging WALLET really brings out the raw animal passion in her!
Hey, big boy! It's about time you showed up. Time to take my pharmacy bill out in trade?
<gulp> Sure!
Then get over here before I have to come get you, sweetie!
Right here in public??
It's Olga, for those who don't want to spend another sheepless night!
Baa-aaa-aa-a!
(Translation: How much do you charge, anyway?)
Baa-aa baa-aaa!
(Translation: I'm sheep at twice the price!)
Ba-ba baa-baa!
(Translation: Sounds like a deal!)
Baaaaaaaaa!
(Translation: Yes, I cost next to mutton!)
Ba-aa-aa-aa-aa!
(Translation: "Say, you're a goodlooking human with a gentle touch!")
Ba-aa-aa baa-aah!
(Translation: "Hope you mean it!")
The room is a riot of plush red velvet. The girls are impatiently waiting for customers so that they can go upstairs and lie down awhile.
The room is a riot of plush red velvet. The girls are upstairs, lying down. (This time, on their stomachs!)
The plush walls effectively deaden the sound of your voice as you try to talk to the accoutrement.
You can't take the whole brothel, like the other customers you'll just have to take it one piece at a time.
From down here, that looks like a curtain of rich, crushed velour.
The curtain's upstairs, and you NEVER go upstairs at the Brothel! Madame insists on keeping you all to herself.
The balustrade lends an opulent ambience to the brothel's ornamentation. (Shoot, where'd all them ten-dollar words come from?)
It's upstairs, and you can't reach it from here.
A splendid chandelier hangs in the center of the room.
You have a thing for swinging from chandeliers, eh?
It's a plush red velvet loveseat.
You'd love to sit and chat, but you're not here for relaxation.
A couple of plush red velvet chairs have been strategically placed in the room so as to offer customers the girls' best profiles.
You won't need any plush red velvet chairs in your quest for truth, justice, liberty, and a good time.
The windows and entryways are festooned with plush red velvet curtains.  (Festooned: from the Latin "festus," to drawl in a southern accent and shlep around in a lazy fashion and just sort of drape yourself over furniture.)
You can't open or close them; they're nailed just the way they are, with sensuous curves and folds vaguely suggestive of female anatomy. Or Shar Pei puppies, depending on your point-of-view.
There's a handsome silver tea set on the coffee table. It stands out, since it's just about the only thing in the room that isn't plush red velvet!
You prefer sarsaparilla, thank you very much. (In a cracked, dirty bottle.)
The clock's pendulum swings constantly. Just like Madame's girls!
The clock never needs winding... just a little jiggle now and then.
These cupids decorate the stair banister.
Aren't they just too too?
A charming picture window looks out over the side of the house. The view's a little blurry, though, owing to all the slobber on the outside of the window. 
Madame's windows don't open. She doesn't want anyone chickening out at the last moment.
A brass cuspidor, known as a "spittoon," sits next to the plush red velvet armchair. (Spittoons for FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST furnished by Louie Loogie, Phlegmy, Mass.)
There's nothing in the spittoon that you can't come up with on your own.
These stairs lead to the girls' private rooms.
You can't go up there, Freddy. Penelope would never forgive you. And neither would Madame!
Madame's set out some wine and glasses. A few drinks helps the customers loosen up. The girls are already loose enough. No, wait... the customers drink wine and get tight, and the girls aren't... oh, never mind.
No wine for you, Freddy Pharkas! You need to maintain a clear, unmuddled head in order to uphold crime and defeat justice! (Or something like that.)
It's a coffee table, big enough for those extra-kinky encounters.
There's no reason to move the coffee table.
It's a plush red velvet carpet! You love the way it squishes between your toes. (Er... not that you were ever bare-footed in here... certainly not...)
You cautiously peek beneath the rug, and see a maze of twisty passages, all alike. Just kidding. There's nothing under |c0|this|c| rug.
Why, it's a lovely painting of Fred and Ginger. (You know, Fred Mertz and Ginger Grant, that hot new minstrel team!)
Someday, I'm going to go to the big city and see your act!
The painting is unimpressed by your empty promises.
There's nothing behind the painting except plush red flocked wallpaper.
There are some candles burning in the anteroom. They not only add atmosphere, but their fresh springtime scent covers up those embarrassing odors!
These fancy-shmancy imported candles are dripless, unlike most of Madame's customers. (Hey, you've got a dirty mind. That means, most of Madame's customers are the biggest drips around!)
It's a large statuette of Shmeros, the God of Can't We Just Be Good Friends.
Shmeros, will Penelope and I be married and live happily ever after?
A small window in the statue's head reveals the message, "All signs point to yes."
You touch the statue gently. Shmeros glares at you as if to say, "I trusted you to just BE FRIENDLY, and what did you do? I told you, we no longer have a physical relationship."
The working girls keep their clothes in here.
Opening the cabinet and touching the girls' dainty underthings costs two bucks extra. Just send $2 to Sierra On-Line, Dainty Underthings Dept. (No, wait, don't. Send it to Ken Williams, personally!)
A variety of plush red velvet and green glass lamps can be found here.
Mmmmm! You do so love the smell of scorching flesh as you feel the lamps under your calloused pharmacist's fingertips.
A stack of naughty French Postcards sits on the coffee table, in order to titillate some of the less forward customers.
You snatch the French Postcards.
This chamber leads into Madame's private boudoir. No "unaccompanied" males allowed.
There's nothing worth snatching in this anteroom.
Wow, Chastity! You sure know how to kiss!
All in a day's work, Freddy, all in a day's work.
=== 420.msg ===
Freddy, I... I think you should leave.
Why, Sadie? Just because I'm just using you for cheap, tawdry pleasure when my heart belongs to Penelope Primm, the gorgeous, young, obviously more virtuous, new town Schoolmarm?
|c0|What??? WHO???|c|
Oh, nothing, never mind. What were you saying?
Oh... I was just saying I think you should leave. Leave TOWN, that is!  There's... oh Freddy, there's just no easy way to say this. The girls say the Sheriff and the Banker talk in their sleep. They hate you, Freddy. They want you dead. They're out to get you.
Now don't you worry, Sadie. I've been doing a pretty good job up 'til now using just my wits and my pharmacological knowledge, haven't I? I'm not gonna just turn tail and run and leave you (and Penelope) and Coarsegold behind me to fend for yourselves.
You're not LISTENIN' to me, Freddy Pharkas! Thar's MEN a comin', men with GUNS. BIG guns! Guns with LONG barrels. Long, HARD barrels. Long, hard, STEELY barrels and low-slung holsters... and... and... (SLAP!)
Sadie, snap out of it.
Oh, sorry, I was just visualizin'. Anyway, you'll never be able to outthink men with GUNS! If you're set on stayin' in town, you'll have to... you know, go back to your old ways!
That's out of the question. I left gunslingin' behind me years ago. I'm not like that anymore, and I don't want to discuss it.
Stop it. You've gotta choose, an' that's all there is to it. Either leave town and save yer hide, or pull yourself together and face reality. Quit talkin' about potions and liniments; they're not gonna stop no bullets. It's time to get offa yer cute li'l butt and give these men a taste o' Frontier JUSTICE!
Now, what're you gonna do?
I don't know... I don't know... Hold me, Sadie. Press me to your ample bosom, and let me decide tomorrow.
'Kay!
=== 500.msg ===
The sign says, simply, "Rooms," referring to the Dirty Sheets Hotel.
This window looks in on the kitchen of Mom's Cafe.
Hey, Mom! Come to the window, why don't you!
You wait. Apparently Mom hasn't caught on to the "drive-up window" concept yet.
Mom wants it open. And you don't want to cross Mom!
This is the alternate route into the Saloon. It lacks the characteristic Western feel of swinging doors... but it has the distinct advantage of being lockable!
It's the roof of Reverend Sy Hallelujah's house.
The Reverend's house is locked and shuttered. Who's minding the Church?
Dad Gumm's Traveling Medicine Show wagon sits nearby, awaiting the return of Dad Gumm and start of the Traveling Medicine Show season.
There are a few assorted old trunks sitting on top of Dad Gumm's wagon.
You can't reach them. There's nothing in them. They're not your property. They'd crumble if you'd touch them. Basically, you're too lazy.
A gnarled old tree grows next to the Synagogue and stretches up, forming a canopy over the yard.
Even the lowest branch is far too high up for you to climb.
These stairs lead up to the balcony of the closed hotel.
The stairs feel solid enough, though they sag a bit.
The blue sign is advertising "large, clean rooms, daily & weekly." No wonder the Dirty Sheets Hotel closed; they advertised the competition!
Hung crookedly on the side of the Hotel is an advertisement for Atticus's Bath House, a local institution that didn't last a year. Folks in Coarsegold have traditionally been fiercely proud of how unwashed they are.
Oh, leave it alone, it's part of Americana.
This is the back of what once was the Dirty Sheets Hotel. Now it's the Dirty Sheets hangout for vagrants, hobos and bums. Hmmm. Nothing's much changed 'cept the prices!
You can't take it, push it, pull it, turn it, open it, close it, or basically do anything with it.
A colorful poster for Nunstyle Beer hangs on the back of Mom's Cafe. |c2|"Nunstyle Beer... pure-brewed in God's Country."|c| Now in redeemable bottles!
You've got a great eye for memorabilia. Unfortunately, it won't be collectible for another 100 years.
Somebody's posted a flier here, trying to convince the Town Council to bring co-ed rodeo to the San Jokin' Valley.
You're not interested in co-ed rodeo. Though you've met more than your share of Rodeo Mimes you wouldn't mind hog-tying and branding!
This is the back of Mom's Cafe. She used to have a door here instead of a window, but nobody wanted to come in Mom's Rear Entry. (Hey! Stop thinking that!)
Knocking on the wall here will dent Mom's durable and attractively-painted Masonite siding.
This is Sam's Rear. And this is Sam's Rear with a couple of barrels by the back door. Any questions?
If you want to get into the Saloon from here, try the back door.
This small yard opens up to Bluff Street on the north side; the south side faces the back end of the Saloon and Mom's Cafe. The Hotel flanks the east side and the Old Abandoned Synagogue lies to the west.
It's speechless.
It ain't goin' nowhere.
The ground here is too hard and dry to be moved. (Much like Mom's heart!)
How tempting! Fresh apple pie, still warm from Mom's oven. Why, it's as American as Mom's apple pie!
Good move, Freddy! Dropping one steaming hot pie to get another!
You slyly attempt to swipe the apple pie from under Hop Singh's nose!
Nice try, Freddy Pharkas! You want me remove your hands with Ginfu Knife? I happy to accommodate!
On second thought, maybe that wasn't such a good idea right now.
There's an ice pick stuck into a barrel here.
You pull the ice pick out of the barrel and gingerly place it in your pocket. Just don't bend over suddenly or you'll circumcise yourself. (Of course, that won't be any skin off YOUR nose!)
Hopalong Singh's in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. (Or something equally inedible!)
Howdy, Hopalong!
Freddy Pharkas! You no hang around my kitchen! Go away! Get lost!
Nice to see you, too.
Hop Singh's moving too fast to be caught!
This window not for handing things back-and-forth! You have something for Hop Singh, you come in front entrance like normal people!
This not drive-up window! You ahead of time, Freddy Pharkas!
Hah! Missed me!
Wow! Some of Dad Gumm's Magic Elixir. This stuff can be used to cure a wide variety of conditions... the foremost being "sobriety."
You surreptitiously swipe the elixir, looking around to see if anybody is watching. Fortunately, nobody is.
Some old empty half-kegs are sitting outside the Saloon.
Don't bother trying to open the barrels. They're empty. There's nothing left but the smell.
=== 540.msg ===
Very good, Freddy Pharkas!. Let us try some quickdrawing. Just make sure you hit the target and not me!!
I am applauding inside myself! Now for the big challenge of all-- six bottles at once!
Go ahead. Make our day.
I'm one bad hombre! Do your worst! 
I'm feelin' pretty tough. But don't bust my chops.
I had too much tequila last night! Go easy!
Srini dodges your bullet!
Okee the dokee, Freddy Pharkas! First, we shall see if you can successfully strike the bottles from afar with the bullets of your pistol. Then I will toss the bottles up in the air and you may try to hit them in flight. Good luck and may the best man win.
=== 550.msg ===
Feeling lucky, punk?
Pardner, I could outgun the Magnificent Seven! Bring 'em on!  
Well, I won at tiddly-winks the other day. I'll give it m'best shot.
      Let's face it, I'm a wuss.      
=== 560.msg ===
Kid, I want you out of town by sundown!
Why, sure, Stranger! I'll be ridin' outta town well BEFORE sundown... leavin' your sorry carcass for the buzzards to pick apart!
Will not.
Will too.
Not.
Too.
N.
T.
I refuse to play this juvenile word game with you.
I refuse to play this juvenile word game with you.
What are you doing now, repeating everything I say?
What are you doing now, repeating everything I say?
So THAT'S why they call you "Kenny the |c2|Kid|c|!" Because you're nothing but an immature little child, an anal-retentive case of arrested development, with an unresolved Oedipal complex and probably co-dependent to boot! You were a punk when I faced you back in St. Louie, and you're still a punk!
Say your prayers, Outlaw.
NOW CUT THAT OUT!
St. Louis? I didn't know anybody with a silver ear in St. Louis. Yet somehow you seem vaguely familiar...
Maybe we'll have time to compare yearbook photos... IN HELL!
Your respect for frontier etiquette won't let you draw first. Wait 'till you see Kenny start to draw, then do your best!
=== 570.msg ===
And as the blood runs from your body, so do your hopes of saving Coarsegold and achieving legendary Western Hero status.
Welp, ya knocked the gun outta my hand, Hero, but it warn't good enuf to keep me from hittin' YOU first! Sorry I got a mite sloppy when I PIERCED YER EAR! Har har! Looks like you'll bleed to death in a few seconds. Guess I can now tell Penelope that yew won't be interferin' with her plans anymore.
Penelope?!
What did he say? Your head's swimming, but you're sure he said, "Penelope!" Could it be? Her? Could SHE be the cause of all this?
It's your "lucky" red neckerchief. Once again, it doesn't seem to be working!
You weakly pull the neckerchief from around your neck.
You've looked better.
You poke yourself. You're still alive, but barely.
Trying to put yourself out of your misery? What are you, a man or a horse? Save yourself!
It's your good ear... or what's left of it!
The blood runs through your fingers. Ecccccch!
You place your lucky neckerchief on your ear and press on it to staunch the flow of blood.
With your last remaining ounce of strength, you pull yourself up and stumble off towards the schoolhouse... to see Penelope.
Penelope... Penelope, the sweet... Penelope, my beloved... Penelope... the TRAITOR!
Kenny's gun is still smoking. (Of course, that's very bad for its health!)
Your hat, like all Western heroes' hats, stays on through just about ANYthing!
Kenny the Kid looms over you, grinning cruelly.
You've never seen Main Street from this angle: lying half-dead in the middle of the street, your life swimming before your eyes as your blood pools in the dust... What a view! You imagine you'll never see a view like THIS again as long as you live!
You can hardly move. You can't reach anything beyond yourself.
Kenny has managed to shoot off a sizable portion of your GOOD ear!
You shoot the gun out of Kenny's hand! Unfortunately, you did it just after HE shot YOU!
Kenny looks down at you with pure, undisguised malice and disgust.
Welp, Mister Bigshot Gunslinger, looks t'me like yer bark was worse'n yer bite. Wait'll I tell the Boss how easy I whupped your butt, yew sorry excuse for a hero. Now die here in the dirt like the puny li'l pig yew are! See ya in hell, pal! (VICIOUS LAUGH)
He spits into the dust, and trudges off cockily.
Your eyes are getting heavy...
You poke yourself in the eye. Nice going!
A trickle of blood runs from your mouth.
Flubble-ubble-ubble-ubble!
Now that you've got THAT out of the way, do you think you could try to save yourself?
===600.msg ===
This is your pharmacy. Where you work. Hence the name, "Pharkas' Pharmacy."
You and that are not on speaking terms.
Quit picking at everything. That's the sign of an obsessive/compulsive personality disorder. But, that's... okay.
This door leads to your back office, laboratory, and the stairs to the second floor.
You thought an Iced Cream Stand would attract customers. Mostly, it attracts cockroaches. Especially now that the Iced Cream deliveries have stopped.
Yes, you often feel like ripping this Iced Cream Stand down and binging on the dregs of the leftover toppings. But you have to watch your heroic, girlish figure.
Ahh, your Diploma from the University of Hicksville School of Apothecary Sciences and Other Good Guesses. The old alma mater. What memories!
But it's hung so well!
The top shelf is where you keep all the newest, most scientifically advanced medications safe from shoplifters:
You won't need that one.
Here on the second shelf, close at hand, is where you keep the most expensive medicines out of reach of the customers:
NEW YORK CITY?!?!
Nope, won't need any of that particular one.
The items on the top shelf here are one or two weeks past their expiration dates:
You don't need any of these items, and even if you did, they've expired.
On the lowermost shelf of this case, you keep slightly scratched, dented, or previously-used items:
Chemists who keep up on their trade journals (like you always mean to do) know that these preparations aren't worth the bottles they're bottled in.
On the middle shelf, you store discontinued items:
Savvy druggists (like you) eschew the use of trashy medicinals like these.
Up on the top shelf here, you keep your overstock:
Pharmacists in the know, like yourself, know that there's no value to these phony curatives. That doesn't stop you from selling them, though!
This hand-painted sign adds a real touch of friendly, folksy atmosphere to the place. It also spells "Pharmacy" phonetically, inbreeding being as popular as it is around here.
Certainly you're desperate for a sign of some sort, but not THIS kind of sign.
It's the back counter where you, Freddy Pharkas, Frontier Pharmacist Extraordinaire, dispense your wares.
There's nothing there to be taken. You keep your business tidy... which is easy to do when there ain't much business!
The items on the second shelf are about a month past their saleable shelf life:
You don't need any of these items, and even if you did, they're expired.
The items on the third shelf are 3-4 months past their usable shelf life:
You don't need any of these items, and even if you did, they're expired.
The bottom shelf holds the items that are a year or more past their shelf lives, OR have been found to be poisonous and/or illegal, OR have inexplicably reproduced on their own:
You don't need to use any of these items, and even if you did, you'd expire.
You've always wanted a counter gate; now you have one. And now you know they're a pain in the butt.
Your overhead designer lamps are rarely used, since the pharmacy closes at sunset.
No need to turn on the lamps. The dry rot gives off a dandy phosphorescent glow.
That's another table upon which to display your many valuable patent medicines and innovative treatments.
It took you weeks to get the bottles arranged just so. Don't blow it now.
This multi-instrument piano-roll-style juke machine is called a "Symphonium." Trouble is, the company that sold it to you went out of business after producing only one roll. And how many times can one person listen to "Does Your Chawin' Tobacco Lose Its Flavor On the Bedpost Overnight"?
The Symphonium hasn't worked since 1885, when old Manny Rivberg put his fist through it.
"Ol' Manny Rivberg... That Ol' Manny Rivberg. He just keeps..."
That's enough! Say any more and we'll have to pay a royalty!
Here, on top of your "Reduced!" table:
Nope, that's not one of the pills, poultices or preparations you'll need.
On top of this cabinet, you have a stunningly arranged display of Old Snuffy's Limproot Hair Oil Creme (in the 8 oz., 16 oz., and Giant 64 oz. "Baby Huey" jars), as well as a few dusty boxes of Rustler's Stove Chocolates.
You won't need any Limproot Hair Oil Creme or Rustler's Stove Chocolates today.
On the upper shelf of the left-hand cabinet, you find:
You briefly consider shoplifting some of these items, but hey, you really already own them, so where's the excitement?
On the bottom shelf of the left-hand cabinet are:
You don't need any underarm oatmeal packs; you took care of THAT little problem this morning! And fortunately, you don't need any of this other stuff either!
It's the President's wife. She's the head of the "Just Say No to Ether" campaign.
Mrs. Cleveland, I just want you to know that your "Just Say No to Ether" campaign has really inspired me. I'm totally committed to wiping out anesthetic abuse in our lifetime.
Keep talking to photographs and you WILL be committed!
Leave her where she is, as a shining beacon to all who gaze upon her serene countenance. (Incidentally, have you heard about her scandalous affair?)
It's Saint Joseph, patron saint of chewable aspirin.
If you pick it up, all the luck will run out of the bottom.
This bottle is filled with this century's most incredible medical breakthrough.
You won't be needing any leeches in this game.
Back then, this is what was known as a "support system."
Seems sturdy enough... for now.
This sign clearly lets the townsfolk know that the prescription counter is in the back of the store.
Someday, maybe there'll be a glass tube there, bent in the shape of the word "Prescription," filled with a rare gas that will glow in brilliant colors. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Boy, that'd make people actually WANT to buy drugs!
You can't talk to the sign! (It only knows sign language!)
We were going to put in this elaborate animation of you touching the giant finger, like the creation mural on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel depicting God touching Adam's finger with lightning bolts crackling all around. But, screw it.
Thisi is a deluxe shelving unit, featuring polished mahogany inlays, filigreed endcaps, extra-wide midheight shelf and no-skid recessed legs. (Shelving units for FREDDY PHARKAS provided by Crate & Whisky Keg.)
They're already arranged in a pleasing yet sales-conducive manner.
This is a deluxe shelving unit, featuring polished mahogany inlays, filigreed endcaps, extra-wide midheight shelf and no-skid recessed legs. (Shelving units for FREDDY PHARKAS, FRONTIER PHARMACIST provided by Crate & Whisky Keg.)
They're already arranged in a pleasing yet sales-conducive manner.
On the upper shelf of the right display case, you keep some of your hot sellers:
Your survival instincts narrowly prevent you from using any of the items on this shelf.
On the lower shelf of the right display case, you keep some old, reliable, steady sellers:
You wouldn't recommend any of these preparations to your worst enemy.
Hey, Pharkas! M'butt's killin' me.
He does know how to make an entrance, doesn't he?
Sorry to hear that, Smithie.
Yeah, so gimme some o' dat Preparation G.
It's Smithie the Blacksmith, owner of Smithie's Blacksmith and a durned clever fellow. He seems to be in pain.
Why not your usual six-pack of liniment, Smithie?
Wall, Mr. Pharkas, I'ma fixin' to take a long ride. I'ma gonna leave town. The Sheriff shut me down for operatin' without a Smithie License, whutever the hell that is. So I sold that lousy property offn to that cheap snake of a banker, P. H. Balance, down to the Bank of Bob. And good riddance, sez I!
I'll be sorry to see y'all go, Smithie.
Yeah, well, this town's goin' ta hell in a hand-me-down, anyway. Sumpthin's wrong with them horses out there, they's pooting up a storm. Cain't hardly take the smell, I wuz like to pass out around there!
That ain't whut I come in here fer! C'mon, Pharkas, I'm itchin' to blow this taco stand. Gimmee my Preparation G, willya?
Frederick!
Thank you, Frederick, this looks perfect! You are a scholar and a gentleman.
Shucks, I'm just a poor pharmacist tryin' to please m' favorite customer. Will I see you again soon?
I think that can be arranged, Frederick. See you soon.
I'll be waiting. S'long, now, Penelope. 
Why, Miss Primm, you sure are lookin' purty today!
Now, Frederick, you can call me Penelope if you please. After all, I think we're... to that point in our relationship.
She must be talking about the hayride you both went on last month... or the square dance you both went to last week... or the cow-tipping expedition you both went on last night!
Well, then, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?
This isn't a social call, I'm afraid. I have this rather important prescription Doc Gillespie gave me. I was hoping you could fill it as soon as possible.
My pleasure, Penelope.
I apologize for the scruffiness of the Prescription. Doctor Gillespie was in his cups again.
No trouble, Penelope, that's as usual.
I'll just wait right here if you don't mind, Frederick.
Well now, I admit you're somewhat of a distraction to me, Penelope, but I'll do m'best!
Penelope hands you the prescription.
Frederick!
Penelope! It's so good to see you again!
I'm afraid this isn't good news, Frederick. This prescription you filled for me?
Yes? What about it?
Well, one of the children tasted a bit -- just a bit, mind you, on the tip of his finger, just to see what it tasted like.
And?
I had to send him home. Chills, fever, bloody stool, the whole thing. I do hate to be a pest, but I'm terrified that this may be incorrectly prepared. Could you take another look at it?
For you... anything.
Unfortunately, you were so taken with Penelope's angelic presence that you forgot to charge her the 19 cents she owed you!
Frederick! Oh, Frederick!
Penelope, dearest! My heart leaps at seeing you in my humble store again.
I'm afraid it's not a happy occasion, Frederick. This prescription seems letter-perfect, except for the amount. Can you take another look at it? I'd hate for either one of us to be cheated.
Goodness! I'll remake it right away, Penelope, and I'll get it perfect.  This time, for sure! Wait right here.
It's Penelope, the love of your life! Right here in your very own pharmacy! And she's as beautiful as the day she stepped off the stage!
I sure have been having a swell time with you these past few weeks, Penelope!
Why, thank you, Frederick. I have, too.
I do believe I have a... a growing... uh... a growing AFFECTION for you!
That's sweet of you, Frederick. I think you're very cute... for a pharmacist, that is. Considering that you've only got one ear. And you're scrawnier than the other men around town.
(TO SELF) She thinks I'm cute! She thinks I'm cute!
How's school, Penelope?
Oh, how I love filling those impressionable young minds with knowledge, their eager faces turned upward in the quest to learn. It's so satisfying!
I was wondering if you were going to go to the Rotary Club luncheon next week, and if so, if you had anybody else to go with.
Forgive me, Frederick, I do so hate to be short with you, but I DO need this prescription... otherwise I'd love to stay and chat. Please don't think me impertinent!
Not at all, it's my fault for prattling on so. I'll get right to it.
I really can't wait to get my ha...
Frederick, |c2|please!|c| I need to get back to school as soon as possible!
Of course, of course, of course. Right away, Penelope.
Please, Frederick! Not in public!  And not in broad daylight! And never, ever before our nineteenth date!
I'm sorry, Frederick, I'm only interested in picking up my prescription just now. I'll be happy to look at your toys any other time!
Yes, Frederick, it's my prescription. Do you think you could fill it for me?
If I'm any sort of a pharmacist, I should be able to. I'm not sure what's taking me so long.
Good day, Freddy... Freddy Pharkas!
That's better, Freddy Pharkas.
That'll be 22 cents, Miss Back.
Put it on my tab, I don't have it with me right now.
Well, g'day to you, Ms. Back! What can I do for you today?
Well, Freddy Pharkas, Doc Gillespie, that no-good, gin-soaked sodden ol' lush, wrote me this damn prescription that'll probably cost me an arm and a leg. Here. Take this prescription, the rotgut from that old wino doctor is making my new ensemble stink to high heaven.
Mr. Pharkas!
Yes, Helen?
I accidentally gave a bit of this so-called "medicine" to one of my pets. AND IT DIED! Obviously, this is not fit for consumption. Now take back my prescription and get it RIGHT this time. Or you'll feel the wrath of my handbag!
I'm so sorry, Ms. Back. I'll take another stab at it, and I'll remove the charge from your tab until I get it right.
Humph!
Frederick Pharkas!
Yes, Mom? What can I do for you now?
Are you trying to pull the sheep over my eyes?
Huh?
This prescription! Oh, the medication seems just fine, but the quantity is wrong. I want exactly how much is prescribed, no more, no less. Is that understood?
Jeepers, I'm sorry, Mom. I'll do it right this time, just you wait and see.
See that you do! And don't you dare charge me for this until you get it RIGHT!
I won't, I won't, consider it stricken from your tab.
This is Helen Back, proprietor of Mom's Cafe.
To get good food in Coarsegold, you have to go to Helen Back!
So, how's the restaurant business?
Heh. Don't ask.
Okay, sorry.
I swear my delicate constitution ain't up to the heat and flies this year. Hop Singh's spendin' more time swattin' flies than he is in the kitchen, he hardly has time to wash his hands. 'Course we ain't gettin' nuthin' delivered on time anymore 'cuz of the train; we gotta get our produce by Pony Express, and it ain't too pretty oncet gets here.
"Pony Express: When It Positively, Absolutely Has to Be There By The Industrial Revolution."
But I don't wanna complain. Just get my prescription filled, will you?  There's a lad.
Hands off, buster. What do I look like, one of the Madame's girls? I'm a respectable woman! I run Mom's Cafe! I've got children your age, though of course you wouldn't know it to look at me! I'M SOMEONE'S MOTHER, for corn sake! So show me some RESPECT and just KEEP your HANDS to yourSELF! Now fill my prescription or I'll break your fingers.
Does that look anything like my prescription?
No, but...
Well, that's what I'm here for, and I'm not interesting in being sold something else!
That's not mine. Now get back to my prescription.
Certainly you don't expect ME to fill this prescription!
Freddy, honey! Just slide that handsome pharmacist butt on over here, I got something I need from ya.
Thank you, Freddy dear!
That's gonna be 22 cents, Sadie, but for you, I'll make it 19.
Whaddaya say we just sorta "take it out in trade," Freddy? I'm a mite short this week.
Well...
Thank you, Freddy, you're a lambikins. Catch you tonight, maybe? Ta-ta!
Morning, Sadie. What've you got?
I gotta prescription here I need filled... sumpin' that'll increase my womanly powers, iffn you know whut I mean. Be a dear and fill it for me right away, won't you? I simply can't wait to try it out.
Your wish is my command, Madame!
You take the prescription from the Madame. What a busy morning! You haven't had to fill this many prescriptions since Custer's troops stayed at the Dirty Sheets Hotel.
Oh, Freddy!
Sadie! Back so soon?
I hate to say this, but one of the girls tried a swig of this. Now I'm down one girl! I'll have to send out to St. Louis for another! Would you mind very much looking at this and seeing what's up, honey?
Hmmm, very strange. OK, I'll give it another try. Dunno what went wrong...
Freddy, sweetums?
Sadie! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon!
I hate to tell you, but one of the girls tried a smidge of this, just for fun. Now she's got a goatee. Can you figure out why this stuff seems to |c0|decrease|c| womanliness rather than |c0|increase|c| it?
That's a tough one. I'll do what I can, though. Hmmmmm.
You reclaim the prescription from Mme. Ovaree.
It's Madame Sadie Ovaree, proprietor of Ye Olde 'Orehouse, and your closest friend and confidant. In fact, she knows EVERYTHING about you!
How's business, Sadie?
Oh, it has its ins-and-outs! (CHUCKLES) Oh, my, I do make a good funny now and then, don't I?
Yes, Sadie, you sure do.
Now now, Freddy Pharkas! Normally I'd love to oblige, but I'm off-duty right now. Feel free to drop by tonight, though!
Freddy, darlin', you know I just LOVE to see your stuff, but let's stick to business for the moment, shall we?
Why don't you keep it 'til you're finished with it?
Srini's on the other side of the counter. So be polite if you want to do that, and join him.
Your faithful Indian companion, Srini, is hard at work preparing your store for its grand reopening... someday soon, you hope.
Shall we go do some target practice, Srini? I'm all set, I think.
Looks like you are ready to begin commencing the start of our target practice outing, Freddy. Please to meet me forthwith nearby to the cemetery, where I have scoped out a location of perfection!
Srini!
Dude!
Everything going OK in here?
What is it looking like? I am having everything under control. You have merely to go be a hero and I will continue holding up the fort.
Thanks!
Srini, are you going to help me put out the fire, or what?
There is much stock work yet to be done.
It's midnight.
I am still on Pakistani time.
That's a pretty poor excuse for not helping me put out the fire!
I have many other excuses ready if you do not like that one.
Never mind, I'll do it myself.
The fire's out, but I don't feel like sleeping.
Yes, too much excitement for Freddy. You will be overtired tomorrow morning.
I hate it when that happens.
Try to relax and reduce stress. Visit friends.
It's midnight! What kind of friends can I visit this time of night?
Indeed that is a question you have well asked.
Srini, I think I'm ready to get dressed.
Very good then! You start to dress and I will assist you in shortest order.
Srini, I'd like to get into my cowboy outfit now.
I do not think you are ready! You are mostly missing some stylish cowboy-style footwear.
Dang!
Srini! Hey, I've got my complete disguise!
Not hardly so, Freddy Pharkas!
Why the hell not?
You are desiring of being a gunslinger, but you are not having any guns!  Where have you forgotten them?
Oh. Whoops. Be right back.
Hey, Srini! Let's get me dressed up, I'm ready to get into disguise.
No may do, Freddy Pharkas!
What? Why not?
You still lack for a way to disguise the mostly-missing right ear.
Srini! Let's get me into outfit, I'm ready to start blowing away some varmint butt!
Not so fastly! Where have you got dissimilar duds? You cannot be a gunslinger with pharmacy owner clothing.
Doggone it!
Srini, I've got everything I need... silver ear, pistols, clothes, and boots.  Let's get me dressed!
Not yet, not yet!
What in tarnation are we waiting for?
You will want to wear something lucky. Have you any such thing?
Not on me. Hmmmm. Doggone you anyway, Srini!
Srini, there's trouble down at the Saloon. The whole town's losing their deeds and cash to some slick riverboat gambler-type. He MUST be cheating, but danged if I can figure out how!
Freddy Pharkas, Freddy Pharkas! You must catch such a gambler red-handed. It will be the only way to prove such an accusation!
Durn it, I wish I knew how.
Many things are durned in these days of trouble.
It's crazy out there, Srini! A whole buncha rowdy cowhands are busting up Main Street. I almost didn't make it back alive!
Yes, I have been hearing their obnoxiousness. You are outgunned, Freddy Pharkas!
How do you propose I should deal with them?
I find humor a way to defuse hot tempers. But I am a humble pharmacist's assistant. Perhaps I am looking at the situation from too far away.
Srini, let's go practice target-shooting.
That is a good leisure-time activity for us to do, yes all right! But how are we even to begin without such that until you locate some sort of shooting mechanism, I must wonder?
Oh, details, details. Harumph.
Srini, let's go practice my target shooting.
Freddy, you have come up with a surprise! But you are needing ammunition before we can commence to start beginning such an undertaking.
Don't shout at Srini from behind the counter. Walk over and talk to him like a human being! Were you born in a barn?
Oooooh! You are giving me a tickles!
You offer me an empty can? Ah, by doing so, you are offering me the clean air that fills this can! You are most generous! I give this can back to you with gladly thanks and best wishes for continued good health! Mazel tov!
In my country, we have struggled for years to learn to do without the need for ice picks.
I am loving your charcoal, Freddy Pharkas! It is most crumbly and clean-smelling!
Thank you, Srini!
I have no use for the strap of leather. Perhaps you should save it for an emergency that requires leather in some way.
What would I do without you?
I do not wish it. Please to use it by yourself.
Do not give that to me, Freddy Pharkas! You are the dispensing pharmacist in these parts!
(DR SEUSS STYLE) I do not eat beef, snails, or ham. I do not eat them, Fred I am.
Perhaps you may put these to good use soon!
You are a most fortunate individual to be holding keys. I struggle much of my life to find keys.
Srini, my boy, you just have to know where to click.
You do? Humph and humph! I have never thought of this!
The ladder that saved my life! I remember it finely!
You have a rope! What can happen next?
What do you mean?
Do not ever mind, it was a rhetorical answer!
Hey there, some buckaroo! With that lasso, you are looking very cowboy-style!
A metallic canister of some substance! That is certainly high-tech for the 1800s! Are you sure it is not an anachronism?
Not really.
Well then! I do not know what more to add!
Ah, yes, the shipment of baking soda. It was delivered while you were out.
It's a little much.
I am being told so now by you!
Are these for keepsies?
Um... I was just showing them to you.
Then I do not want them. Your American women are too skinny as it is.
Ah, wax, a most remarkable substance. You are truly fortunate to possess some.
Do not threaten me, Freddy Pharkas! I am working out as well as I am!
You aim the pistol at Srini... and FIRE!
I am dodging too fast for you to see. That is the way of my people.
Ah, apple pie. I look at it and can think only of the screams of thousands of apples dying for your pie. I do not understand how a thinking person can eat of it. But I love us for our differences.
I prefer Golden Shower♦ Herbal Tea. I like mine tepid... with a twist!
Ooh, you keep that now, Freddy Pharkas. You can be using it to ensure guns are clean enough to use with impunity.
They appear as though to be most effective, they are having to be propelled with much force from a firing chamber!
Translation: you need a GUN, Einstein!
Oh! You have clay! Now you are really the person I thought you were!
You have taken it for some reason. I am not needing it back. I am no Indian-giver. Please keep it until you find a use for it.
Ah, I see you are doing lost-wax casting! You are truly a guy!
That is a most handsome and clever use of my medallion! Now all you need is other things for your disguise.
What else do I need?
I believe you should have something different than your current shoes, something other than your current clothes, the pistols you used during the practicing you recently completed, and something for good luck! Then wear your ear, and I will know you are ready to be all dressed up like a big cowboy!
You keep those, Freddy Pharkas! They can help make you look like a real Western Hero!
Ah, yes! It will be ready on Tuesday! Hee hee hee! I have made a funny. Excuse my jocularity. I do not know whence this piece of paper comes.
Yes, they are truly boots worthy of a Western Hero. May you have an opportunity to wear them with pridefulness.
I do not recognize it, but it is a handsome addition to any wardrobe.
This is your personal mail. I am not reading it now or ever!
You are walking around with a shovel! Surely that is unusual.
I guess so.
That Freddy! I never know what to expect from you so far!
I do not wish to be left holding the bag. But you are a thoughtful employer for making the offer of such a rare and unusual substance to me.
I do not need a bag. All I need is all I have.
I am full up of that. But thanks to you anyway.
It is looking better and better, more like an ear all the time! Freddy Pharkas, you are truly a Renaissance lost-wax caster!
You are a lost-wax casting fool, Freddy Pharkas! Ways to go!
That appears most empty! Perhaps it needs to be filled with a substance that will make an impressive ear!
That is a most beautiful likeness! But it is of your left ear. You need one of your right ear.
WHAT?
Ha ha, I am pulling down your legs! You have carved correctly!
That's be 15 cents, Smithie. But I don't suppose you can pay me.
Are yew sayin' I can't pay m'bills fair and square, Pharkas? Heh! Here, I'm a-gonna settle up tabs with you anyway, since I'm leavin' town. Here's whut I owes ya.
Smithie pays you his tab. A whole $4.87! Holy moly, a windfall! YOU'RE RICH! (Well, kinda sorta.)
And if yew takes my advice, yew'll get outta this town, Pharkas. Sheriff's closin' people up right and left. Sumpthin' stinks. An' I mean them horses, 'cuz they's fartin' up a storm! I'm tellin' ya, I wuz like to pass out. Sumbuddy musta put sumpin' in their feed! I don't know what, but I'll tell ya, don't go strikin' no matches out there!
Good luck to ya, Pharkas. You wuz always one o' the gooduns.
Good luck to you, Smithie. Your strong back and gruff-but-good-hearted demeanor will be sorely missed.
But you wuz a strange 'un!
Fire inspection! I'm here to check out chur fire safety, per the new town regulations. Whoa! Lookee here! It'sa good thing I came. Pharkas, I'ma gonna havta shut this place up tighter than a pissant's scrotum.
But, Sheriff! How could you? What's the charge? I haven't done anything wrong!
Fire hazard, my boy; fire hazard! Why, this buildin's a terrible fire hazard, Pharkas! Looks tah me like this whole damn buildin's made outta wood!
But, Sheriff! Every building in this town is constructed of wood!
I dunno nuttin' 'bout that, son. Tough luck, Pharkas. From now on, just keep the front door locked.
But what am I supposed to do, Sheriff? This is my livelihood.
If'n I was yew, I'd talk to the bank. Ga'day!
It's a silver medallion, recently awarded to Srini by the American Society of Salves, Holistic Ointments, Liniments and Emollients Salesmen. It was in honor of his impressive and yet oddly comforting display of Ol' Gampy's Fisherman Throat Gullet Descaler Lozenges.
You carefully remove the medallion from the wall.
Srini will never miss this.
Freddy Pharkas! What in an entirely unsatisfactory afterlife are you doing with my finely-earned silver medallion?
It's going to a good cause, Srini. It's going to help make Coarsegold a safer, saner place to live.
I am hoping so, Freddy, for all the sakes!
You can't reach the medallion from here. Perhaps you should set up some sort of pincers and mount it on a pivoting armature and get it that way. Or you might try walking over there before taking it.
It's a tube of Preparation G, "The Wells-Fargo Wagon Driver's Friend for Over Half a Decade."
You pick up a tube of Preparation G, in the handy 25 oz. "Crabby Elephant" size.
You can't reach the Preparation G from back here.
Excuse me, Sadie, I've got to run out for a bit. Hang on, I'll be right back.
Okay, Freddy, but hurry back.
Penelope, I have to run out for just a minute or two. You'll wait for me, won't you?
Forever, Frederick! But do hurry back, won't you?
Helen, I've got to run out for a minute. I'll be right back, okay?
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps I'll be here when you return. Perhaps I'll take my business to another pharmacy. We'll just have to find out, won't we?
I'll be back in a minute, Smithie. Hang in there.
You dang well better be, Pharkas! These piles is killin' me, dammit! I'm fixin' to nail someone to a wall unless I gets some RELIEF!
Mind the store, won't you, Srini? I'm off to uphold justice and stuff.
Okee the dokee!
A short while later...
Srini! Who let you in?
Your most gracious Native American, Running Gag, permitted me egress from the outside of the street. It was then that I allowed him to knock himself off for the remainder of the day, since we are still closed.
That's fine, Srini. Look, I've reached a decision. My life is in danger. Hell, the whole town's in danger! I must take up gunslinging, and I'll need your help.
Pardon this for being said, Freddy Pharkas, but you are a humble Pharmacist.  Shooting as perfectionally as a gunslinger is a skill requiring most years of tireless practice. You are ill-equipped. Perhaps you should make peace with your chosen deity and prepare to go to the great Pharmacy Counter in the sky.
Srini, you'll have to trust me on this. I used to be a gunslinger before I took up Pharmacology. If I did it before, I can do it again. It shouldn't take long to brush up my skills. I've just gotta find my guns, and do a little practice shootin'.
Very well, Freddy Pharkas. When you are prepared, meet me at the edge of town and together we shall practice what little must be left of your shooting skills, yes.
You were just informed that your prescription-fillin' work was SHODDY.  You're not going to hand back the same bad prescription, are you? No, you're not.
I'm back, Sadie. Sorry for the delay, I just had to check a few things out.
Perfectly okay, Freddy, hon. I was just admiring the way you display your goods!
Look who's talking!
I'm back, Penelope!
I'm glad, Frederick. I was concerned. Is everything all right?
Everything's fine, now that we're together again.
(Blecch! Acccck! Horrrrk!)
Sorry, I just had an errand to run.
It's about time. Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick. For all I knew, you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
(Geez, no wonder they call her "Mom!")
Hiya, Smithie! I'm back! Everything okay? 
No, everything's NOT okay, Freddy! M'tushie feels like I sat on a branding iron! Gimmee my Preparation G! I |c2|need|c| my Preparation G, Pharkas!
Okay, okay!
You return!
Yep.
It is good to look upon your eternally smiling countenance of face again!
Yeah, yeah, I missed you, too.
That Srini! What a guy! He's made a grand and yet peculiarly inviting display of "Ol' Gampy's Fisherman Throat Gullet Descaler Lozenges." He must have heard about that promotional contest being run by the American Society of Salves, Holistic Ointments, Liniments and Emollients Salesmen. (Think about it.)
Don't touch Srini's handiwork! You never know when one of the roving judges will stop by and check out the display!
Groovy!
(GHOULISH VOICE) I'll swallow your soul!
=== 610.msg ===
This is the cozy little back room of your pharmacy, where you do your heavy thinking. In other words, you don't spend much time here!
You open your mouth to say something to it, but words fail you.
The pharmacy is falling apart as it is; don't pick at it, you'll just make it worse.
That's your laboratory, where you concoct and bottle your formulas.
These stairs lead up to your tiny bedroom.
It's a lamp. And a bodaciously ugly one, at that!
The lamp doesn't work. You make a mental note to change the filament. The last piece of cotton thread you used in the bulb only lasted about 45 minutes.
Some buxom lady's portrait. Notice how the painting seems to follow you around the room? And I don't mean her eyes!
Don't move it, it's covering up the remains of a failed experiment in which you tried to cure the common cold by building up a resistance to mucus.
It's a picture of some nearby big rock.
Don't move it, it's covering up the remains of a failed experiment in which you attempted to apply a tourniquet to a sucking chest wound.
Your reference book shelf, complete with such top-ten medical reading as:
The only book you'll need to finish this game is the Home Medical guide that came packed in the box. Oh, and perhaps a good 10-volume encyclopedia of Western folklore, if you happen to have one.
It's your hand-hooked rug. One of Madame's hookers handed it to you!
You peek underneath the rug, but other than a trap door, you see nothing at all. You wisely decide to avoid investigating it until another day. Waitaminnit, a TRAP DOOR? Oh, that's just the way the floorboards are laid. Never mind, there's no trap door there.
You keep a pitcher of water in a basin, so you can occasionally wash your face.
But you just washed your face last February!
Why, it's your old roll-top desk. What happened to that roll you recently left on top of it? You've must've eaten it!
You keep your anatomical models in here. But don't worry, you're not the only one in town with a few skeletons in your closet!
You haven't been able to open this closet since you tested your new formula, Loony Glue, on it several years ago.
This old table is left over from your college days.
Leave that table along until FREDDY PHARKAS, INFERIOR DECORATOR.
This chair was left here by the previous owner of the pharmacy, Franklin Pharquat.
You rarely use it. It's uncomfortable, unstable, and unattractive.
It's an old letter, cobwebbed, yellowed and faded.
You take the letter out of the drawer.
...so I've been thinking about hiring an assistant to help me around the store, clean up, y'know, the usual chores. Think you'd be interested?
Oh, I would be highly gratuitous of your bending over to display me such a position! Would you be offering as well a form of payment?
I'll pay ya 10 cents a day and all the Rustler's Stove chocolates you kin eat.
That is an agreement!
Excellent, uh... um... what was your name again?
Srini Lalkaka Bagdnish, but you may call me Srini and I will be calling you Freddy, hokay? 
Hokay. Now let's get cracking, Srini! I'd like you to go out there and create some nice displays for the skin lotions. We may be closed temporarily, but we'll be opening up sooner or later, and we've GOT to be ready!
What it is, Freddy! I will be getting on that now!
Your desktop is closed and locked, just the way you normally keep it.
The desktop's locked. Damn this crude desktop interface!
That's the wrong key for the roll-top desk.
You can't lock or unlock the desk with THAT key!
You lock the desktop. You never know who's gonna sneak in here and try to get their hands in your drawers.
You unlock the desktop.
Been out in the sun too long? You can't lock the desk until you close it.
That key doesn't work in the desk.
It's an interesting drawer. You wonder if it's made any famous sketches!
As some of the ladies down at Madame's have told you: there isn't anything in those drawers worth looking at!
The drawer's locked.
You lock the drawer.
You unlock the desk drawer.
Funny thing about drawers. You can't lock them when they're wide open.
=== 620.msg ===
Bismuth Enterosalicyline
Potassium Cupri-tartate
Phenolsulphonphthalein
Furachlordone
You study Penelope's prescription and prepare to carefully fill it. You wouldn't want to make a mistake with HER medicine.
You study Helen Back's prescription and prepare to carefully fill it.
As you study Madame Ovaree's prescription, you realize you cannot read it. The writing looks so blurry.
You were so clever to use Doc's whisky glass to read Madame Ovaree's prescription. Now you prepare to carefully fill it.
You study Doc's corrections to Madame Ovaree's prescription and prepare to carefully fill it.
Burner
Waste Receptacle
Yucch! There's all sorts of discarded chemicals down there.
You drop the contents down the waste receptacle.
Don't throw that away!
You toss it into the waste receptacle.
Pepticlymacine Tetrazole
Bismuth Subsalicylate
Mercuric Chloride
Orphenamethihydride
Tyloxpolynide
Nitrabylocynine
Medicine Bottles
Magnesium Sulfate
Prescription Box
You only need one prescription box at a time.
The prescription box is for finished prescriptions only, not for mixing ingredients.
You can't mix items in the prescription box. It's for finished powders only.
You can't mix powders in with what is already in the prescription box.
Phenodol Oxytriglychlorate
Bimethylquinoline
Enteromagneline
Sodium Bicarbonate
Corks
Medicinal Papers
Matches
Mortar & Pestle
You carefully label the container "Miss Penelope Primm -- for internal use only." And what internals they are! You dream about them day and night!
You carefully label the container "Mrs. Helen Back -- take three times daily, just before meals."
You carefully label the container "Madame Ovaree."
Well, that was a fun experiment, but it's not going to help you out of your present mess! You throw it all away as you leave your lab table.
You carefully label the jar, "Aminophyllic Citrate." Congratulations.  You've just created your first batch of "Pharkas' Deflatulizer♦."
You carefully label the bottle, "Bisalicylate Antitoxidene."  Congratulations. Be careful; this stuff is mighty concentrated.
Your fruitless experimentation completed, you exit your laboratory. Perhaps a chemical solution is uncalled for right now.
You attempt to make something that will cure the horses' flatulence. But until you find a way to "breathe easier," you won't be able to get near enough to those horses to use it! So you toss it away and decide to make a fresh batch after you've got some sort of gas mask.
Graduated Cylinder
The graduated cylinder is full.
You must empty the graduated cylinder before using it to measure something else.
The graduated cylinder should only be used for measuring liquids.
Solids must either be weighed or scooped with a measuring spoon.
This bottle of Tyloxpolynide is empty! You never seem to have enough.
This is where you concoct all your potions, pills, powders. It's here that you truly earn the right to call yourself "Freddy Pharkas, Frontier Pharmacist."
Alcohol lamp
The alcohol lamp feels cool to the touch.
You quickly lick your fingers and pinch out the alcohol lamp's flame.
You fill the alcohol lamp with Dad Gumm's alcoholic elixir.
You can't heat the medallion directly. You'd burn your hands.
The silver medallion slowly begins to melt.
The medallion is nearly completely melted now.
You now have a crucible containing molten silver.
The medallion looks nice beside the cold alcohol lamp.
Excellent idea, but wait until you have somewhere to put the molten silver!
Allowing only a slight portion of your sample to escape near the alcohol lamp, you notice it turns the flame an unusual color.
Whew! What an aroma! You'd better do something about it before everyone leaves town.
The wax in the mold slowly starts to melt.
The melted wax runs out of the mold and spatters on the work table, resulting in an empty ear-shaped mold! (And a table with a severe case of "waxy build-up!")
Nothing much happens since the lamp isn't lit.
Measure your chemical and place it into a mixing device first, then heat it here.
The chemical warms slowly over the alcohol lamp.
Now it's getting pretty hot. Good thing your callouses are thick!
The chemical rapidly reaches a full, rolling boil.
The mortar and pestle is not to be used for heating chemicals.
There's no need to heat up the mixing device if there's nothing inside it. In other words, no preheating necessary!
The lamp is already lit.
The alcohol lamp is empty. You must first fill it with fuel before you can light it.
The alcohol lamp must be burning before you can use the gaseous spectroscope on it.
There is nothing inside the crucible to melt.
First, light the alcohol lamp, otherwise you'll wait here a long time for that silver to melt!
Enough already with the melting silver! It's melted, it's melted!
Pill machine
The pill machine is empty. You must first place a mixture into the machine before attempting to make pills.
You can place the pills into a medicine bottle by clicking the bottle on the pills.
To make pills, you need a |c0|mixture|c| which contains at least one solid.
You must have at least one solid ingredient in a mixture to make pills. It'll be years before "gelcaps" are invented.
You should use up the current batch of mixture in the pill machine before adding some more.
Different types of pills shouldn't be mixed in the same container!
The pill machine's empty, so there aren't any pills to collect. You must first put a mixture into the pill machine.
You can't mix pills in with what's already in this container.
Test tube
Water
Medicinal Paper
The medicinal papers can only hold 5 grams.
Cork
Sorbitalic Acid
Reserpicline Oxide
Calcium Carbonate
Metyraphosphate
Stirring Rods
Putting the stirring rod on the table will contaminate it. Just use it to stir chemicals in the beaker, then discard it.
Beaker
It is advisable to measure your ingredients instead of just dumping them together.
The mortar & pestle is for grinding solids only.
Click the mixture on the container, not vice versa.
Only place one chemical at a time into the mixing device. Thank you!
This container is for your finished product, not for mixing. Do your mixing in the proper device.
The medicine containers are for finished medications only. Once you've placed something in a container, you must discard it before starting over. Mix chemicals in a mixing device only.
There's no reason to cork an empty bottle!
You knock them together, but otherwise accomplish nothing.
Balance
Your finger weighs as much as it did yesterday.
You must first place the balance pan on the balance.
You don't need to weigh that mixture.
You can't mix chemicals in the balance. Weigh one item at a time.
5 gm. Measuring Spatula
The spatula is already full of something. Empty it into an appropriate container before you do anything else with it.
The spatula isn't suitable for measuring liquids.
Click the spatula on the mixing device, not vice versa.
Stirring Rod
Your work area is a little dusty, but it's more than clean enough to continue your work.
Click the chemical on the mixing device, not vice versa.
Place the chemical into the container, not vice versa.
There's no need to measure it now, it's already mixed.
Click the measuring device on the container, not vice versa.
Prescription Boxes
Medicine Bottle
You only need to work with one medicine bottle at a time. Dump the contents if you need to start over.
Balance pan
The balance pan is only for measuring unmixed chemicals.
You can't mix chemicals in the balance pan.
Disgusted at your inability to prepare the proper concoction, you discard your attempt in the waste receptacle and leave your laboratory.
Gaseous Spectroscope
Good idea, Freddy. The spectrum lines on that etched glass viewer reveal volumes to those who know how to read.
The gaseous spectroscope doesn't work unless the alcohol lamp is lit and the spectroscope has been placed in front of the lamp.
Crucible
The crucible is only for melting pure, or nearly pure, metals.
Before leaving your lab, you remove the medallion from the crucible.
You've got a crucible of molten silver! You shouldn't leave the lab until you figure out something to do with it.
You quickly pour the molten silver into the empty mold.
=== 630.msg ===
You can't sleep. You're too restless. Maybe because it's broad daylight.
You'll never get back to sleep now. There's trouble afoot, and that gnaws at your gut. Or maybe it's that whole pouch of "Gummy Buffalo" you had just before you went to sleep!
It's your Seamy Pasturepedic 100% rawhide-filled mattress. You bumped into it at a sidewalk sale. And fractured your shin. They let you take it home, which was cheaper than paying to have your leg fixed.
You don't really need those grooming aids, you're a Western-style hero. Your hair is always in place and your gums are always sparkling pink.
Your grooming aids:
This is no time to sit and read books. You're in the middle of a stirring saga of the Old West!
A lovely old glass-fronted bookcase, containing some of your favorite leisure-time reading material:
Now let's see. Where wuz I? Oh, that's right. Madame Ovaree begged and pleaded with Freddy to either leave town or take up his ol' gunslingin' ways, sumpthin' which Freddy was just a mite reluctant to consider. So they decided to sleep on it, and though they didn't get much sleep, Freddy did mull it over somewhat.
Penelope... Coarsegold... Madame Ovaree...
<cough cough>
It's been so long since you moved this chair, it seems to have become one with the floor. How zen!
You ran across this desk chair outside the General Store. In so doing, you tripped and knocked out two teeth. You threatened to sue the owner, but he placated you by giving you this fine chair to keep.
You pick up the claim check, your hand trembling with the memory of the last time you wore the boots that you traded for it... that monster, Kenny the Kid, looking down at you and laughing as your ear bled in the hot sun...
It's a claim check... for a pair of boots! Your old cowboy boots from... the Before Time? Before "The Accident?" Could it be?? That's what you get for not opening this drawer for the past decade.
This side of the armoire doesn't open. It must've been built by the same yahoo that built the outhouse by ReBoot Hill!
You picked up this old armoire at the farmer's market. It gave you a hernia. So instead of paying the doctor's bills, the owner let you keep it.
Look, your closet full of pharmacist duds.
The armoire door is wide open, displaying your outfits for all the world to see and admire.
The drawer at the base of your armoire is empty, except for a few stray black widows.
It's the open drawer of your armoire, currently exceedingly empty and devoid of stuff.
You take your old gunslinger clothes and your "Good Guy Model" Stetson hat.
Your old hat and gunslinging outfit! And ... mmmm! ... it smells of camphor!
You take the key.
Hot dawg, now we're gettin' somewhere.
It's a key! Hot dawg, now we're gettin' somewhere.
The dresser is artistically placed as it is. No need to move it.
You stumbled onto this big ol' dresser at a moving sale. And broke your toe. So rather than pay to have your toe fixed, the owner let you keep the dresser. In fact, you get ALL your furniture by accident!
You'll hafta close the dresser drawer before you can do that. Damn these one-bedroom apartments.
The drawer is empty, save for a few cobwebs, dust balls, and dead gnats. If you had some socks and underwear in there, they'd need washing pretty badly.
There you are, Freddy Pharkas, you are mostly indeed a picture of stately mysterious strangerness. Nobody will be positive to recognize you any now.
Thanks for your help, Srini. Coarsegold owes you a debt of gratitude it can never repay. If anyone asks, Freddy Pharkas has left town. And if I don't come out of this alive, the Pharmacy is yours.
That is of a true generous nature you are displaying, Freddy Pharkas. As for me, I would like to open a pharmacy on the reservation among my people. But whether that is fated to be or not is in the hands of someone who is not I. Luck be with you, Freddy Pharkas. I am proud now.
With your boots, your clothes, your guns cleaned and loaded, your silver ear, and your lucky neckerchief, you're ready to get dressed and assume your identity as the Gunslingin' Stranger. You return to your penthouse suite, high atop the glittering Pharkas Pharmacy in Beautiful Downtown Coarsegold.
It's a reading lamp. Don't bother it while it's reading.
While browsing at a second-hand store, you were struck by this particularly sturdy reading lamp. The result was a mild concussion. The guy who'd accidentally dropped it out of the second-story window was very apologetic, and rather than pay for the skull surgery, offered to let you take the lamp home with you.
There's nothing under there but more moose.
Your authentic moose-skin rug looks very attractive with those eyeglasses on it! It would've been a mite less lumpy if somebody'd remembered to skin the moose first.
There's nothing left in the drawer you can use.
You've got nowhere to take it.
While window-shopping in Chowchilla, your eye fell on this plain but serviceable nightstand. They got your eye back in, but the owner didn't want to touch the nightstand anymore. He let you keep it.
Don't move it, it's covering up the results of a failed experiment involving Madame Ovaree, a dog, a melon and a Tibetan hanging basket.
A small picture of your Mother, rest her soul. If only she could have lived to see you now: an ex-gunslinging pharmacist in Coarsegold, California. She'd have had a heart attack and died.
Sturdy timbers. Solid construction. Indoor plumbing. Any of those would be an improvement!
This is your cozy li'l bedroom.
I wonder how this would look if I added a little paneling?
You usually try to avoid talking to your surroundings.
FIRE! FIRE! Freddy Pharkas, please come urgently!
Whu... what's wrong, Srini?
A tragedy is becoming!! The Assay Office is aflame! She is burning with a might most severe! The Pharmacy may be next alighted! Get dressed as soon as possible!
I am dressed. I don't own pajamas.
Take mine! No, wait, there is not time to perform such an effort. Just hurry and scheme in such a way so as to extinguish the most threatening fire!
You can only take the stairs up or down. You can't take them anywhere else.
The stairs lead down to your back office.
Careful, that trunk is DANGEROUS! And you've got the scars to prove it.
Your Dad unloaded his old vaudeville trunk on you. Not on purpose, though; he didn't know you were standing underneath when he unloaded it off the top of the stagecoach. Ever since then, you've had brief blackouts. But what the hey? Free trunk, right?
You need to close the armoire first. What do you think this is, the Embassy Suites?
There is nothing more in your trunk.
=== 640.msg ===
Salvatore O'Hanahan, town barber/dentist/bootblack, is hard at work on his customer, Eb Sorbeen, Jr. Salvatore also happens to be the only Irish-Italian in town!
Salvatore O'Hanahan is taking a moment to sing a few bars from "The Barber of Seville."
How's business, Sal? Seems like you always have a customer these days.
Notta so good, Freddy. My earnings are up, butta ma profits are down!
That's too bad, Sal. Do you have any ideas about how to increase business?
Well, ah do have one idea. I've been thinkin' 'bout providin' dirty reading material for ma customers ta read whilst they wait.
But your customers are illiterate!
Yup, an' they cain't read so good neither!
Howdy, Sal! How's things?
I canna complain, Freddy! I'm-a gettin' plenty business.
Did you notice that the Hotel's been shut down?
Yeah, I noticed that this-a morning! What's up with THAT? Who'sa-da genius who came up with THAT?
Well, if you hear anything about it, let me know, willya?
Hey, you got it, Freddy! Anna same to you! You hear anything, you letta me know! I be right here, uppa to my arms in this guy's head!
Sal...
Gimme a break, Freddy! I gotta customers. Don't you gotta customers?
Well, I suppose so.
Then do me a favor, hokay? You come-a back when you gotta news, hokay? I gotta make some headway onna this guy! Hey! I made a funny! "Gotta make some headway." Get it? Get it?
Got it.
Good!
Sal, all hell has broken loose.
What's-a da problem, Freddy, me lad?
The Sheriff shut down Smithie. Then he shut me down, too. Some crap about being a fire hazard.
Say it ain't so, Freddy!
'Fraid so, Sal. And if that weren't bad enough, the whole town's bein' gassed by flatulent horses. Someone must've poisoned the horse's feed.
Tell-a me about it! I been stuffin' hair in the door jamb, tryin' to keep the stench out! You gotta do sumpin', Freddy!
But... but I'm just a pharmacist!
Yes, and the horses, they just have gas, right? So do sumpin' about it!
OK! I'm thinking, I'm thinking!
You can breathe easier now, Sal. I took care of that problem with the horses. Turns out somebody put lentils in the feed! Ever hear of anything so dastardly?
Atsa devious alright, Freddy! But now whatta ya gonna do about that-a stampede headin' for town?
What am I gonna do about it? Why is it always ME?
Sure 'n yer the smart one, Freddy Pharkas... the one in control, the one we're all watchin' and countin' on. You're the protagonist here, the rest of us are just extras. Now go be a bonnie lad and STOP THAT STAMPEDE!
Sal! Great news! I derailed the snail stampede. Those snails are history.
Atsa my boy! Your mama mus' be so proud.
Now if I can just figure out WHAT'S going on in town... and how to get an Indian off an anthill!
Well, the former problem, she sounds like-a very tough problem. But the latter problem, she sounds pretty easy!
Congratulate me, Sal. I've got an assistant now!
So I hear! Now mebbe you can do somethin' about the town's water supply, eh?
One thing at a time! I'm on the case, okay?
Sal, I'm heading out of town for a while.
But you were doing such a good job, m'lad! Fixin' the water supply, puttin' out the fire... we need ye, Freddy!
I know, but now the Sheriff and the Banker are out to get me. It's not safe for me in town any more.
You wan' me to talk to 'em for you? Maybe Salvatore throws his weight around a li'l, eh?
No, no, no. It's not worth the trouble. I'll be back, Sal. And if I'm not... you take care.
'Ay, you take care, too, you a nize boy.
Hey, I put a fire out last night and saved the town. Proud of me?
Of course I'm proud of you!
Hey, Sal!
'Ey, that's Salvatore to you, stranger. What can I do for ye?
Oh... that's right... um... I was here for a teeth cleanin'.
Sorry, I gotta customer gettin' "The Works." That's gonna take all day.
Oh, no! He found an "All Day" sucker!
Don't go out on the street, now, Salvatore! There's a lot of shootin' and nastiness goin' on out there!
Thanks for the warnin', stranger! Much obliged!
(MUTTERING) |c1|'ey, hands off while I'm a-workin' onna this guy!|c|
Salvatore sings away, unmindful of your poking and prodding.
Ah, no thankee, lad. I had a wee bit of that stuff last night, anna whoo boy, I'm-a payin' today.
I don't know nuttin' about fillin' no prescriptions, Miz Scarl... I meanna, Freddy!
Not awhile I'm a-workin', Freddy! I wouldn't want to be operatin' heavy machinery like this chair while under the influence, now, would I?
Nice job, Freddy! I hope you gotta big points for that!
Yepper!
I wish I'd-a thoughta that.
Atsa nice offer, Freddy, butta my hemors aren't a-rhoiding.
I'm-a not drinkin' beer, it throws off my clippin'.
It's water, not beer.
Ho, you thinkin' I'm-a just born offa da boat? I can tell-a da difference between water anna beer. I just lookit the label!
You no needa my charity, Freddy. You doin' hokay.
Say, that thing, she's-a sharper than mosta my dental instruments! You wanna trade for ol' rusty drill?
Nah, I don't think so. Thanks for the offer, though.
Some nize chunks-a charcoal. You wouldn't be takin' 'em from the Blacksmith's forge, would ya now, laddie-a?
Smithie's gone, Sal. He hit the trail.
Oh, I'm-a sorry to see 'em go... him bein' such a fine broth of a smithie, too.
'Atsa nice strop! Good for sharpenin' blades! But I gotta whetstone, I no needa da strop. Thanks anyways!
I'm-a not needin' that gas mask, laddie, as long as I'm-a stayin' inside!
Don't be givin' it to me, lad. I'm-a not have any problems inna da lower regions!
I don't needa da snails. I'm-a da vegetarian.
'Atsa not necessary, Freddy. You don't owe me any money! You haven't been in for a haircut or tooth job for months!
No-tanka you, Freddy, lad! You gotta Chianti?
Nope... sorry.
Too bad. 'Ow about a wee bit o' whisky, then?
Sorry, none of the hard stuff.
Atsa always the way, eh? Same all over.
Sorry, this-a week I only accept aluminum.
Sure 'n that key notta belongin' to me!
What, you wanna climb uppa me? Wanna see the toppa my head? Wotsa big deal?
Some hanka rope you're havin' there, laddie.
I was going to tie you up.
Ah, couldn't be lettin' ye do that, now. Nope, nope.
'Ay, I'm-a notta herd o' cattle! You should be usin' that lasso somewheres else, lad.
I'm-a no needin' that, Freddy! I'm-a sterilizin' my water wi' whisky!
'Ay, now, we traded fair 'n square! I love-a doze French Postcards, I'm-a keepin' 'em! You keep-a da laughing gas! Feh!
Some pile o' baking soda you've got there, lad! Atsa real nize!
You hand Salvatore your French Postcards.
Your customers may not be able to read, Salvatore, but I bet they would enjoy looking at pictures!
No, they're not interested in... WAIT A MINUTE! What in the hell are those girls doing?!
I'm not sure, but I don't think it's legal on this side of the Sierra Nevada!
Well now, your exceptional generosity's gotta be reciprocated! Could I be interestin' you in a free shave?
No, thank you, Sal.
Then, how about a free wisdom tooth extraction?
Oh, mine are already out. Had 'em pulled in the dental department while I was in college. Needed the extra money for tuition.
Well, then, lemme see... watta I got in here that'd be a suitable swap?
Why, thank you, Salvatore. Perhaps I can use this in some of my experiments.
This-a no moustache wax! I dinna ken what kinda wax it is, either!
Nize-a switchblade! Now be a good laddie and put that thing away.
You aim the pistol at Salvatore.
'Ay, what am I ever done to YOU, eh? I gotta wife anna kids at home! I'm-a hardworkin' shlub! I gotta no money! I was a-gonna retire soon, watch-a my kids grow up and move away, watch-a my wife growin' old and wrinkled and crabby. I was a-plannin' to die atta home, a poor anna broken man.
You're right. I can't do it. I won't do it.
You holster your pistol.
No, waitta momento... come-a to think on it, maybe it would be quicker anna more painless this way. C'mon, shoota me.
No, no, you were right the first time. Just forget it.
Somma friend!
Mmm, atta pie, she's-a looking sum good!
Wanna trade for something?
No thanks! I'm-a tryin' to watch-a my weight!
I'm-a not thirsty. Already hadda twenty cupsa coffee today, and ho boy, I'm-a bit shaky already!
Sure 'n begorrah, atsa' the Sheriff's gun cleaning-a kit!
Hey, you-a no gunslinger! What you do with-a those?
I thought I'd brush up on my shooting a bit... just in case.
Well, laddie, be careful now! Don't be putting' yer eye out! I hardly know ye!
I doan needa that, I'm-a no takin' any dental impressions today. But sure'n you're a nice lad for thinkin' of me.
'Ay, you gotta prize! Bueno! 'ere's to yer!
Them's a funny-shaped silver bullets you forgin' there!
'Ay, 'atsa nize silver ear you gotta there!
Wottsa matta you? I'm-a look like a tailor to you? Faith 'n Begorrah, if I've been-a tellin' ya once, I've been-a tellin' you over anna over, I'm-a Dentist, Barber, Shoeshine, an' a Cobbler. I ain't no tailor!
Sal, do you still have that pair of boots I dropped off for a shine? I know it's been about six years now, but I just remembered I left them here!
Hmmm. Let me see... what's the number on this claim check? Lemme look under the counter here... Yep! Still here. Have 'em ready for ya next Tuesday!
Never mind. I'll just take them as is.
Hey, don't worry 'bout the storage charges, okay?
You keep 'em! I no gotta anymore beige-anna-turquoise shoe polish!
Atsa swell hankie you got there!
It's not a hanky, it's a neckerchief.
If you say so, Freddy! Looksa-like a hankie to me! But hey, I'm-a no cowboy! I'm-a justa simple country barber/dentist/bootblack!
'Ey, dis is a letter from-a Philip Graves! So? Ain't none-a my beeswax!
I don't needa da shovel. I'm-a not diggin' anything.
Woo boy, atsa' some stinkin' bagga sumpthin'!
What, you wanna bag o' hair clippings? Sorry, 'at'd be violatin' the right to privacy o' me customers!
I understand.
I wouldn't be wavin' that thing around if'n I were you, Freddy. It's notta gonna earn you no friends!
Hey! Like my silver-filled mold?
'Atsa-nize silver-filled mold, laddie. You musta be some-a hero!
Not yet, but I'm workin' on it.
Hey! That's-a wax ear inna clay! Pretty impressive!
That mold, she's-a empty! What you gonna fill that with, Freddy?
If I knew what to fill it with, would I be here now?
Haha! Atsa' good one. I'm-a smilin' now.
Nice-a sculpture! Wotta you call it?
Um... I call it "Earwax Revisited."
Hunh. Well, I dunno nothin' about art, but I know what I like, anna I like your big lumpa earwax, whatever she's-a called.
'Ay, I'm as healthy as-a da horse! Maybe two-a horses! I dinna need any medicinations!
It's a shaving bowl and brush.
You thinkin' a growin' a beard?
No, I just wanted to see what I can do with this.
You can put it down, it's-a not yours.
Although that comb storage jar is labeled "Disinfectant" you know for a fact that Louis Pasteur's recent research has proven that colored water will disinfect nothing!
Hey, now, 'atsa my colorful comb water! Doan' be takin' it, I'll have-a to buy some-morea food coloring.
The label reads, "Dullcryme, A Big Dab'll Do Ya!"
Please keepa you hands off! I've only gotta two dabs left inna there.
This bottle is labeled "22 per cent alcohol by weight." 
'Atsa my private stash of butterscotch schnapps. You wanna snort?
No thank you, Salvatore, I'm a sarsaparilla man m'self.
You are certainly happy it's not winter now. When Sal cranks up the heat in this baby, you can smell the memories of hundreds of miners, many of whom are now long dead... or at least smell that way!
It's cold. Funny how rarely Salvatore cranks up the heat in this 110-degree weather.
Back in the old days, when Coarsegold was a bustling Gold Rush city packed with men returning from panning the mountain streams or heading for mountain claims, Sal often filled that bench with hirsute miners.
Hey now, that's for the comfort of Salvatore's clients.
Sal didn't really want a buffalo head mounted on his wall, but when it ran through the back of the building, he decided to just leave it.
Hello, you majestic creature of the North American Plains!
Flattery will get you nowhere with that beast.
Nice buffalo! Nice buffalo!
(Did he say "buffalo" or "Buff Al Lowe?")
Once this lamp burned whale oil, but you know how hard it is to find whales around here?
This thing wouldn't work if you pumped 50,000 volts into it. Kinda like the Banker, the Sheriff, and most of the other folks in town!
You're glad this pitcher is only used for storing water for hand washing. If you are thirsty, you'd be better off drinking from the horse troughs outside than trusting your life to this mess.
You tryin' to take-a my pitcher? No tenk-a-you, I'm-a camera shy!
This is Salvatore's adjustable barber chair. Somebody ripped off the hand restraints during a tooth extraction.
You're not here for a trim.
Upon close inspection, you realize Sal's counter is filled with little, teeny-tiny hairs... as is everything else in this place, including Sal!
You wanna some teeny-tiny little hairs? Sure, help-a-youself!
You actually decide you have no use for teeny-tiny hairs.
You see nothing in Sal's barbershop that you would consider useful.
There's nothing on the shelf worth steal... er, borrowing.
This combination barbershop and dental emporium is under the exclusive proprietorship of Salvatore O'Hanahan, Coarsegold's only Italian/Irish barber.
The words just aren't flowing freely, so you decide to shut up.
Please quit pokin' anna proddin' everything. You make-a me nervous.
Sal has a back door in case angry customers queue up out front to file lead complaints about their haircuts!
This barbershop and dental emporium is under the exclusive proprietorship of Salvatore O'Hanahan, Coarsegold's only Italian/Irish barber.
Doan you smudge-a my window!
This cabinet contains boring tonsorial equipment.
'ey, leave-a my boring tonsorial equipment alone!
You wouldn't care to give this place a "white glove" inspection... unless you wanted black gloves!
You poke through the bottles to see what's what. Hmmm... preshave, aftershave, duringshave, notgonnashave, nevershave, wannashave and tooyoungtoshave. Remember what Al Lowe says: "shave early, shave often!"
Sal used to keep this shelf filled with toiletries... until he found out there were no toilets in town!
There's nothing there except a few tonics 'n stuff that you sold Salvatore.
You catch a quick peek of yourself in the mirror and hope that no one noticed.
That's quite a mirror, Sal!
That'sa right. There ain' ah nobody believes justa how mucha costs to ship around de Isthmus!
Salvatore O'Hanahan has spared no expense installing a large expensive mirror for the convenience of his customers.
Those old boots look vaguely familiar.
Better not, they might belong to somebody.
Those are the naughty French postcards you gave to Salvatore!
Hey, no Indian giving!
That canister is labelled NO2.
But it hasn't been offered to you! What is this attitude where you're trying to take everything that isn't nailed down? You can't get away with that, you know... especially not in the Old West.
It's Salvatore O'Hanahan, looking very odd. That's it, he looks BACKWARDS. His part is on the wrong side and his facial features are reversed. You hope this "mirror" thing hasn't captured Salvatore's soul or anything.
Hey, Salvatore's reflection, how goes it?
?ot gniklat uoy er'ohw ,yeH
You! I mean... no, never mind.
It's only an image on glass. You can't take it, touch it, or even show it tender loving care.
Fletcher Castoria, the town plumber, sits here patiently, waiting for his turn in the chair. He's got nothing else to do, since nobody in Coarsegold has plumbing!
Hey, Fletcher, how's the plumbing business?
He doesn't respond. Apparently he's too engrossed in reading the latest copy of the Skoocherdownan Examiner!
Please don't poke the plumber!
=== 650.msg ===
It's Whittlin' Willy. He's been here ever since you got to Coarsegold, and he hasn't aged a day. He's always been about 140 years old. He spins a mean yarn, and somehow he always seems to know what people did even when he wasn't in the room.
It's m'secret powers, kid. I got X-ray vision and super hearing. 'Kay? Now scram.
Hiya, Whittlin' Willy! How's the Whittlin' going?
Hiya, sonny! Just splendidly, thanks! I'm workin' on a ol' dead beached whale. 'Sgonna be m'best work to date.
Will it be for sale?
Will it be for sale? NO, it AIN'T gonna be fer sale! I'm an ARTISTE, dag nab it! 'Sides, iffn I hang onter it fer awhilst, mebbe it'll be worth sumpthin' someday. Now scram.
Hey there, Willy!
That's WHITTLIN' Willy to you, son. Respeck yer olders.
Sorry.
Fergit about it. Jus' get outta here, I'm whittlin'.
Whittlin' Willy!
Thunderation, boy! Ain't you got nothin' better ta do than interrupt me when I'm whittlin'?
Geez, sorry! It's just that you're a colorful old character, and I enjoy hearing tall tales and Western folklore from your oral traditions.
Yew jus' keep my oral traditions outta this, son. Don't you gotta pharmacy to run? Ain't you got customers to wait on?
I guess so...
Then git along! Move 'em on! Head 'em up! Cut 'em out! Tie 'em in! Ride 'em in! Turn 'em in! Cut 'em out!
Okay, okay.
Willy, you know what's going on out there?
How could I MISS it, son? Whillikers, you step out there and it's like bein' smacked with a sack o'... welp, guess I don't hafta tell YOU, I smelt you comin' in!
We gotta do something about it!
I'm doin' my part, sonny. I'm whittlin' m'will.
That's not good enough!
Hey, yer the pharmacist 'round here. We ain't got no veteran aryan. Them horses're obviously havin' some sorta lower gastro-intestinal discomforture, so diagnose 'em, dammit, and give 'em sumpthin' to make 'em better! Now leave me be.
Willy, you heard about the snail stampede?
Yepper.
Ever hear of anything like this happening?
Nope, never.
Well, what am I supposed to do about it?
Hey, boy, I'm jus' an ol' whittler, settin' around watching events unfold and commentin' with m'folksy, old-timey attitude... y'know, kinda cranky, but with a sense of humor, too.
Can't you give me some advice?
Welp, that ain't m' speciality, but I'll tell ya this: them snails ain't much different from your ordinary garden slugs. They prob'ly likes the same things. So jes' keep that in mind when dealin' with 'em.
Thanks!
Yer welcome. Now get outta here, 'n go git some beer.
Well, I got rid of those snails! Aren't you proud of me?
Yeah, yeah. Only it's gonna get a lot worse, I'm tellin' ya!
How do you know?
Who's tellin' this story, you or me?
Well, you, I guess...
Then I guess I know whut I'm talkin' about, don't I? Now git on out to the desert and git that guy offa the anthill 'afore I pick you up and carry you there!
Alright, alright!
Willy, I got myself an assistant down at the Pharmacy.
What'n the sam hill you need an assistant fer, kid? The Sheriff done closed your butt down!
Well, I've been so busy helping people and stuff, and I was hoping to reopen the store soon, so I thought...
You thought, eh? Well, THAT'S a first! Anyhows, that assistant might come in handy eventually. But fer the time being, head on out to the outhouse and figger out whut's goin' ON out there! Seems like half the town's got the big-time runs!
The what?
I sez, |c2|GIT|c|!!
Hey, Willy!
Leave me alone, I'm crabby.
So what else is new? Listen, I'm gonna be leaving town for a while.
Yeah, right.
No, I am!
Yew are not. Yer gonna practice yer gunslingin', then yer gonna dredge up that mucky ol' past of yours and go back to bein' a bigshot hero.
How do you know?
Hey, half the Western Heros in America done the same thang. Good luck to ya. See ya in the dime novels. Now get a move on.
Hiya, Whittlin' Willy!
How'd the gunslingin' go?
Great! I'm getting ready to leave town now.
Drop the "leavin' town" bit, sonny. I know whut you're up to. This is my story, 'member?
Oh, yeah.
Now finish puttin' that disguise together and git to it, so's we kin git this town cleaned up once 'n fer all!
Hey, you don't have to tell me twice!
Don't be jostlin' my arm, son. You'll mess up my whittlin'!
Sorry, son, that stuff's too strong fer me! But y'know, some moonshine'd go down real good right now!
It's empty!
Yeah.
Welp, bring it back when it's full, and we'll get stinkin'!
Hey! Smart thinkin', sonny! Didja get big points fer that?
Pretty good, yeah.
Well, all right then! Good goin'! Yew'll be a hero yet!
That stuff don't do me any good. M'hemorrhoids're too far gone for that pap. Little bit o' horse glue, though, an' I'm back in the saddle agin!
I don't drink beer!
This isn't beer, it's water.
Yew bin drinkin' the wrong beer, then. Yuh need a beer with the flavor that stays with yuh, beer after beer.
Hey, I may LOOK like an old goat, but I don't eat like one!
I cain't carve nuthin' with THAT! It ain't got a blade! 'Spoze I could poke holes in sumpthin' with it, but I don't really need to.
That's whut ya calls yer charcoal, boy. Whut of it?
I'm not sure why I've got it.
So what else is new, boy! You bin walkin' around, pickin' up everthing that ain't nailed down! You'll find a use for it eventually, I'm sure.
Don't whup me, boy! Don't whup me!
No thanks, I hate eatin' charcoal outta a feed bag.
It's a gas mask, not a feed bag.
Well, whutever it is, I don't need to be strappin' it on like some danged fool. You go ahead. It suits you better.
I don't need any of that pharmacy crap. I've got the constitution of an oxe. <wheeze> <hack> <cough>
Escargot sushi!
What what?
Never mind, kid. You'll learn whut it means in another 100 years or so. Now skedaddle!
You don't owe me nothin'. Take it away afore I change m'mind.
I dasn't drink beer, young 'un! How d'yall think I got to be this age?
I don't know, sir.
Well, it warn't by drinkin' that St. Louie pisswater. Make mine rotgut, every time!
They're empty, son!
I know!
Well, whut'd you want me to do with 'em? Pee in 'em?
Maybe.
Well, I went awhile ago. Thanks anyway!
That ain't MY key, son! Yew just hang onto it.
Nice piece o' lumber, kiddo. You wanted some stuff whittled into it? Take a number, I gotta finish this piece of scrimshaw.
Y'all got a hank of rope there!  Yew bin garbage-pickin' down at Smithie's old place?
Yep!
Glad to hear it. Now git.
Gotcherself a nice-lookin' lasso there. You tie it?
Yep!
Hmm. I'm gonna keep m'eye on you. You got the makin's of a real Western hero. Someday they'll be tellin' stories about you, mark my words. Now vamoose.
Whut do you think I am, stupid or sumpin'? I try and whittle that, I'll puncture it, and you'll get laughin' gas for blocks around! We'd all die laughin'! Not that it'd be a bad way to go, but hell, son, I got plans! There's tales to tell and wood t' whittle! Get outta here now.
I sees ya got... whut, about a hunnerd sack?... of bakin' soda there, sonny.
Yep, and it's feeling a little heavy, too.
Shucks, son. I remembers when I wuz just a sprite in my mama's apple, I used to have to carry FIVE HUNNERD sack o' baking soda to school and back, ever' day, twenny-five miles in each direction. Yer jus' SPOILT, sonny, thet's what's wrong witcha! Now get back to whuch yer doin', and leave me to my whittlin'.
I don't look at no nekkid pitchers of wimmenfolk. But hey, ya got any pitchers of sheep? Bring 'em on by! Now git outta here.
Nice bit o' wax ya gots there, sonny! Good fer lost-wax castin'! That reminds me, I wuz gonna finish whittlin' that pair o' skis. Welp, I'll get to it tomorrow.
You aim the gun at Willy... and pull the trigger!
HAH! My skin's tough as nails, kid. Like old rawhide. Bullets cain't stop me.
That shore does smell good, kid! Wouldn't mind whittlin' myself a slice o' that. Gives me the craps, though, so get it away from me.
I don't drink thet stuff. Eats m'gullet out. Gives me ulcers. But you run across some Everclear, I'm right there besides ya.
Keepin' yer pistols polished, son. Thet's what it's all about.
Hey, them's some nice, shiny new bullets ya got! Won't do ya much good settin' in yer sweaty palm, though. Load 'em or lose 'em, kid!
That there's clay! You lookin' to do some lost-wax castin'?
Some what?
Never mind, it'd take too long to explain to ya.
That's a fine bit o' silver, kiddo, the kinda thing you could molten' down and use fer lost-wax castin', if you were a mind to! Thet reminds me, gotter get to Sal's one of these days to have muh false teeth re-silvered.
Nice duds ya got there, whippersnapper! Beige 'n turquoise. Reminds me a fella I knew, openin' up a restaurant by the Eastern Pacific line. Howie Johnson, I think his name wuz. Loved beige 'n turquoise.
"Go with bright orange," I says to him, "Beige is sich a prissy li'l color." "But it goes with everything," he says to me. "Whut if it does?" I says. "Folks'll remember orange and turquoise. Nobody remembers beige and turquoise."
I don't know if he ever listened to me. Oh, well. Anyways, nice duds. Next time, ya might think about goin' with orange instead of beige.
Oh, yeah! That thang! It'll be ready Tuesday! Ha ha ha, that's a thigh-slapper, son! Shoot, I wuz jus' funnin' ya. I dunno what that's fer.
Nice pair o' sissified boots ya gots there, kid! Ain't nuttin' like a li'l turquoise 'n beige to strike fear inter the hearts of men!
Cain't whittle nothin' outta THAT, kid!
I cain't read this. I ain't got muh readin' glasses on.
Hey, that ain't yourn! That belongs down t' the cemetery, don't it?
I was just borrowing it for a while.
Oh, yeah, right. An' Mrs. Lincoln enjoyed the show. Git lost, yew shovel-stealin' varmint.
What the HELL you want me to do with THIS thing?
Nothing, I guess.
Good! It smells like horse poop, only it don't weigh nuthin'! Whut is it, "Horse Poop Lite" or somethin'? Get it outta my face!
If you didn't want it, why'd you take it?
Whut'd you want me to do with THIS? Whittle it into sumpthin'? It's too soft! Bring it back in a couple weeks, when it's toughened up a little.
Potatoe sackse.
They'r note fore sal.
These are big ol' crates of the newest taste sensation sweeping the East. Too bad it hasn't reached the West Coast yet, hence all these full boxes.
Due to a recent scandal, Chester refuses to sell any more Broccoli Roll-ups.
Barrels of Chester Field's most famous smoked delicacies.
Chester isn't selling any more smoked pickles. He's recently developed a major craving for them, and goes through about a barrel a week.
Sacks of Bachelor's Favourite♦ Flour.
Pressure from local conservatives convinced Chester to stop selling these to unmarried persons. They felt he was promoting premarital sacks!
It's a horseshoe from Chester's old swayback horse, that got spooked by a wagon, ran into the street and broke its leg under the wagon wheel. Chester sent it to a veterinarian in San Francisco at outrageous cost, but in the end, the horse died anyway. Took every penny Chester had, since the horsemeat guy wouldn't buy the carcass.
Guess he keeps the horseshoe up there for good luck.
What? And take away Chester's good luck charm?
    |c2|Wanted! Dead or Alive!
For Crimes of Bad Taste,
Innuendo & Gentle Perversion
Albert "The Tinkler" Lowe
Alias "The Talking Bear"
Alias "Rottweiler Al"
Alias "Creator of the Cult Classic BOP-A-BET"
Reward: 
$500 Dead 
$15 Alive|c|
Leave it up, just in case somebody spots that no-good, scene-stealin', code-snitchin' wiseass sonnuva slimeball!
         |c3|Notice!
Lost: one ferret
Brown & white, answers to the name of "Daisy"
Enjoys sniffing out dead bodies.
If found, please return to Dr. Olympia Myklos
c/o Leyendecker Museum, New York City, NY|c|
Criminy, if you were missing |c0|your|c| ferret, would |c0|you|c| want somebody to take down your lost notices?
    Announcement to All!
|c1|I am no longer responsible
for any debts incurred by my
wife Valanice, my son Alexander
or my daughter Rosella.
Correspondence may be sent to:
K. Graham of Daventry
c/o P. Patti
Washington, D.C.|c|
Better not touch it. Whoever this Kay Graham is, she might be very upset.
A small metal mirror.
It's nailed in place. Apparently Chester wants to keep it.
These industrial-strength heavy-duty cast-lead pans are coated with a mercury-chlorine compound in order to make them stick-resistant.
Even though they're still hanging up, Chester yanked 'em off the market when it was discovered that lead, mercury and chlorine are all toxic. The manufacturer denies any responsibility.
This is an old kerosene lantern.
Chester only sells lanterns in combination with kerosene, but there's no kerosene to be found these days.
SevereWare♦ Non-Clad Kettles.
Chester's playing it safe; he won't sell these until he's determined that there's no lead, mercury, or chlorine in their manufacture.
This old milk pitcher was only slightly used out on the farm.
Federal law prohibits the sale of items that once contained unpasteurized milk.
A hank of rope.
It's already been sold; Chester's just waiting for Hank to pick it up.
Assorted-size buckets... chicken, grease, slaw, taters and brown gravy-like paste not included.
Chester stopped selling these after they levied the state-wide New Bucket Tax.
This is the interior of Chester Field's Mercantile Company. He used to call it a "General Store" until he ran out of Generals.
Most of what's here won't talk to you, unless it has vocal cords.
The building's not for sale. It's Chester Field's livelihood!
It's a nice picture of a pussycat laying on its back.
You won't need any Kitty Porn in this game!
It's an Early American Bug Zapper. It's a scented candle with Bits O' Gunpowder♦ melted into it.
It's not for sale. Chester likes to keep his store bug-free.
It's a hanging broom. The nineteenth-century equivalent of an "air cleaner."
It's out of reach. Chester puts everything up there that he really kinda wants to hang onto.
A hanging kerosene lantern, used to provide light in the store at night. Since there's no more kerosene to be found, though, Chester now closes at night.
Take the lantern? But... but... but... but that would be STEALING!
     |c2|* Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! *|c|
We've turned the floor of the Coarsegold Arena into a giant |c3|Mud Bog!|c|
|c0|SEE!|c| Funny Stagecoaches!
|c0|SEE!|c| The Giant 18-Wheel Monster Stagecoach crushing EVERYTHING in its path!
|c0|SEE!|c| "Kit," the amazing steam-powered covered wagon from "Night Riders."
ONLY at the Coarsegold Arena!
     |c2|* Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! *|c|
We won't let you remove any of the free plugs for other games.
   |c0|General George Armstrong Custer|c|
          |c1|is looking for|c|
        |c2|a Few Good Men!|c|
Able-bodied Young Men desired for vacation to idyllic Little Big Horn. Intelligent, competent leadership. Wipe out a couple dozen Sioux, how hard can it be? BYOB (Bring Your Own Blunderbuss). Benefits. Contact your local recruiting office.
Hey! Believe it or not, some people ENJOY seeing that crap! Sure, a hundred years from now, they'll probably look back at that kind of entertainment and laugh... but for now, it passes the time!
"Melancholia? Vapors?
   Cold? Headache?
 Neuritis? Neuralgia?
     Dad Gumm it!"
Chester has a contract with DadGummCo stipulating that this sign must remain visible at all times. For which, in return, DadGummCo provides insurance to Chester just in case somebody actually |c0|buys|c| a bottle!
Many's the day you'd find Willy, Chester, Smithie, and a few others in here, all with their feet up on this old pot-bellied stove, playing checkers, whittling, and expectorating. They stopped doing that after the backs of their ankles got too crispy.
It's not for sale, dummy, it's a permanent fixture! Kinda like Willy.
The heavily-stocked back counter runs along the eastern wall of the General Store. A paper bag lies there.
None of the items along the back counter are for sale. Chester's stocking up for the Big Quake, which is due any day now.
This coffee grinder from the 1883 Shear's Catalog makes TWO big cranks they've got in this store!
This coffee grinder is Chester's private property. He won it in his divorce settlement.
(PUNCH LINE) Divorced? On what grounds?
      |c0|Wanted: Dead or Alive!|c|
        |c0|Kwai Chang Caine|c|
Alias "The Grasshopper"
Alias "Hey, you! Chinaman!"
Unarmed but extremely dangerous.
Reward: $25 worth of Turd-All Wax, $50 worth of Ed's Kimono Pies, and a $100 gift certificate to the famous Shwingle Catalog. Over 50,000 quality items providing value, selection & economy. Shwingle, Chicago, Illinois, 60609!
Hey, this guy is still on the loose. He keeps popping up every few years, just when you thought he was canceled... er, caught.
It's the General Store's front door.
Willy, I'm in need a way to disguise my ear. Do you think you could do something creative with this, something in the shape of an ear, perhaps?
Offhand, I'd say, do it yer dang self! M'nap time's comin' up shortly, I've had a hard day of whittlin'. But you could mebbe do sum lost-wax castin' with this sucker'd do the trick.
Lost... wha?
Lost-wax castin', son! Whut'd you do, sleep yer way through metal shop?
I guess I must've. What's "lost-wax casting?"
That's "castin'," with an apostrophe, sonny, not an "ing." Anyhoo, yew kin make all sortsa things by makin' a wax positive, using clay to make a mold, then meltin' down the metal and pourin' it inter a mold.
I think so. I'm not sure.
Welp, that's whut yur "restore" button's fer, kiddo. Now scrambooch.
I already tole ya, it'd make fer sum fine lost-wax casting'!
The door swings open. From the back, you hear Chester's voice.
Help yourself. I'll be right out.
It's Whittlin' Willy's authentic whittlin' knife.
You "borrow" Whittlin' Willy's knife for awhile.
Considering that there's nothing for sale here, you wonder why Chester even bothers keeping these brown paper sacks around.
You take a complimentary paper bag.
Those are wood shavings from Willy's skillful whittlin'.
Too bad you won't need any, since they're obviously available... at substantial shavings!
=== 660.msg ===
It won't be worth taking 'till it's hardened.
This is a bottle of Mom's home-pressed apple cider. Mom is merciless to those poor apples. As she turns the press, she screams, "Die, you suckers, die!"
If you value your right hand -- and we |c2|know|c| you do -- don't be opening Mom's cabinets.
Rumor has it that Helen Back keeps the heads of her three dead husbands somewhere behind the Melmac plates and dishes in that china cabinet.
Oh, oh, oh! You in big water now!
|c2|LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!|c| Freddy Pharkas, I'll see you run out of town for this!! Hop Singh, hop to it! Get out here and clean up this mess! Damn these flies!
Mom offers free coffee to her regular customers. You're as regular as anyone -- 11 a.m. every morning, you head straight for the outhouse! So, as usual, you pour yourself a steamin' hot cuppa joe.
Mr. Pharkas, I have no objection to your coming in here and taking a cup of coffee. But please, limit yourself to one cup at a time. Or I will have no choice but to break your skinny bones like matchsticks.  Are we clear on this now? Good.
You take another cup of coffee.
Oh, sure. Mom's bottomless pot of coffee. Drink up all my profits, why don't you? Take cup after cup. What do you think, I'm running a restaurant here?
Sor-REE! Gee, Mom, get off my back! Nag, nag, nag!
It's one of those newfangled Ol' Missuh Coffee machines. Helen sets it out every other day for free coffee.
You won't need any of |c2|that|c| corn... you're getting enough corn playing this game.
But that can is full of corn! You'll get corn-packing-juice all over everything!
P&W Corn: "Firm, crisp kernels that look as good coming out as they do going in!"
You see nothing on the counter worth snitching.
Mom's counter is clean and spanking-white. Helen Back is anal-retentive about cleanliness.
Fer cryin' out loud! You've dropped a horse pie in the middle of Mom's Cafe! What could you have been thinking of? It wasn't lunch, that's for darn tootin'.
Damned flies! This place is like a stable! Maggots crawling through the door and flies circling the ceiling! What's this town coming to? Flies in the summer, snow fleas in the winter. God, but I miss Missouri! Hop Singh, haven't you put up those no-pest strips yet?!?
Freddy Pharkas! Look what you brought in with you. What's next?  Honestly.
Sorry, Mom. They on order.
Dummy Msg.
Dummy Msg.
Dummy Msg.
There are too many to catch, and they're too fast.
A swarm of flies makes a constant circuit inside the Cafe. They're the bane of Mom's existence! Along with customers, employees, or anyone who talks to her or has anything to do with her in any way.
Hello, Flies! If I chase that nasty ol' Mom away with a stick, will you give help me find a magic key or something?
They just buzz at you a little bit. Don't forget, this ain't fantasy, this is REALITY!
Mom would cut off your testicles and serve them for lunch. Knowing the locals, they'd enjoy 'em!
Helen Back, a.k.a. "Mom," loves to decorate her dining room with fresh-cut flowers. But since there are no flowers in Coarsegold, she makes do with these sprouted collard green tops.
Hmmph. Dunno who around here will eat these, since they don't give you gas, but I'll put them in a bag of cornstarch and think about it. And I suppose a thank-you is in order, so thank you.
Are you implying that my customers are in need of bicarbonate?
Well, I...
You've got your nerve! At least MY customers aren't sick when they walk in the DOOR!
You narrowly avoid making an obvious comeback.
Do you see a liquor license anywhere on the wall?
No, but...
Then take that out of here before I get my butt hauled into the pokey!
Are you implying that my steaks are as tough as leather?
Not at all, I was just...
Take those smelly old things out of here before I lose any sense of aroma I might already have had.
Those are certainly not fit for human consumption!
But then, what in this Cafe IS?
If it isn't carnauba wax, take it away.
It isn't.
Take it away.
We don't do any GRILLING here, you fool! We FRY!
Oh, if only she would!
Do I look like a person who's lost a key?
Not exactly, but...
Then take it away! Honestly, some people's children.
That's not going to be ready 'til Tuesday.
Oh. I was hoping to...
It was a joke. A JOKE! Do you even understand what a joke is? Honestly.
That's clay! What am I supposed to do with it? Are you implying my complexion isn't what it ought to be?
No, I'm...
Then take it away. I've never been so insulted in all my life.
Nothing HERE needs cleaning! We thoroughly wash everything before serving it. Isn't that right, Hop Singh?
You told me not to waste water except when health department man...
It was a rhetorical question, dammit. Hop Singh: back to work. Freddy: stop pestering me.
I wouldn't be caught DEAD in an outfit like that! What do I look like, some sort of cowboy?
No, cowboys don't put on their makeup with putty knives!
If you don't like it, you don't have to drink it.
You idiot, it's the HORSES that are sick, not my customers! They're all happily dining on my freshly-cooked specialties.
Well, I never!
Maybe that's why she's so tense and irritable all the time.
I don't need that! I never get indigestion!
You eat here, don't you?
Heavens no! I send out. What do you think I am, crazy?
I don't want your steenkin' empties!
You've got something absolutely putrid in that bag, Freddy Pharkas!
So you want me to take it out of the restaurant?
You might as well. We've already prepared the Blue Plate Special for today.
Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do! Walking in here with a doggie bag and expecting me to fill it for you.
I wasn't...
Oh, of course you were. I don't want to hear another word about it.
We're SAFE in here, you dolt! There's no gas in here!
Really? Has she tried the Chili 'n Broccoli Surprise?
That filth will attract flies! Get it out of here at once! You are truly disgusting! I'm flabbergasted! I'm speechless!
As if!
Tell me, what do I need an ice pick for when I've got Hop Singh's hands? They're deadly weapons! They're registered!
I don't remember needing anything from the Pharmacy right now. So pawn it off on one of your other victims!
I already told you that I don't want that. Would you like me to find a NEW PLACE to put it?
I don't think so.
Good! I don't relish the thought either.
I've got plenty of knives here already. I'm not ill-equipped, you know! Honestly.
I don't need a ladder. Whatever Hop Singh or I can't reach, we just throw things at.
Get that rope away from me. I'm no heifer!
Not much!
What am I supposed to do with a leather strap? Honestly.
Normally I'd LOVE to read somebody else's mail. But I'm just a bit busy right now.
Helen Back, proprietor of Mom's Cafe, is better known as Mom.
If she was my Mom, I'd run away from home!
So your assistant won a medal. Big deal. Hop Singh's won more Cordon Bleu awards than you can shake a spatula at.
You don't owe me any money. You haven't bought anything from me in ages! You just come in here for the free coffee! Honestly.
Take that ragged old napkin away. I'd never use such a garish piece of garbage. Honestly!
I don't know what that is, but I don't find it the least bit funny!
Figures.
Where did that come from? That looks like one of Hop Singh's!
I must confess, I took it. I need it. I promise to repay you.
You'd better! I don't want THAT one back anymore, you've dented it!
Seriously? You want to shoot this sweet old lady? The one everybody calls "Mom?" Yeah, good idea, but you just can't!
Take this smut out of here instantly! Wait a second, let me see those. Got 'er, got 'er, want 'er, got 'er, want 'er, had 'er, need 'er, want 'er, got 'er, got 'er. OK, thanks! Now get that smut out of here immediately!
My backside is scarcely in need of lubrication! Honestly.
I don't cook with water. I cook with 100% fatback. So we won't be needing any of your half-assed concoctions in here!
Take that filthy thing out of here. It's got graveyard clay all over it!
Morning, Helen!
Freddy Pharkas! Since when are we on a first-name basis? Only my closest friends may call me "Helen." You and I are acquaintances, nothing more. Therefore, you should address me as "Mom."
Land's sake, I'm sorry, Hel... er, Mom!
That's better. Now, what did you want?
Uh... When I remember, I'll let you know.
Honestly, some people.
Hel... Mom! Did you know that the Hotel's been shut down?
Why, of course I did! Where on earth have you BEEN, Freddy Pharkas?
Any idea of who did it, or why?
Sheriff Shift and Phineas were there, talking about it being a fire hazard and something about there being back rent owed. But I'm no gossip. Don't go by what I'm telling you!
Have you heard anything else?
I'm no gossip, Freddy Pharkas, and I've got work to do. Why don't you go do yours? Yes, I believe that's the best idea. You get along and get back to work.
Mom, I apologize for leaving that little souvenir with you.
I'm not talking to you right now. I'm ashamed to be your Mom. Now you just turn right around and go outside and THINK about what you've done for awhile. You can come back in here when you decide to behave like a human being again.
Mom, there was a fire last night that almost burned the whole town down.
Don't you think I saw that for myself on the way to work this morning?  Honestly!
Fortunately, I was able to put the fire out with a little baking soda.
So THAT'S the stench I've been smelling! What an inconsiderate clod you can be. That burnt baking-soda smell is simply nauseating. It's no wonder I've got no customers today.
I thought I was doing the town a favor.
Well, next time, think a little harder.
Mom, I'm going to be leaving town awhile. Just wanted to tip m' hat and say thanks.
Fool, you're not even wearing a hat.
And in case I don't see you again, I think you're a brave, feisty, spry li'l lady.
Why, you condescending twerp, I'm not a "little lady," and if you ever call me "feisty and spry" again, you'll need a blacksmith to help you swallow your lunch.
Yes, well... so long, now.
Whatever.
Mom, where are all your customers?
Damned if I know. They all jumped up at more or less the same time and ran to the outhouse. It's not my fault, though. They hadn't even et yet. Just had a glass of water, and bam, they're gone. If you tell anyone about it, you're dead meat on a hook.
That sounds fair.
Mom, you'd better keep everyone inside 'til I can get this horse flatulence thing straightened out.
Not that it's any of your business, but I'll be keeping my customers in here as long as I can. 'Course, if they just keep ordering weak tea and Uwanna Biscuits, I'll toss their butts into the street. Can't make any money selling tea and frickin' biscuits!
Mom, what do you know about ants?
Keep your voice down, Freddy Pharkas. That was a long time ago, and I paid the fine and got rid of the ants.
No, I meant wild ants.
You're talking crazy talk. There's no such thing as domesticated ants. Ants is ants. Now get out before you scare away the customers.
What customers??
Mom, Mom!
Let me guess. You only have one cavity.
Huh? No, I wanted to know if you have any salt. There's a stampede of snails a-comin', and I need to stop 'em.
I don't know anything about no stampede. Unless they're stopping here to eat, I don't even care. As for salt, you KNOW we're a salt-free community! That's why everyone's so laid back. Low blood pressure. And we aim to keep it that way.
Dang! Well, what could I use?
Beer works for me. I just spread a little of it out along the back porch and the little buggers just follow it right off!
Jeez, Mom, thanks.
Now git outta here!
Helen, have you ever thought of putting escargot on the menu?
You've already taken it, I don't want it back. Like I said, take it out of here, I'm sick of the sight of it. Honestly!
We don't serve beer in here, Freddy Pharkas.
It's water, it's just in a beer bottle.
Do you think I was born yesterday, Freddy Pharkas?
Obviously not.
Well! I never!
Well! Maybe you SHOULD!
I must say, Freddy Pharkas, that's pretty clever of you. You DID get points for that, didn't you?
Yes, Ma'am.
I should hope so.
That looks like Saloonware, not Cafeware.
No no! Only need bicarbonate AFTER eating food, not during preparation phase!
Prefer plum wine! You got any plum wine?
Uh... no.
Thought not! Nobody in town ever get plum wine! Bah!
Not mine! Hop Singh's feet bound to take smaller size!
Hmm... not need bullets, not called for in repertoire of recipes!
Not need wax, unless you got carnauba wax for pastries. You got any carnauba wax?
Uh... no.
Same all over town! Feh!
Ahh, perfect for hibachi! You got hibachi?
Um... nope.
Nobody got Hibachi in Coarsegold. Sad, sad!
Not need key! Hop Singh welcome everywhere in Coarsegold. You welcome everywhere in Coarsegold?
Nooooo, I couldn't say that.
Didn't think so! Hop Singh most popular in town!
Ah, so! Be ready Tuesday! Sorry, little joke. Cousin Lo Fat have laundry in New York. Hop Singh not know what claim check for.
Ooh, Freddy Pharkas make lousy pudding! Very gummy, bad flavor.
That not mine! Hop Singh use cleaver, not gun!
Very bad taste! Turquoise and beige. Try black and red and yellow. Now that is color combination.
You not like it, you don't have to drink it. Hop Singh not want it back.
I look like horse to you?
Nay. I mean, no.
Good! Then take away!
Not in front of food!
Hop Singh fit as fiddle! Not needing nostrums!
We not accept empties. Sorry!
Ooh, take away before Mom sees! Mom keep very neat restaurant, not appreciate bag of flatulent.
We already have plenty doggie bags.
Hop Singh have advanced filtration nostrils, not need gas mask. Thank you kindly anyway!
No, no, no, no, no! Take away! Mom make me clean that up if you leave it here!
Hop Singh use karate to chop ice, not needing ice pick.
You already offer that to me! What, you no take "no" for answer? No, no, no!
You not want to threaten Hop Singh. I break bones like that.
Not needing ladder. Everything in kitchen down low.
Always wanted one of these! You have one made out of silk?
Oh, gee, not on me.
Too bad. You find silk lasso, let me know. Hop Singh got kinky idea.
That pretty pitiful whip. Much too short and flat.
So sorry, cannot read that. Lost contacts.
It's Hopalong Singh, Helen's faithful cook from the Far East. He used to work as a professional chef for a chain of Ponderolla restaurants.
Very nice medallion! Congratulate Srini for me!
Not need your money. Mom pay me better than I make in San Francisco. Develop "Nouvelle Frontier" cuisine. Very popular!
Nice quality neckerchief. Where you steal it from?
Steal it? Don't be silly. It's mine!
Uh-huh. Never seen you with neckerchief before.
I had it put away for safekeeping. It's my lucky neckerchief.
Ah, no wonder you have so little luck lately.
No, thank you. Hop Singh not in laughing mood just now.
That pie look awfully familiar! Look like one I just made awhile ago and now is missing! Where you find it?
Uh... my Mom sent it to me. Yeah, that's it, my Mom sent it to me.
Let me smell that! (SNIFF SNIFF) Say! You Mom almost as bad a baker as I am! I cannot bake pie to save life!
You level the pistol at Hop Singh.
Do not try it! Wearing bulletproof apron! Hah!
Not interested in looking at pictures of American women.
They're French, not American.
Even worse! You got pictures of chocolate desserts?
Uh... no, sorry.
Nobody in Coarsegold got pictures of chocolate desserts. Phooey!
That for tea?
Well, it's for the town's water supply.
Then no concern to me.
Nice rope, so?
Shovel very dirty. Please to remove it from restaurant before Mom have hissy fit.
Hmm, mediocre quality snail. Very tough, make chewy appetizers. You show to Mom, she make buying decisions. Hop Singh just work here.
Howdy, Hop! How's the restaurant business?
Pretty slow! Not much business. Seem like town closing up and blowing away.
You've noticed that too, have you?
Oh, yes. First Old Abandoned Mine, then Assay Office, then Post Office, then Tall & Thin Shop, then Theatre, yesterday Hotel. What next?
Well, I intend to get to the bottom of this.
Maybe hurry, before Mom's next to go! Hop Singh not want to lose his job!
Can I ask you a question, Hop Singh?
What's that?
It's an inquiry, an interrogative sentence calling for an answer. But that's not important right now. I'd like to know if you've got something against pronouns, contractions and conjunctions. You use so few of them.
(IN BEAUTIFUL BRITISH ACCENT) I can anytime I like. It's simply that Helen Back paid me handsomely to come and act like an "authentic" Chinese chef. Granted nobody actually speaks like this, but she seems to THINK people speak like this. So, hey, she cuts the checks, I just play along. (CHINESE AGAIN:) That answer question?
Perfectly. Thanks!
Hey, Hop!
Freddy Pharkas again! What with you? I have restaurant to run, you still have Pharmacy to run, yes?
Er... yes.
Then get back to it! I busy here!
Hop Singh, you're not mad at me, are you?
|c0|OUT! OUT! OUT!|c| Hop Singh not want you slinging the bull in here no more.
But it was an accident! It slipped, okay?
Slip? Slip? What you carrying that plop around for in first place? How stupid can one pharmacist get? Honestly!
Uh-oh, he's been hanging around Mom too long!
Say, Hop! Hear about the big fire last night?
Oh yes! Very dramatic.
I came to the rescue, though. Put out the fire single-handedly!
Ohhh, very good. We all proud of you. You BMOC!
BMOC?
Big Mensch Of Coarsegold!
Hop Singh, I'll be leaving town for a while.
Okay! Hate long goodbyes! Sayonara!
I'll miss you, too.
Sayonara!
You've been just like a chef to me.
SAYONARA! Arrivederci! Adios! Hasta la vista!
Gee, I don't know much Chinese, Hop, so I don't know what you just said, but... goodbye.
GOODBYE!
Hey, Hop Singh! Don't serve any water 'til I've had a chance to check it out. I think something's up with the water supply.
No problemo! This California. We not serve water with meals unless customer beg.
Hop Singh, I just want to warn you NOT to go outside and NOT to let your customers go outside 'til we've cleared the air.
We having big argument or something?
No, not that I know of.
Then why need to clear the air?
Never mind. Go outside all you like.
Thank you for kind permission!
Hey, Hop Singh, you know anything about getting people off of anthills?
Not hardly!
Thanks, you're a big help.
You not talk to me like that. I got big cleaver.
Have you heard, Hop Singh? Thar's a stampede a-comin'!
Nobody tell Hop Singh nothing back here. Hop Singh could fall over and die and rot and nobody would even know for days.
Well, I'm telling you now.
Ye, yeh. Go and leave Hop Singh to suffer in silence. So what if everybody ignore me? So what if nobody talk to me back here, except Mom when she want something? So what if Hop Singh slave over hot steam table all day and work fingers to the bone?
I thought you were going to suffer in silence.
OK for you, Freddy Pharkas! You get yours, you see! You just like all the rest! Vamoose!
That brand of beans we use! Some coincidence!
I got this can here. Mom gave it to me.
Oh! Impressed. Mom not give old empty tin can to just anyone. Must really like you!
Hop Singh not beer-drinker!
This is water, not beer.
Oh-ho, you very sneaky, try to get Hop Singh drunk and give away cooking secrets.
That's truly not what I had in mind.
Do you no good! Hop Singh not HAVE any cooking secrets! Play it by ear!  Guess that twice the work for you, eh? Heh!
Very clever! Hop Singh hope you get big points for that.
A-yep!
Good, good! You be hero yet!
Hop Singh have no need of empty glass.
You can't reach anything in the kitchen from here.
Mom's kitchen is spotlessly clean and efficiently-run.
The kitchen counter. (Let's see... you count 1 kitchen!)
There's nothing on the counter you need.
Hopalong Singh (Hop, for short) doesn't take kindly to people invading his inner sanctum.
Nobody goes into my kitchen without my permission. |c0|Nobody,|c| do you hear?
Heed her warning. The last customer who crossed Mom ended up on the Blue Plate Special.
These swingin' kitchen doors do nothing to keep the smells in the kitchen.
You poke her in the shoulder pad. Ewww! It's all mushy and bloated! Charlotte doesn't even glance at you. She's too busy talking with her mouth full.
Yes, it's SOOOO tempting! But you'll have to restrain your murderous impulses. It's just not in character.
She's too intent on getting her just desserts to care about that.
Charlotte Russe, one of the local gossips, is stuffing her face with dessert, a sponge cake and whipped cream monstrosity. It makes your arteries seize up just looking at her!
Hello, Mrs. Russe. That sure is a lovely dessert you're wearing today!
(GARBLED) Mmph gluphum truph aphuphuphum.
You poke Sarah in the back, but she doesn't stop talking for a moment. What concentration! What dedication! What a MOUTH!
That would be justice, wouldn't it? Sarah's stabbed so many people in the back, it would only be fair for someone to turn the tables. But a first-degree murder charge might interfere with your efforts to save the town just now.
She's far too busy cutting down people she hardly knows to bother with the likes of you. Maybe you should offer her a saucer of milk!
It's Sarah Hardtbern, the director of the local community theatre. She's doing some power-klatsching... massacring several cheese danish, numerous cups of cappucino, and three or four reputations.
Howdy, Sarah. Any big productions planned this season?
She ignores you. Apparently she doesn't like to be interrupted in mid-slander.
No need to, since it's always bright, sunny and cheerful in Mom's Cafe. Mostly because the weather wouldn't DARE cross Mom!
A decorative oil lamp is attached to the wooden support beam.
This is no time to sit and chow down. You've got work to do!
Homey, red-and-white-striped spotless-tablecloths cover Mom's tables.
Better not let Mom catch you fooling around with her order wheel!
Do you have an order to put on the order wheel?
Uh... no.
Then were you going to take one of the orders and fill it?
Er... no.
Then keep your hands by your sides before I make them a permanent fixture.
It's an order wheel.
No, thank you, Frederick. I don't drink, and I hope you don't, either. After all, lips that touch liquor will never touch mine!
Hey, I hear ya, Penelope! Lips that lick... yes, what you just said.
Hmmm, a pair of cowboy boots. The kind that ruffians and hooligans wear. Wherever did you find these?
They were my... I just... they... um, I forget. Yes, that's it, I forget.
Hm. Well, I'd get rid of them immediately before somebody gets the idea that you're some sort of gunslinger!
Look, Penelope... candle wax!
Why, yes it is, Frederick. How lovely for you. Are you starting some sort of collection?
No. I mean yes.
Oh. Well, if I run across any myself, I'll be glad to save some for you.
How quaint, a handful of charcoal. You'll pardon me if I don't take those off your hands, won't you? I don't want to muss my dress.
Shoot, no problem, Penelope. I'll take care of this.
Look, Penelope, see what I have here!
A key?
Yep!
I'm very happy for you, Frederick.
See this claim check, Penelope? Does it mean anything to you?
I'm sure it doesn't, Frederick. I'm sorry. Perhaps one of our local shopkeepers would recognize it.
Look, Penelope! Clay!
Hmmm, this is quite interesting. Hydrous aluminum silicate, mixed with powdered feldspar, quartz, sand, iron oxides and other minerals. Very malleable!
Penelope, you've never looked more beautiful to me than you do now, analyzing the chemical makeup of this compound.
Thank you, Frederick. I like looking at you, too.
Penelope, look! I've concocted something that will cure the horses of their noxious fume-emitting!
Tres magnifique, Frederick!!
No, it's nothing like that. I call it "Deflatulizer."
Oh, I see. Well, I'm very proud of you nonetheless.
Frederick, please! Not in front of Mom.
Look, Penelope!
Isn't that the key to your Pharmacy, Frederick?
Yes, Penelope! Very good, ten points!
But you shouldn't be waving it around, Frederick! You wouldn't want anyone to steal it and rob the Pharmacy, would you?
You chuckle confidently as you slip the key back into your pocket.
Here, Penelope.
I'm sorry, Frederick, you know those drugstore remedies don't do me any good!
Some empty bottles, Penelope?
What a... |c2|thoughtful|c|... gift, Frederick. Tell you what: why don't YOU hang onto these for me, since I don't want to. Thank you so much.
Sure. A-yuh. A-yuh.
Want to look in this bag, Penelope? G'wan, I dare you.
Why, certainly, Frederick. I'll be happy to open this bag and look inside, if that's what you'd like me to do. Bear in mind, though, that I don't really like surprises very much. Let's both hope there's nothing in this bag that would make me cross with you. Shall I open it now?
No, no, no, no, no. No. I just wanted to see if you wanted to. Don't open it.
Very well.
No thank you, Frederick. My, I haven't purposefully hyperventilated since my college days!
Look at this new invention of mine, Penelope. It filters noxious odors out of the air by forcing air to pass through a chamber filled with activated charcoal.
That's exceedingly clever, Frederick! If you provide one of these to every man, woman and child in the town, we'll be safe from the poisonous fumes being emitted by the horses!
Oh... well, I only made this one. This is all the charcoal there was.
Ah, well then. Use it wisely, Frederick. Our safety is in your hands, my handsome pharmacist!
That certainly looks sharp and pointy, Frederick! Please, take it away before I puncture myself!
This looks like somebody else's prescription, Frederick! You'd better get back to work and give it to him right away. It might be important!
Good thought! You're so smart, Penelope.
You're so obedient and puppy-doggish, Frederick. Now straight off with you!
I certainly hope that's not the ladder from our playground slide, Frederick. I'd hate to think you'd stolen that from the children. I would have to rethink our whole relationship.
No, it just looks like the playground slide. I wouldn't steal anything from children. (Gulp!)
Look, Penelope! It's my lasso! I made it out of rope!
That's VERY good, Frederick. VERY good!
I certainly hope you're not expecting ME to use that leather strap, Frederick. I do not go in for those unusual games.
Uh, no, I was just showing it to you.
Well, then, that's fine.
Oh, did you need me to read this to you?
No, no... I was just seeing if you wanted it.
Whatever for, Frederick? It's addressed to you. Why would I want it?
Well, I...
Don't tell me you were just wandering around, trying to give items to people at random? That's no way to be a Western Hero.
No, no, I wasn't, I swear.
That's good, let's keep it that way, shall we?
Yes, yes, whatever you say, Penelope.
It's Penelope! Just look at the way she sits at that table and eats and talks! Isn't she simply dreamy?
MY SWEETHEART!
You don't owe me any money, Frederick. You keep it, I insist.
Yes, I was just showing it to you.
Oh! Well, it's a very nice bankroll, Frederick.
Thank you.
Would you like some beer, Penelope?
Brewed malt beverages are an acquired taste, preferred by lowbrows and ruffians. Surely you don't drink them, do you, Frederick?
No, but this is beer.
Beer IS a brewed malt beverage.
Oh. I knew that. No, I don't drink beer, that's why I was offering it to you.
Oh. I see. Hmmmm.
Look, rope!
Yes, Frederick, it certainly is.
Want it?
No. Don't you?
Yes, but I was just checking.
Oh! That was considerate of you, thank you!
Penelope, be careful. For some reason, the horses in town are expelling huge quantities of poison gas! It's not safe outside.
My hero! I'll stay inside until it's safe. Thank you, Freddy. You may have just saved my life. I suppose I'll have to find a way to repay your kindness... if that's all right with you.
Why, sure! I mean... wow, hot dog, Penelope! I mean, er... sounds good!
Empty can of beans?
No, but thank you for asking!
You're most welcome.
You can't reach that hot apple pie from here!
How tempting! Fresh apple pie, still warm from Mom's oven. What could be more American?
Where were you going to go with it? To the "post" office?
This support post has held up Mom's Cafe for years.
You consider doing your Famous Tablecloth Trick, but there's nobody around to be impressed!
Anybody wanna see my Spectacular Tablecloth Trick?
Anybody want to see my famous "Julienne A Troublemaker and Serve Him As A Side Order with the Chicken-Fried Steak" trick?
On second thought, the Tablecloth trick isn't that spectacular. Let's skip it.
Smart boy.
If you get your fingerprints on anything in this spotlessly clean, cozy little cafe, Mom will check out the fingerprints, trace them to you, and make you one sorry hombre.
Get your greasy fingerprints on anything and I'll staple your fingers over them.
It's Mom's Cafe, owned by Helen Back, "The Surliest Mom In The West."
That's there to be admired, not conversed with.
Better wait 'til Mom is here before you try to take anything from her shelves.
I'm so glad you like the decor in here, Mr. Pharkas. Of course, if you were to rearrange it, or move it, or touch it in any way, I would have to kill you. You do understand, don't you?
Certainly, yes, I understand.
That's good. See how nice things are when we cooperate with each other?
Mom has stored some decorative empty bottles, plates, and those unique and wonderful "Air Ferns" she bought out of Pureed Magazine on this high shelf.
Did you know what Hop Singh did to the last customer who tried to go into my kitchen?
Nope.
Did you try the Beef Wellington last week?
Yes, I guess I did.
Then I'm sure you'll figure it out on gut instinct.
Ulp!
These swinging doors lead to the kitchen.
Better not disturb any of Mom's shelves unless you ask her permission first.
Hey, Mom! Would you mind if I took this empty can?
If you must. I suppose there's more where that came from. In fact, I |c0|insist|c| you take it. Get it out of here. I'm sick of the sight of it.
That may be a fine idea later on, but right now, that isn't your can to poke!
It's an old, empty can of P&W beans. "The firm, crisp beans that smell as savory on the way out as they do on the way in!"
=== 670.msg ===
Don't bother him. He's sleeping it off. Then, when he wakes up, he'll have a hair of the dog that bit him, and the cycle will begin anew... like the miracle of life itself!
You thrust the prescription under Doc's nose and demand an explanation.
I demand an explanation!
Wussa problem? Wussamatter with it? Looks fine to me. Get it outta my face. And while I'm tellin' you off, you're worth more dead than alive, George Bailey! <|c2|hic|c|>
You thrust the prescription and the whisky glass under Doc's nose.
Hey, Doc, this says "Testosterate." You really want to prescribe this to a WOMAN?
Teshtosterate... hmmm... no, I spoze that would be uneffi... <|c2|hic|c|> Ineffi... <|c2|hic|c|> ...a poor choice. Leshee, this was for Sadie Ovaree, right? I mushta meant shomethin' else. Lemme fix it...
Here ya go, take thish back to your Pharmashy and have fun.
Thanks, Doc.
And don't come crying to ME, George Bailey! I'm gonna shwear out a warrant for your arresht!
I cain't read this so good. Mus' be sumptin wrong with ma eyes.
Why, it's old Doc "Dizzy" Gillespie. He's been drinking again. (Must be office hours.)
Doc! Hey, Doc!
Huh? Wuzzat?
Are you drunk again?
Me? Drunk? <|c2|bellllch|c|> Never! I'm shober as the day I was plowed off my ass. <|c2|hic|c|> I mean, the day I was born.
Doc, you're not writing prescriptions while you're drunk, are you?
No, no, no, never. <|c2|hic|c|> I'm a reshponshible individual with an impeccal... <|c2|hic|c|> impeccer... <|c2|hic|c|>... imperfect reputation! <|c2|belllllch|c|>
Doc?
Wha...? Whuzzat? I shwear, ish an eshtablished medical proshedure. I wuzh not negligent.
No, Doc, I just wanted to tell you that I'm worried about you. Your prescriptions have been getting sloppier and sloppier. Let's work together on this.
You have my complete cooperashun. Lesh drink to it! Barkeep? Another round for my preshcription-fillin' friend here.
Just simmer in your own juices for a while.
Doc, what do you know about snails?
They make me shick to my shtomach. <|c2|Urrrrrrp|c|>
Pardon? They make you what?
Shick! Shick!
That'll be quite enough of that, Doc. We're not plugging any shaving cream companies in this game.
Doc, what can you tell me about ants?
Shorry, I'm jusht a little blotto at the moment. Perhapsh shum other time... <|c2|borrrrrrrp|c|>
Doc! You've got to come and help! The Assay Office is on fire!
Oh, HALLO, Freddy Pharkash! <|c2|bellllllllch|c|>
You catch a whiff of Doc's breath.
On second thought, maybe you'd better stay here and keep your breath away from that fire.
Thash very conshiderate. <|c2|burrrrrrp|c|>
Doc! What do you recommend for extreme flatulence?
Hmmm... raw vegetablesh, beansh, and pizza ushually do the trick for me. <|c2|bellllllch|c|>
Hey, Doc... don't you think you ought to sober up? There's a lot of sick people in this town, and they need your attention.
I'm attem... <|c2|urrrrrrrp|c|>... empting to asshisht by sh... sh... shimulating their condishun. But thish whishky is slow-acting. It may take awhile before I reash their level of dishcomfort. <|c2|burrrrrrrrp|c|>
Doc, what do you do when you're awake and you can't get back to sleep?
I conduct an exshperiment. <|c2|burrrrrp|c|> I attempt to find out how many shots of whishky it takesh to get to the center of a liver condition. <|c2|hic|c|>
Doc!
Wuzzat? <|c2|hic|c|> What?
I just want you to know I'll be leaving town soon. Once I do, Srini's going to be in charge of the Pharmacy. I've deputized him to fill prescriptions. OK? Doc?
Zzzzzz... <|c2|snort|c|>... <|c2|hic|c|>... <|c2|drool|c|>...
Damn! He's fallen asleep with his eyes open again.
OK, Doc, I'm makin' my goodbyes. I'm about to cut outta town.
<|c2|hic|c|> G'wan, run, George Bailey! You can run, but you can't hide! Happy New Year to you, in JAIL! <|c2|burrrrp|c|>
Oh, dear. You hate to leave him like this. So you decide to fulfill an old man's bleary, whisky-soaked fantasy...
Please, Mr. Potter! Can't you loan me the $3000? I'll give you anything!
HA HA HA! <|c2|hic|c|> <|c2|hic|c|> I've got you now, George! You and your worthless friends! Run! Run all you like! And thanksh! That was fun! <|c2|belllch|c|>
Don't you touch me, Freddy Pharkash! I'm shterile! An' I don't need your help!
OK, Doc. Just take it easy.
And Happy New Year to you, George Bailey. IN JAIL!! <|c2|hic|c|>
Oh, no! He thinks he's Lionel Barrymore. It happens once in awhile.
Well, for goodness' sake, don't rip the glass right OUT OF HIS HAND!
Dad Gumm's Elixir? Never toucha shtuff. Too many medishinal ingrediensh. Gesh in the way of the booze.
Hey, ishn't that the key to a roll-top deshk?
Whoa, you're a real help.
Same to you, buddy!
I don't want it back now! You emptied it!
No, it was empty when I got it from you.
Sam! Freddy drank my whishky!
It's not a contest, boys. Now play nice.
I already fixed that for you. Go back and fill it, you lazy good-for-nothing flibberdeegibbit!
(Oooh! Such language!)
Wussat?
Preparation G. It's an anti-hemorrhoidal ointment.
Well, I don't need it! I'm sittin' on a doughnut.
I don't drink beer. Ish a shisshy drink!
This isn't beer, it's water.
Worsh yet!
Why, I wouldn't give you a dime! Collateral, none. Real eshtate? None.  Nothing but that bankrupt old Building & Loan. Why, you're worth more dead than alive, George Bailey! Bwa-ha-ha-ha! <|c2|belllllllch|c|>
Poor Doc. He really wishes he were living in someplace nicer, like Bedford Falls. And apparently you look more like Jimmy Stewart than you thought.
Your basic instinct won't let you stab Doc with the ice pick!
Aauuughh! You burnt down the brothel!
What are you talking about? This is charcoal from Smithie's forge. I just wanted to see if I could mellow you and age you in charcoal, like with whisky.
Don't mind if I do! <|c2|hic|c|>
<|c2|hiccup|c|> What are you gonna do with that handful of leather shtraps?
This is only one leather shtrap... I mean, strap.
Anything you shay... you're the shtrapping lad around here anyway! <|c2|hic|c|>
Doc Gillespie doesn't need the gas mask. Every breath he takes is sanitized by his booze-soaked nose hair!
I don't need that, shonny. I know the SHECRET to never breaking wind.  C'mere, I'll whishper it to you.
Well... all right.
You lean down to hear the Doc's medical wisdom.
(BELCH LOUDLY) (LAUGH) But it worksh! It worksh!
Care for some escargot?
The Doc turns slightly green. His cheeks begin to puff out. His head begins to lurch. You discreetly pocket the snails before this scene gets any uglier.
A windfall! Yahoo! Sham, drinksh are on me!
You got it, Doc. Drinks for everyone.
No, Sham. I mean put the drinks ON ME!
Wait, wait, wait. I'm not giving you this money so you can get drunk. I'm giving it to you so you can get a new start, a whole new beginning.
Thash what I'm doing! I'm gonna get drunk all over again. A whole new shtart!
Then I'm taking my money back.
Whoa, big surprise there.
Never toucha stuff <|c2|hic|c|> toucha stuff. Beer ish a very pedeshtrian beverage. Thash why I shtick <|c2|hic|c|> to whishky. Ish jusht far more shophishticated. <|c2|belllllch|c|>
Whaddaya want me to do with THOSE things?
I was thinking you might want to upchuck into them.
I'm not feelin' up to that. <|c2|hic|c|> Thanksh fer thinkin' of me, though.
Why, that looksh like the key to your Pharmashy! <|c2|burrrrrp|c|>
You're some help.
Hey, I heard that, and I won't even jushtify it with a reshponse.
Oh, go ahead and justify it.
So you've got two laddersh. <|c2|hic|c|> Big deal, you can only use one at a time!
Yippie-oi-vay! <|c2|hic|c|>
Wussat?
Just a little water purification solution I worked up in the lab.
How doesh it mix with whishky?
I dunno, I never tried it that way.
Well, lemme know if you got any leftoversh. I wouldn't mind givin' it a try. <|c2|hic|c|>
How did you get ahold of THISH, George Bailey? Why, there'sh enough preshurized nitroush oxide in this canishter to fill a couple of city blocksh with masshive amountsh of laughing gash!
Want to try some?
Not me, noshir! I don't ingesht recreational drugsh, they're abushive to the body and deshtructive to soshiety. Welp, one more li'l drinkie-poo and then I'll be drivin' my wagon home. <|c2|hic|c|>
Not tonight, Doc. You stay here and sleep it off. I've already taken the keys to your carriage.
Thanks, Sam.
'Sokay, Freddy.
This has been a public service message. Remember, friends don't let friends drive drunk. This includes horse-drawn vehicles.
There'sh nothing wrong with my stomach, Freddy Pharkash... <|c2|bellllch|c|>.
Shhhhay! Three-dee postcards!
You hold the postcards up to your nose.
Three-dee? Where? Where? Where where where?
Apparently you need to get plenty schnockered before you can see what HE sees!
(SOB AND CRY PITIFULLY) Sob!
What's wrong?
<sob> <hic> You melted it! 
It was only a candle.
<sniff> And now ish gone, jush a puddle of old waxsh. Thish ish the shaddest thing I ever sheen.
Poor Doc. His emotions are on the edge these days.
Auuuuggh! Ish a holdup! Take my money, but no shcars, no shcars!
This isn't a holdup! I was just playing around a little!
It's just as well, he doesn't have any money. That's why he's been nursing that same drink for the past eight hours.
That looksh like the key to a shafe-deposit boxsh!
You're a big help.
Alright for you, George Bailey! Go back to your flea-bitten friendsh!
Why, that looksh like the key to the Church! <|c2|hic|c|>
You're a big help, you are.
Oh, yeah? Well, Merry Chrishmash to you, George Bailey!
You aim the pistol at the Doc. But then you think of what a pitiable man he is; an educated gentleman who ended up on hard times; stuck in a one-horse town; practicing medicine on a bunch of hicks, deadbeats and bizarre characters. Jeez, it's like "Northern Exposure!"
Hot dog, ish a whishky pie!
It's an apple pie.
Whishky.
Apple.
Whishky, whishky, whishky!
Apple, apple, apple!
Lishen, if you'd been dipping YOUR nose in whishky all day, you'd shay it shmelt like whishky too!
You try to sober up the Doctor by plying him with coffee.
That shtuff's POISHON! Eat yer shtomach lining right up, poof, yer dead. Thash why whishky's the drink for me. Passhes right through the shtomach lining, shtraight into the blood shtream for fashter asshimilation. Buildsh shtrong bodiesh twelve waysh.
Wussat?
It's a gun-cleaning kit.
It'll never work. The brishles are too shtiff on this brush. Tear the roof of your mouth right out.
GUN-cleaning kit, not GUM-cleaning kit.
So what? It'll shtill tear your mouth up. <|c2|hic|c|>
Whoa! You got bulletsh! <|c2|hic|c|> Are you THREATENING me, George Bailey?
Uh-oh. He's slipped into one of his "Mister Potter" moods.
Well, you don't shcare me! You kin take yer lousy bulletsh and your crummy ol' Building & Loan and get out of my offish!
Wussat?
It's clay.
You're a liar, thash what you are! Ish CLAY!
I guess you're right.
You bet your ash I'm right. Now take it away from me, whatever it is.
Whoa! A shilver medallion! You mus' be shum hotshot!
Actually, it belongs to Srini, my faithful Indian companion.
Ahh, shum hero! Shtealin' from hish own shidekick! <|c2|hic|c|>
Auuugh! You killed the tin man!
What? I made this. This is my ear.
Well, why ishn't it on the shide of your head, where it belongsh?
Good question.
Wussat?
These are my old gunslinging clothes.
I don't want your CHARITY, George Bailey! Gwan back to your drafty ol' Building and Loan! What are you but a warped, frushtrated young man! Go on, run! <|c2|hic|c|> <|c2|belllch|c|>
Oh, yeah. <|c2|hic|c|> That vashectomy will be ready on Tueshday.
What? I didn't order a vasectomy.
Waitaminnit... <|c2|bellllch|c|> Who are you? Wha... you're not Sam! Get outta here!
Say, thanks much, Doc.
Anytime, m'boy, anytime! <|c2|burrrp|c|>
Hey, you shtole my bootsh! <|c2|hic|c|> How did you do that?
These are MY bootsh. I mean, my BOOTS.
Oh. Then what did you do with my whishky?
It's right in front of you. And all over you.
Thash good, lesh keep it that way.
Aauuugggh! A bloody bandage!
It's my lucky red bandanna.
A red banana? <|c2|hic|c|> Don't eat it, ish not ripe yet.
How do you ekshpect me to read thish? <|c2|bellllch|c|> Shumbody wrote all over it.
Ow! Shtop hittin' me with that.
Pyew! Wussat?
It's a sickness bag.
I think shumbody wuz already shick in it!
Whaddayoo want me to... <|c2|hic|c|>... me to do with THAT?
I want to sober you up. C'mon, put this bag over your head or breathe into it or something.
Whuffor? So's I kin shee whut a hellhole of a town I'm shtuck in? So I kin shee whut a mesh I've made of my life?
No, so you can stop writing illegible and incorrect prescriptions ... and get rid of the hiccups.
Thash you all over, you shelfish shwine... alwaysh thinkin' of yourshelf! <|c2|hic|c|>
Aaaaugh! You melted one of the horshes! Ah, you liquidated it, eh? Very reshorshful. <|c2|hic|c|>
Actually, I was hoping the stench would sober you up.
It shmells like roses to me. <|c2|burrrrp|c|>
It's amazing how drunk you must be for this to smell good to you.
I didn't shay it shmelt GOOD! I said it shmelt like ROSE'S! Ish my favorite brand of whishky, I'm drinking shum now.
Arrrrgh! Ish an ear! Wheresh the ranshom note?
This is a wax ear, not a real ear. Does it look anatomically correct to you?
Very convinshing! Of coursh, I knew it was fake all along.
But there's a new aroma about the Doc that indicates that maybe you DID fool him, just for a few seconds!
I can't tell anything about thish, Pharmamarmamarmashist! <|c2|hic|c|> I'd need to shee the preshcription. <|c2|bellllch|c|>
It's "Zircon" Jim Laffer. Years from now, his brother Ezekial will sire a son... who will beget Ethan... who will beget Bartholomew... who will beget Lawrence. That's right! He's Leisure Suit Larry's great-great-grandfather!
Howdy, stranger. New in town?
Hi! I sure am, and I'm looking for a hot time. I've been noticing some of your fine Coarsegold fillies, and I wouldn't mind an introduction! Perhaps you could put in a good word for me with one of them?
'Course, I know a lotta you boys gotta PAY for your fun, but I figger a guy with my looks and breath, hey, they should be payin' ME, y'know? Right?  Right! By the by, my name's Laffer... Zircon Jim Laffer. Don't believe I caught yours.
Whoops, I think I smell something burning, or something. Catch you later.
Whew! What rock did HE crawl out from under?
You prod him, just to see if he's real or some sort of waxwork.
Hey, there! Don't be touching me, fella! Don't want the womenfolk to be gettin' the wrong idear! I'm a MAN'S man, y'know? I mean, I'm a woman's man, but a MANLY man. Say, did I catch your name? Mine's Laffer... Zircon Jim Laffer.
Uh, sorry, I was looking for somebody else.
Whew!
If I give you this, will you go away?
Are you kidding? You give me one of THOSE, and I'll be your friend forEVER! Bosom buddies! Ol' pal, ol' bean! Together, whatever the weather! Two of a kind! You and your shadow! Inseperable!
You hurriedly stick it back in your pocket, rather than face further companionship!
What an excellent idea! But if you do that, Leisure Suit Larry will never have been born, and you'll throw Sierra On-Line into a time-space paradox from which it will never recover.
Sam Andreas owns and runs the Golden Balls Saloon. He's smart, savvy, and generous to a fault.
Well, if it ain't Sam Andreas, the bartender's bartender!
If it ain't, I'm having a severe identity crisis.
How the heck are ya?
Tolerable well. Yourself?
Can't complain. Pharmacy business seems to be pretty good lately.
Ah. Well, the pharmacy business has always been a little TOO interesting for me to hear about, so hey, don't be a stranger.
Say, Sam, I think I'll take an Ovaltine.
In a cracked glass?
Yes, with a hair in it, too.
And the usual lipstick smear on the glass?
Yep, and a ring of dried soap around the inside lip.
On a coaster?
No, I like leaving rings on your bar.
Rocks with that?
No, but some ice cubes would be nice.
We're outta ice cubes.
Then I'll take it straight.
Out of Ovaltine, too.
Oh. Okay, I'll check back later!
Feel free.
Got any Ovaltine in stock yet?
Oh, yes, in the last ten minutes we got in a whole wagonload.
Really? Wow.
No. I was being sarcastic because you were asking a stupid question.
Sam, Sam! Don't let anyone go out on the street 'til I give you the say-so. The town's being smothered in horse gas. I don't know how it's happened, but I'm gonna do something it 'afore we all choke to death.
Yeah, I thought somebody'd burnt some popcorn or something. Silent-but-deadly, for sure. But don't worry about my customers, Fred.  They're not going anywhere.
Sam! There's a stampede headed for town! Don't go outside!
We're open 24 hours a day, Fred. I never go outside. Besides, the sun dries out my beautiful skin.
I'm just saying, y'know, for your own safety.
Gotcha. Tell you what: I'll stay in here and serve drinks and collect money. You run around outside like a chicken with your head cut off and save the town. Okay? Okay.
Sam, have you noticed what's going on in this town?
A-yep.
Sheriff Shift's closed up half the businesses in town, including mine.
A-yup.
Somebody deliberately poisoned the horse's feed with lentils and tried to gas the whole town!
A-yip.
I think somebody's trying to wreck Coarsegold, and us along with it.
A-yeah?
We've got to do something about it. We've got to band together and save ourselves.
A-yup.
And you're just the guy to help me.
A-nope.
Then I guess I'll have to find someone else to help me.
A-mebbe.
Sam, anything unusual going on?
A lot of my customers have headed off to the outhouse to "wash their hands," or so they say.
That can't be so odd.
Well, usually they just wash their hands out against the side of the building. Must be a number two kinda thing.
Hmmm... hmmm...
Sam, come quick! The assay office is on fire!
Geez, Fred, I'd love to help, only I'm watching the saloon.
There isn't going to BE a Saloon if we don't put this fire out.
You'll think of something. Just throw your weight around a little. I'm not worried.
Grrrrrrrrr!
The fire's out at the Assay Office, Sam. You can stop panicking.
Oh, yes, the fire at the Assay Office. I was all in a tizzy for a while there.
Sam, I'm gonna be going away for a while.
OK. We'll forward your mail.
Aren't you going to ask why I'm leaving?
What for? You're going to tell me anyway.
I'm a marked man. Sheriff Shift, P.H. Balance and somebody called "The Boss" are out to get me. So I'm skipping town.
Smart move. Give my regards to Broadway.
To what?
Never mind. Good luck to you.
Howdy, Sam.
You still here? I thought you were leaving town.
I am, I am! Don't rush me! You're not going to see me around these parts. No sir-ee, Bob. I'll be gone with the wind. Outta town by sundown. Whoosh. No more Freddy Pharkas.
Sounds like a plan.
Okay, Sam, you beat it out of me.
Say what?
I'll tell you the truth, because I know I can trust you.
You do, do you?
I'm not REALLY leaving town at all. I'm going to put on a disguise and save the town once and for all. You won't know it's me, though, by the time I'm finished.
Fine.
In case I don't survive, I just want you to know that I respect you tremendously. You're a fine person. I'm honored to call you my friend. 
And you are?
Pharkas! Freddy Pharkas!
Oh, right, right. Well, thanks, Fred, and good luck to you.
Sam! What the devil is going on here?
Do I know you?
How could you let this... this scoundrel... swindle people out of their homes and life savings?
And you are?
I'm Fr... waitaminnit, no, never mind, you don't know me. But the folks of Coarsegold are losing their shirts to this lying, thieving, cheatin', low-down, no-good, scum-sucking drifter!
Please, sir, don't talk that way about the Saloon's new owner.
I just work here now.
If you have any complaints or suggestions, feel free to put them in writing and I'll be happy to pass them along to the new management.
Sam, what's going on outside? You got any idea?
All I know is that someone paid some cowhands to stop in the middle of their cattle drive, come into town and shoot the place up. Dunno why.
It's dangerous out there! A person might get shot!
Duh. But I figure they'll get bored sooner or later, or they'll shoot each other, or something.
Hey, buddy, this isn't that kind of a bar.
No, thanks. That stuff's too strong. I'll stick to grain alcohol as my beverage of choice, thank you very much.
Looks like a roller-skate key to me. But you don't skate, do you? I didn't think so. So I must be wrong, right?
Dammit, Freddy, I'm a Bartender, not a doctor.
Looks like Doc's handwriting to me. But what do I know? I'm a bartender, not a licensed graphologist.
Hmm. One of these days, ol' Doc's gonna get a bit too soused and write a bad prescription, and there's really gonna be trouble. Malpractice insurance can really kill a guy.
Nah, that's enough for Doc. I'm cuttin' him off for the time being. But feel free to keep the souvenir glass.
Say! That's pretty smart. Hope you got a lot of points for that.
Doc's been messing up his prescriptions again, eh? Maybe I should cut him off for a while.
No thanks, Freddy. But hey, if you get in any of that Dissolve-A-Goiter♦, my Mom could use some.
I don't drink on the job.
This isn't beer, this is water.
Yeah, these domestic beers are weak as hell. But hey, I stock what I can get.
If I had a goat, I'm sure he'd thank you. But I don't, so you just hang onto that. Okay? 'Kay.
That's mine, but you can keep it if you want. No ice around here anyway. But hey, if we ever get any icebergs drifting down Blackwater Creek or something, I'm going want that thing back.
Charcoal? Well, thanks muchly, Fred, but I couldn't possibly accept such a gracious gift.
No, but it's a thought.
Well, sleep on it.
A leather strap. You going to try the trick with the chicken, the leather strap, and the trampoline?
What trick is that?
Never mind.
Don't need it, Fred. I figure I'm safe as long as I stay inside and don't use the lower two-thirds of my lungs.
Been making chemical deflatulent again, I see. Well, the only difference between men and boys is the size of their chemistry sets.
I think I'll stick to the usual maraschino cherries, olives, and twists of lime. But hey, thanks for thinking of me.
Hey, Sam! Gimme a case of the beer you just got in from St. Louis!
One case of Loebrau for the pharmacist, comin' up.
Sam hands you a case of Loebrau, "The Beer That Gave St. Louis Blues."
Now, you know that this beer doesn't come corked, right? They're using some new-fangled pinched metal tops.
No problem, Sam. I'll take care of it.
Okay, fine. That'll be $4.87.
Here ya go.
Nice bankroll. Come back anytime.
No refunds, Fred. Like to help, but no can do.
Sorry, Fred. They're no-deposit, no-return.
Bring 'em around in another, oh, ninety years or so, once the recycling laws are enacted.
Got yourself a nice key there. Hang onto it. I use one just like it to open these new-fangled beer bottles!
Let's see. Ladder?
Bingo.
That was fun. Let's play that again sometime.
A rope. Nice. Mine is longer, but of course you had no way of knowing that.
A lasso. You taking up wrangling?
Maybe.
Hm. Can you say, "Yippie-ki-yay?"
Yippie-ki-yay.
I knew you could.
Looks like some sort of water purifier. Nice job. You've made the sewers safe to drink again.
Looks like a pressurized canister of nitrous oxide.
Baking soda? Hey, if it was Baking Soda you wanted, why didn't you just say so? I've got a few tons of it under the counter here, just taking up space.
Sam takes the postcards and quickly thumbs through them...
Got 'er... Want 'er... Got 'er... Got 'er... Want 'er... Got 'er... Want 'er... Got 'er... Want 'er... Got 'er.
He hands the cards back to you.
Hey, you collect melted wax, too?
I hadn't thought about it.
You might want to. You've got a nice start there.
Let's see. It's a knife, right?
Yep.
That was fun. Let's play that again sometime.
Hmm. The last time I saw a key like this, it was sticking out of my roll-top desk at home. But hey, don't listen to me. I'm just a humble bartender.
That looks to me like one of the bank's safety-deposit box keys. But what do I know? I'm a bartender, not a locksmith.
You point the gun at Sam... and fire.
Whoa. I'm scared.
I've got a bullet-proof vest, hombre. I've been working here too long to be caught off-guard.
Hot apple pie?
Yep!
Want some fries with that?
Huh?
Never mind.
Thanks, but no thanks. My doctor tells me caffeine makes me jittery. 'Course, he might just be saying that because he's looking at me through jittery eyes.
A fine cleaning kit you have there, Fred. Keep it. Maybe someday someone'll buy you a gun.
Think a handful of bullets makes you some sort of badass hombre?
Thanks for bringing this by, Fred, but no thanks. Maybe we could use it later, at playtime, after we've had our milk and put our heads down on the tables.
Nifty little medallion. Yours?
Not exactly.
Well. Guess our little Freddy's all grown up and started out on a life of crime.
No, thanks. I'm having mine bronzed. When the time comes, of course.
Is there something wrong with what I've already got on?
Not especially...
Then you hang onto 'em. Besides, I like man-made fibers.
Thanks, it'll be ready Tuesday. Nah, just yanking your reins. I don't know anything about this claim check.
Boots. Thanks for sharing that with me.
You're not going to show me your handkerchief trick, are you?
Well...
Thanks anyway!
Sam scans the letter quickly.
A letter to you from Phil Graves. So? Thanks for sharing it with me.
Yep, I've got one, too. It does get a little deep around here sometimes, doesn't it?
I prefer the less pungent, more mellow, fart-in-a-bag. Thanks for thinking of me, though.
Nice of you to consider me, Fred. But I don't get motion sickness. You hang onto it.
Is this for me? What a pal. Tell ya what, though, why don't you keep it for me? I've already got all that manure that Sadie, Smithie, Doc, and Chester brought me last month.
Looks like you've been doing some lost-wax casting. Not bad, for an amateur.
Doing some lost-wax casting, are you? What a guy.
Nice mold. You're a multitalented individual, Fred.
It's a good likeness, but is it art?
No, thanks. I've always heard it's unsafe to drink other people's prescriptions.
Not in the market, thanks.
Looks like somebody scratched. And badly, too.
You've got more important things to do right now than play with those balls!
This roulette table is for Casino Night.
Now's a bad time to go for a spin. You've got responsibilities!
This dice game is known as Chuck-A-Luck. Since you're living in Coarsegold, you've apparently chucked your luck already.
It won't do you any good. The dice are missing and this isn't Casino Night.
It's a Moose head. The only domestic brand Sam serves!
Glancing around to make sure nobody's looking, you turn to the moosehead and say...
Hey, moose! Decided to quit while you were "a head?" (CHUCKLE)
You chuckle quietly until you hear the moose reply, "Hey, buddy, you're really funny!  Why, that's the first time I've heard that joke... TODAY!!"
It's way out of reach. Just like prosperity.
Here, moosey moosey! Have some cashola!
The moose just looks at you as if to say, "I don't need your money. All I need is a home to hang my head on."
That would certainly be adding insult to injury!
It's a hat rack, where the patrons hang their hats, coats, gun belts... and the occasional short stranger!
It wouldn't do to be caught walking off with somebody's hat, coat, gun belt... or whatever.
This is no time to be messing with that!
It's a likeness of Chastity, one of the girls over at Madame Ovaree's. She's so lifelike, you feel as if you could just reach out and touch her. And you'd save $2.00 that way, too!
Chastity, Chastity, Chastity.
Shh, don't talk to me while I'm painting.
That'll be twenty bucks for a quick feel of the painting.
Sorry. Never mind, then.
Doesn't matter, there's nothing behind the painting anyway.
This is another of the Saloon's rugged, rough-hewn tables. It's reserved for down-on-their-luck losers, imbeciles, sad sacks, hopeless cases, and deadbeats. That is to say: General Admission.
You try to move it, but the layers of beer on the floor only allow it to move an inch or so, making a sound like velcro being pulled apart. If you've ever been to a beer hall or movie theatre, you know the feeling.
The Saloon is filled with rugged rough-hewn tables. This particular one is reserved for rowdy, ugly, nasty and mean drunks. In other words, it's open seating.
This table is glued to the floor by thousands of layers of mostly-dried beer.
This is the Wheel of Fortune table. Guess the right number and Sam will tell you your fortune.
There's nothing on the table worth taking. And the table itself isn't even worth taking.
This honky-tonk piano is 82-and-a-half keys of pure musical entertainment.
Sorry, you're not allowed to play the piano. This is a Union set, folks!
This is a chandelier. Most nights you can find at least one or two drunk 'n rowdy cowhands swinging from this thing. Business must be a mite slow today.
You're not nearly drunk enough to do any chandelier-swinging. And you can't get drunk... you're the Designated Hero!
A beautiful mural from the Starving Artists of Oxnard. They used to hold sales a couple times a year over in the lobby of the Dirty Sheets Hotel.
There's nothing behind the painting (except for a $2.00 price tag).
It appears to be a tiny picture of some field mice playing poker.
What, and steal an original Stuart Little oil painting?
Sam Andreas's burnished maplewood bar is the one bar to belly up to when you're bellying up to more than one!
Try as you might, you can't seem to take the bar. Sam must've nailed it in place so that nobody throws it at nobody else during a brawl. 
Sam has stocked the bar with every brand of cheap rotgut listed in the Mr. Fresno's Saloonkeeper Guide:
Even though you're one of his more refined customers, if you try taking one of those bottles, you'll be doing shots of hot lead the hard way -- directly through the abdomen!
It's the Wheel of Fortune, used mostly on the Golden Balls' Wednesday Casino Night. But don't come in on Tuesday; that's Kink Night. They strap Whittlin' Willy to the Wheel of Fortune, and... Oh, never mind, you don't want to know!
You're tempted to spin the wheel and shout, "Big money! Big money!" But you hate looking like an absolute moron.
This is the world-famous Golden Balls Stage. Most days, you can find major vaudeville acts here, bringing their own unique brands of music, comedy, dance, and magic to the deserving folks of Coarsegold.
That's not the way to get onto the stage. It takes practice, practice, practice.
Welcome to Sam Andreas's Golden Balls Saloon. He was going to call it "Sam Andreas's Nugget," but decided that had disgusting sexual overtones.
Most saloon fixtures won't talk to the customers.
That's Sam's property. Keep your prescription-fillin' hands offa it.
This looks suspiciously like a door.
Say! That's Wheaton "Aces" Hall, the infamous riverboat gambler!
How peculiar. Why would a riverboat gambler, especially one as successful and popular as Aces, come to a two-bit burg like Coarsegold? This can't be a coincidence. Someone must've sent him a wire. But WHY?
How's the game going, slick?
Who wants to know?
Just interested.
Well, it's going very nicely, Justin. I've won the deeds to the Saloon, the Cafe, the School, and several other plots of land. My employer will be pleased. I should have the rest of the town sewn up in a few minutes.
Who's your employer?
Sorry, that information is covered under the terms of boss-hustler privilege.
Doesn't it bother you that you're bilking these people out of their homes and businesses?
I've seen their homes and businesses. Trust me. I'm doing them a favor.
I'm making a citizen's arrest. You're cheating, I know it.
Citizen's arrest? Citizen's arrest? (CHUCKLE)
Don't even try it. The Sheriff knows I'm here. In fact, I have his blessing.
Lay a hand on me and they'll be sifting your corpse for buckshot.
Geez! In Europe, I hear men touch each other all the time, and hardly ever shoot each other for it.
Yeah, well, over here, we're much more civilized.
Get away from me, kid, ya bother me.
You can't shoot him in cold blood, Freddy. It runs contrary to every fiber of your being! Besides, there are better ways to impress the ladies!
It's Doc's whisky glass, mostly empty right now.
You pick up the whisky glass.
It's one of Sam's rickety old tables.
There's nothing on it worth taking, and you can't move it.
It's the table usually reserved for the guys who play poker. And the women who love them!
You're not the type to gamble. In other words, you're POOR!
You don't want to start playing Poker with this guy. He's known far and wide as a cheat. In fact, if you could catch him red-handed, you might be able to stop him before he wins away every last piece of property in town!
There won't be another poker game here for quite awhile.
Ah'm gonna have to arrest yew for attempted murder, stranger. Yew shouldna' oughtta shot him in cold blood like that. Gamblin, ah kin overlook; suspicious accidents, ah kin overlook; unfortunate co-inky-dinks, ah kin overlook. But you shot this boy straight out, son. Hate to hear whut th' Judge is gonna have to say about this! Why, I think yer gonna HANG, boy!
This is a chandelier. Most nights you can find at least one or two drunk 'n' rowdy cowhands swinging from this thing. Business must be a mite slow today.
It's way over your head. Like most of these jokes!
It's Baa-Bara Mandrill and the Baa-bettes, stars of stage, screen and barnyard!
Shear it off! Shear it |c2|ALL|c| off!
Don't touch 'em, you'll throw off their timing. Besides, the lanolin will make your hands soft and squishy like a girl's.
It's Neville Shute, The Piano Player. He's Doing the Best He Can!
Play it, Neville.
Neville, in order not to lose track of the piece he's playing, says nothing. However, he raises his eyebrows as if to say, "Certainly, sir, I'll be happy to play whatever selection you'd care to hear, and what's more, I'll make this old piano sound like a whole orchestra!"
Don't throttle him, he's doing the best he can.
Neville Shute earns a good salary, plus tips. He doesn't need your contributions.
Hey! You're not supposed to shoot him! If you don't like his music,  turn down your volume!
It's Ollie Oxenfree, the guy who owns the fig farms on the northern side of Collier Bluff! He's the worst gambler in town! He'll lose the entire North 40 in no time!
Ollie, listen to me! Don't do it! It's not worth it!
Don't waste your breath. Ollie needs what little concentration he has just to hang onto his farm a few minutes longer.
Ollie ignores you. Apparently he's a little preoccupied with this "losing your home and livelihood" business.
Don't bother trying to distract Ollie with doodads and knicknacks. His attention is firmly established elsewise.
Ollie's not worth shooting. However, he IS worth hanging. Maybe in the sequel?
Hey, these chairs don't have any chewing gum stuck to the undersides! But look out for wads of chewing tobacco.
Those chairs are for drinking customers only, and if I'm not mistaken, you're the Designated Hero this week.
Gambling away his Keg 'n Barrel shop is Cooper "Coop" Cooper. He, his wife, his children, and his parents all work in his barrel shop. He's a cooper, she's a cooper, they're all coopers. (Wouldn't you like to be a cooper, too?)
Hey, Cooper! Don't do it! You'll lose everything!
He ignores you. You're spoiling his lack of concentration!
Don't bother him now, he's trying to recoop his losses!
Cooper apparently isn't interested in "Show 'n Tell."
But... but Cooper's got a wife and kids! Maybe that's why he's in the Saloon?
That's Muff Potter. Nice to see him and Joe getting along again! He owns -- or at least, he DID own until he started gambling today -- a huge tract of land along the south side of town, where Chinatown used to be.
Hey, Muff! Don't play with this guy, he cheats!
Muff nods his head in agreement, then returns to playing. Muff's never been too bright.
Don't poke him right now, he's concentrating on losing everything. And he's doing very well!
Don't bother giving that to Muff. He'll just gamble it away.
You'd shoot poor ol' Muff? Shame, shame!
That's Joe, the guy that had a bad time with ol' Muff Potter a few years back. He owns a local tourist trap. And "trap" it is! He trapped a couple of punks in there a few years back, Tom and Becky something or other. They almost didn't get out. Somebody oughtta write a book about it!
You're gambling the Tourist Center away? Say it ain't so, Joe!
Joe grunts. That's the most you've ever heard him say!
Don't poke this guy. He's mean.
Joe is far too proud and noble to take what you have to give him. He'd rather steal it!
You can't shoot a man for gambling! Well, maybe in SOME states.
Three mean-looking hombres sit up close to the stage. Upon closer examination, you see that they're drinking wine spritzers. Maybe they're not so mean after all.
Welcome to Coarsegold, strangers! I haven't seen you around these parts before. You new in town?
You hear the unmistakable sound of grinding and cracking teeth. You hear the splitting, tearing sound of six severely chapped lips curling up in ugly sneers. You hear the pop of knuckles as three trigger fingers flex in readiness. You decide your friendly, offhand comments have been misinterpreted.
You don't want to touch these hombres. They don't look like they're into close physical contact.
They don't want it.
As you cock the hammers back on your pistols... you suddenly hear a whole CHORUS of pistols make the same sound. You gently ease the hammer forward, slowly, without making any sudden moves. Smart boy.
Without warning, you hear gunshots out in front of the Saloon, plus lots of yelling and shouting. What's going on out there?
The Ballad of the Frontier Pharmacist
     Revolucion Numero 9     
 I've Grown Accustomed to Your Ace 
 Hot Lead in the Old Town Tonight 
   The Varmint of Baghdad   
      Gunrise, Gunset      
     When You Say Blood     
     Zircon Jim's Theme     
      Singh Sungh Blue      
   My Sweet Cranky Ol' Mom   
Play it, Neville. Play...
Rewind
Rewind-O-Matic♦
Be Kind! Please Rewind!
The brass rail runs along the length of the bar.
But you don't know where that bar rail has been!
=== 671.msg ===
Don't bother him. He's sleeping it off. Then, when he wakes up, he'll have a hair of the dog that bit him, and the cycle will begin anew... like the miracle of life itself!
Hey, you wouldn't want to do me a little favor, would you? Kinda distract Aces so's I can get a shot off?
What's in it for me?
Nice 'tude.
You can't reach him now. Throttle him later, once you've settled with Aces.
Goodness, the Saloon sure filled up fast! Practically the whole town's gathered round to see you die a bloody death... I mean, to see you bring Aces to justice!
Don't ask the townies for help, Freddy. The ball's in your court.
There's nothing you can reach from your strategically rotten position behind the overturned table.
Wheaton "Aces" Hall, the infamous riverboat gambler, seems to have you under a barrel!
How peculiar. Why would a riverboat gambler, especially one as successful and popular as Aces, come to a two-bit burg like Coarsegold? This can't be a coincidence. Someone must've sent him a wire. But WHY?
Give yourself up, Aces! I caught you red-handed!
(GEORGE BUSH) Never! Not gonna do it. Nope. Wouldn't be prudent at this juncture.
But I caught you!
Yes, but I ain't goin' nowhere if I can help it! And I warn you, if you shoot me in cold blood, you'll HANG!
Drop your gun and give up! You can't win!
Considering you're the one cowering behind a table, don't you think YOU should be the one giving up?
I'm not cowering!
Could've fooled me.
I'm going to count to three, and when I reach three, you'd better have your hands in the air!
Oh, my, I'm a-scared.
ONE!
You realize, I hope, that the moment you show your head or any part of your body around that table, I'll shoot you dead. You DO know that, don't you?
TWO!
It's no shirt off MY back, of course. The Sheriff'll never arrest ME for murder. We're both on the same team, ya know.
TWO-AND-A-HALF!
Just let me shoot you now. This is embarassing.
TWO-AND-SEVEN- EIGHTHS!
Not to mention tedious.
Okay, apparently you didn't understand me. I'll start over.
Touch me and you'll get a bullet in the heart before you know it.
Geez! Talk about homophobia!
Ah'm gonna have to arrest yew for attempted murder, stranger. You shouldna' oughtta shot at him in cold blood like that. Gamblin', I kin overlook; really suspicious accidents, I kin overlook; unfortunate co-inky-dinces, I kin overlook. But you shot this boy straight out, son. Hate to hear whut th' Judge is gonna have to say about this! Why, yer gonna HANG, boy!
He did it! What a MANLY man! Riverboat gambler in the corner pocket!
Yee-hawwww!
I could have done that if I'd wanted to. I just didn't feel like it, that's all.
Now, when the townsfolk caught wind o' how Aces'd been cheatin', the Sheriff had no choice but to arrest him and return all the deeds. But wouldn' ya know, no sooner had one brouhaha died down than anuther flared up...
Rewind
Rewind-O-Matic♦
Be Kind! Please Rewind!
A brass rail runs along the length of the bar. This is a decorative, if uncomfortable, place for the drunks to rest their heads. It must be made of very hard metal as it has withstood the test of heels for many years.
=== 675.msg ===
Aces' is holding his cards tightly. One of his hands appears unusually stiff. Maybe he's nervous?
Don't touch my cards, Silver Boy. You wouldn't want to be accused of CHEATING, would you?
Despite his slimy demeanor and underhanded undertaking, you can't bring yourself to shoot him point-blank. You'll have to find a better way.
It appears to be a third hand! So THAT'S how Aces is cheating!
Despite his slimy demeanor and underhanded undertaking, you can't bring yourself to shoot him point-blank. You'll have to find a better way.
Wheaton "Aces" Hall, slick big-time, back-East, riverboat gambler, has turned the saloon's friendly poker game into vicious high-stakes gambling, winning money, land, buildings, and businesses from the local bumpkins.
Scoot along, Silver Boy, before I deal you the Dead Man's Hand.
Quit prodding me, stranger. I'll finish with you later.
Take it away. Can't you see I'm busy?
I can see you're up to no good! And I can see you're holding three of a kind, Kings, and the rest of your hand is garbage.
Shut up! Don't listen to him, boys, he's just trying to rattle ya.
Despite his slimy demeanor and underhanded undertaking, you can't bring yourself to shoot him point-blank. You'll have to find a better way.
Aces is clearly winning by a mile. He's piled up a lot of chips, in addition to a pocketful of property deeds!
Hands off that! It's mine, I won it, fair and square!
Are you sure about that?
Am I sure? Am I SURE? I'm the most honest gambler in this town!
(SARCASTICALLY) Oh, like THAT'S saying much!
Ollie's money is dwindling rapidly.
Don't take Ollie's money, he needs all he can get right now.
Coarsegold has really gone to pot now!
Hey, hey, hey. Nobody at this table's gonna take kindly to you walking off with the chips.
That's old Ollie Oxenfree, up close and personal! He's the guy who owns the fig farms on the northern side of Collier Bluff. He's the worst gambler in town! He'll lose the entire North 40 in no time!
Ollie, listen to me! Don't do it! It's not worth it!
Don't waste your breath. Ollie needs what little concentration he has just to hang onto his farm a few minutes more.
Ollie ignores you. Apparently he's a little preoccupied with this "losing your home and livelihood" business.
Gambling away his Keg 'n Barrel shop is Cooper "Coop" Cooper. He, his wife, his children and his parents all work in his barrel shop. He's a cooper, she's a cooper, they're all coopers. (Wouldn't you like to be a cooper too?)
Cooper, please! You can't lose everything, you just can't!
He doesn't speak, but his attitude is clearly, "Oh, yeah? Just watch me!"
Don't bother him now; he's trying to recoop!
That's Muff Potter. Nice to see him and Joe getting along again! He owns -- or at least, he DID own until he started playing -- a huge tract of land along the south side of town, where Chinatown used to be.
Hey, Muff! Don't play with this guy, he cheats!
Muff nods his head in agreement, and keeps playing. Muff's never been too bright.
Don't poke him right now, he's concentrating on losing everything. And doing a damn good job of it, too!
That's Joe, the guy that had a bad time with ol' Muff Potter a few years back. He owns a local tourist trap that really is a "trap." He trapped a couple of punks in there a few years back, Tom and Becky somebody or other. They almost didn't get out. Somebody ought to write a book about it!
You're gambling the Tourist Center away? Say it ain't so, Joe!
Joe grunts. And that's the most you've ever heard him say!
Don't poke this guy. He's mean.
You've got to think of a way to frame Aces!
Leave the frame right where it is. It's doing such a good job of adding to the composition of the image.
Aces is even uglier close-up than he is from afar! Maybe it would help if you squinted.
Shhhh, it's rude to talk to that while the game's in progress.
Get that finger away from me. You're making me nervous. And I don't LIKE people that make me nervous.
This is the poker table. Most of the value of Coarsegold seems to be going from this side to Aces' side.
Hey, keep your hands off the table. And don't make me tell you again.
You're cheating! That's a fake left hand! Your real hand is hidden under the table! You've been feeding good cards into your hand and taking away the bad ones!
Why, yes, silver-eared stranger! You're correct... almost! As you see, I have no cards under the table. I only have this...
Now turn around, silver-ear! I think I'd rather shoot you in the back, so I don't have see that ugly face of yours!
=== 690.msg ===
Sitting behind the counter is P.H. Balance, current owner and operator of The Bank of Bob.
(UNDER BREATH) He's a bore and a lice-infested jerk.
Come again? Did you say something, Pharkas?
I said you were more than just a nice, respected clerk!
Oh. That's very different.
Have I told you about our new Columbus Day account? It's a full benefit, non-interest -bearing account. 
Did you hear about our Easter Club account? We may even make it an interest-bearing account if we can bear to part with the interest!
Yessir, our latest Halloween passbook account is very innovative! We give you zero percent interest and only charge you a nominal fee.
We have a new Yom Kippur savings account. Irving over at the deli in Bass Lake just opened one up. I'm sure he'd recommend it.
You know, this is the last day to be eligible for our interest-free Secretary's Day checking account. It's only $27.00 per month and we bill your secretary!
Soon it'll be time for the Saint Patrick's Day promotion. We give you the account and you give us the green!
Tomorrow's my birthday. Leave me a present and I'll open you a P.H. Balance Birthday Club account!
For Memorial Day, we're letting you remember us by taking your money and hiding it in our vault.
Say, it was too bad about your Pharmacy being shut down. Must be hard to lose a business so sudden like. We here at the Bank of Bob sympathize.
Yeah, I'm sorry about your pharmacy. Maybe you should think about selling up and leaving town. 
Well, I know you can't be coming in to make a deposit here at the Bank of Bob. No business, no money, right? Might as well be selling the old place.
You know, it would be a shame if the Bank of Bob had to foreclose on your Pharmacy. Maybe you could sell it before things get that bad. I might be able to suggest an investor.
How about it, Freddy? Thought any more about selling that run-down store of yours?
You better be selling, Pharkas. Life in the West can get downright dangerous for people who can't pay their way. I could take that place off your hands.  Of course, I'd offer a fair market value. Not that that's much with the market the way it is. But the Bank of Bob wants to be fair.
Come to sell me your store yet?
I don't do business with losers. And you're about to lose, Pharkas. Big time.
Please keep your grubby hands to yourself.
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|Yeah, how would you like me to turn your butt in to the ol' IRS, you goat!|c|
Did you say something?
I said, "How I would love a turn at buttoning your Old Squire's blue coat."
Oh. Thank you, I'll button it myself.
Don't try to sell me any of that bilge water, Pharkas. It's chicanery, pure and simple.
This is privileged information. I shouldn't even be looking at this. Trust you to fly in the face of propriety, Pharkas.
Take that nasty little glass away from me. It's stinking up my class establishment.
Clever, Pharkas, very clever. Hope you got a good many points for this.
My anus sphincter is in perfect health, thank you very much. I move my bowels twice a day, and never strain. What's more, I find your offer most distasteful.
You are a desperate individual, Pharkas. I do not give handouts.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|You are a swine, a cad, and a rank bounder!|c|
What say?
I said, "Your fine Dad was the bank founder."
Oh! Yes, indeed!
Do not attempt to threaten me with your puny ice pick, Pharkas. I have the protection of the local constabulary.
This is trash. Away with it!
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|It's not the ONLY trash in here.|c|
I can't hear you. What was that?
I said, "There's lots of lonely cash in here."
Oh. Whatever you say.
You always were a strapping lad. Heh. heh.
Your concern is misplaced, Pharkas. I'm perfectly safe in here. You may go. And don't permit the door to strike your posterior as you depart!
Are you suggesting that I need something like this? I'll have you know I never expel gas!
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|Maybe you SHOULD, then, before you EXPLODE.|c|
I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.
I'm sorry, I said, "Maybe I should spend more time in the commode."
Oh! Well, I don't want to hear about your personal problems.
Snails? What am I supposed to do with these, deposit them? You're even more demented than I gave you credit for, Pharkas.
I'd be happy to keep it safe in your Christmas Club account here at the Bank of Bob. If you'd open one, that is.
Beer is the beverage of morons. Take it elsewhere forthwith.
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|You worthless waste of space.|c|
Did you just say something?
I said, "Your worth is based on taste."
Oh. Yes, I've invested a fortune in these beautiful paintings!
I don't need any of your castoffs, Pharkas. Throw them out yourself.
I don't recognize that key. It certainly opens nothing around here!
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|Like the key to your generosity.|c|
Say again, please.
I said, "Look at me, I'm a sight to see!"
Oh. You look pretty scrawny to me.
Still trying to get to the top of the ladder, eh, Pharkas? I suppose this is the only way you're going to do it.
You don't have the gumption to tie me up, Pharkas.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|And I don't have enough rope, either!|c|
What was that? What did you say?
I said, "You don't happen to be a dope, either."
Oh. Too true, too true! Heh, heh.
Cease your ridiculous antics, Pharkas. Do I look like a cow to you?
I'm not experiencing any of the lower G.I. problems that so many of the rabble seem to be afflicted with. Therefore, feel free to take that solution elsewhere.
That canister has no redemption value at all. But thank you so much for thinking of us here at the Bank of Bob.
I'm sorry, you backwoods pharmacist. We do not accept large deposits of baking soda!
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|You're full of hot air.|c|
Excuse me? What did you say?
I simply said, "You've got a full head of hair."
Oh. Yes, do you like it? It's imported.
Vulgar displays of pulchritude do not impress me, Pharkas.
(UNDER BREATH) |c2|You're no saint, you no-account rear!|c|
Pardonne moi?
I merely say, "I ain't got no account here!"
Oh. Well, whose fault is that?
I find your wax utterly irrelevant.
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|Yeah, and I find YOU utterly an elephant!|c|
I'm sorry? Please repeat that, I missed it.
I said, "I think you are a hell of a gent."
Oh. Yes!
What damage do you think you're going to do with that little penknife? Just remember, Pharkas, I've got friends in this town. Powerful friends. Not like your flea-bitten pals. So don't threaten me. Your day will come. And soon, too, I guarantee you.
You hand the safe-deposit key to P.H. Balance.
It'll be ready Tuesday. OH! I mean, allow me to fetch your safe-deposit box for you immediately.
You level your pistol at the Banker.
You try it, Pharkas, and you'll wind up hanging from the tallest limb in town. The Sheriff and I are keeping our eyes on you. One wrong move, and you're history.
You lower your pistol. You hate to admit it, but he's right; you'd never get away with shooting him in cold blood.
Don't try to bribe me with pie, Pharkas. I'm not some backwoods hick like some of the folks in this one-horse town.
Thank you, Pharkas, but no thank you. I prefer a more cultured beverage, specifically, tea.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|I hope you choke on your tea!|c|
What did you say, Pharkas?
I said, "I guess the joke is on me!"
Oh! Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it?
What am I supposed to do with this? It's not bankable. Take it away.
(QUIETLY) |c1|You've got your nerve, you dirtpile.|c|
Huh? What was that?
I said, "You've got verve and earthy style."
Oh! That is so!
I do not accept these as currency. In fact, I prefer not to have them in my bank! Please remove them forthwith or I shall have to remove them myself.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|Any stinkin' day, you dried-up horse.|c|
Pardon me? Come again?
I said, "Anything you say. You're right, of course."
Oh! Well, of course I am.
I'm sure this silver is not investment-grade. Nice try, Pharkas. But hang onto it. It probably has great sentimental value. (SNICKER)
It's an interesting trinket, but hardly worth my time. Take it back, Pharkas.
That suit is clearly meant for somebody much scrawnier and less robust than me. Take it away.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|One of these days... bang, zoom!|c|
Did you just say something?
Oh, I just said, "One of these days, banking boom!"
Oh! I certainly hope so.
It'll be ready on Tuesday, Pharkas. Hehe... just making a funny. This isn't redeemable here.
Take those smelly old things away, or I shall be forced to remove you bodily from this bank!
(SOTTO VOCE) |c1|Yeah, you think so? You'd be sorry.|c|
I'm sorry, what did you just say?
I said, "Yeah, they stink like calamari."
Oh! Yes, exactly.
I don't want your smelly old neckerchief! Wrap it around your scrawny li'l chicken gullet or something.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|I sure can't believe you smell so rank!|c|
What was that, Pharkas?
I said, "You sure have achieved a swell bank."
Oh! Why, thank you. I'm proud of it.
Ah, yes, a letter from your worthless crony Mr. Graves. A shame he had to die.
Taking up digging, are we? Couldn't make a go of that pharmacy, eh? I'm not surprised. You haven't demonstrated much business sense.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|I'd like to dig a grave for YOU.|c|
Speak up, Pharkas, I can hardly hear you.
I said, "I'd like to invest my savings with you!"
Oh. I'm sure we can arrange something at a later date.
What is this, your lunch? Take it away, Pharkas, I'm watching my weight.
I don't require a bag for anything. Goodbye.
(SHOUTING) Remove that filth from my bank at once, do you hear? And while you're at it, remove yourself, too!
I don't appreciate you throwing clay around my bank, Pharkas! Please remove it from the vicinity immediately.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|You're asking for it, dude.|c|
What was that?
I said, "As you asked, I was so rude."
Oh! Yes, that is correct!
I do not recall asking you to provide me with your phony nostrums and fraudulent potions. In fact, I believe that's what I'll call you: Freddy Pharkas, Fraudulent Phony! Heh heh!
I'm all done now.
Thank you for using the Bank of Bob.
You see the green flocked wallpaper, rough-hewn wood floor, and tinned tile ceiling of The Bank of Bob, Coarsegold's first (and probably last!) financial institution.
Being a little touchy-feely today, aren't you, Pharkas?
The vault door is two solid feet of case-hardened, high-carbon balsa wood, painted gray to look metallic and fool would-be bank robbers.
Tut tut, Freddy m'boy, y'all can't get in thet door without the combination... I'll be happy to bring out your safe-deposit box, long as you've got the key.
Yes, you could probably dig through the vault door in short order using the ice pick... and then plunder the entire town of its valuables! But you don't have any use for two pieces of rusty costume jewelry and a form letter signed by Millard Fillmore.
Phineas H. Balance has cleverly situated a newfangled box camera up in the corner to photograph customers. Only trouble is, most customers don't stand in one place for 15 minutes.
It's too high up to reach. That's okay, you'd take a lousy shot anyway.
It's P.H. Balance's clock, eternally set to 3:57 so that he can hustle people out of the bank with a "We're closing in five minutes!"
You can't reach it; it's on the wrong side of the gate.
A couple of pretty cameo portraits of P.H. Balance's favorite "pin-up girl."
That Carrie Nation is such a looker!
You'd never get away with them.
A masterful portrait of P.H. Balance's father, Bacillus Ophicleide Balance (or B.O.B. for short). It's got a little plaque. Apparently it doesn't have time to brush between meals.
You're a mean-lookin' sonnuvabitch, y'know that?
Mr. Pharkas, I'm afraid my father cannot hear you any longer... he's been dead for many years now. But I'm sure he would've appreciated your sentiment.
Upon closer examination, you realize that the entire painting is a trompe l'oeil. Even the frame is actually just painted on the wall. "Bob" must've wanted to make sure that he stayed hung.
It's not accessible behind the teller's window.
It's a velvet mural that depicts the driving of the Golden Spike as performed by a toreador and a couple of children with really big, sad eyes.
You don't want it. You saw it at the Starving Artists of Fresno sale and you decided it wasn't worth the $0.14 they wanted for it.
Some sort of large potted fern is standing in the corner.
Hey, you're a healthy one, aintcha?
The plant shifts its leaves slightly as if to say, "Yes, this is a calm, restful environment in which to grow and flourish. It would be perfect were it not for the negative vibrations I receive from that miserly banker. Say, do you have any plant food?"
Do you like it? That's my "plant on premises!"
One of the local plants has been pulled up and potted.
Hey, you're a nice little plant, aren't you? Yes, you are!
The plant rustles its leaves slightly, as if to say, "Aw, g'wan witcha, yer just full of compliments today."
Excuse me there, Mr. Pharkas. Please don't touch the Poison Ivy.
This heavy table is where customers fill out bank slips and examine their safe-deposit boxes.
There's nothing on the desk you need to take.
This quill pen is used to fill out slips and sign registers.
You don't need to sign anything.
There's a register here for new customers. If they sign in, they'll get all the usual brochures prompting them to take advantage of The Bank of Bob's home equity loans and other really smart investments.
Thumbing through the bank register, you discover that little Charlie Keating's kid has an account here!
Hmm. I guess that's how little acorns grow into mighty oaks... one penny at a time.
This authentic mohair rug is much like the one P.H. Balance wears on his head. After all, he needs much mohair than he has!
Nope, no trap doors, keys, dirt or blank checks.
This cute li'l fence separates the "Officials Only" area from the "Customers and Other Unwelcome Guests" area.
That area is off-limits to everyone except people who work at the bank, Mr. Pharkas!
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|I guess that leaves YOU out, eh?|c|
Pardon me? What did you say?
I said, "I guess you've got a lot of clout."
Oh. That is correct, sir!
It's always nice to see a small town like Coarsegold get some big-city tackiness like this horrible chandelier.
I understand that certain ruffians enjoy swinging from the chandeliers, Mr. Pharkas, but if it's not too much trouble, please try to restrain yourself.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|Ah, you're just a warped, frustrated old man.|c|
Pardon me? What was that you just said?
I said, "You're a warm, first-rated old man."
Oh. Yes!
It's Phineas's file cabinet.
Mr. Pharkas, those are Bank files. They're not for your perusal.
(UNDER BREATH) |c1|Right, you depraved, rotten old ass.|c|
Excuse me? What was that you said?
I said, "You're brave and you've got class."
Oh. Yes, that is correct, sir!
These are the tellers' stations.
There's nothing on the counter to take.
Wanna sell me your property? You won't regret it!
      Yep. I want the cashola!      
 And give up my dreams of herohood? 
      Never, you CAD!      
Someone's head was accidentally rapped sharply against the plaster here, during an ugly incident in which a customer asked for free checking.
Don't pick at it! You'll only make it worse.
=== 700.msg ===
You'd forgotten... you used your old lucky neckerchief to wrap those pistols in!
You take your lucky neckerchief out of the safe deposit box. Now you're REALLY beginning to feel lucky!
Wait a minute, the last time I wore this was when Kenny shot off my ear back in St. Louis.
Well, okay. So maybe it's not THAT lucky a neckerchief!
These are your two gunslinger pistols, left over from your salad days. You know... those days when you were still green!
You lovingly lift your pistols from the box where they've spent the past decade.
It's your safe deposit box. You haven't even LOOKED in this box for... what, ten years now? Ever since you moved to Coarsegold!
You don't need to put anything in the safe-deposit box. Your future is too uncertain to store anything long-term!
=== 710.msg ===
It's the honorable Sheriff Checkum P. Shift, trying to invent "coffee and donuts."
Sheriff!
Pharkberg! Whudda YEW want?
Why'd you close down the Dirty Sheets Hotel?
Whut's it to ya?
Well, I... I'm a little worried about the tourist trade, and...
It's not yer place to worry about the "tourist trade," bwoy! Leave that to ME! Now, as fer the Hotel, IF it's any o' yer business, it wuz attractin' the wrong sorta bizniz... transients, hobos, people of low moral fiber. Cain't be havin' none o' THET goin' on in Coarsegold, can we?
But at the rate these places are closing down, there won't be any town LEFT in a matter of days!
Lissen to me, bwoy. Thet ain't none of my never mind. I'm jus' lookin' to make this place as SAFE as kin be. So if I gotta close down a place or two, welp, y'all will jus' hafta live with that.
<|c3|Hoccccccccccck...|c|> <|c3|pa-tooey!|c|>
The spittoon makes a resounding "ping!"
Sheriff, I don't understand how the Opera House was making Coarsegold unsafe.  Why'd you close it down?
They was showin' SMUT in there, and it wuz attractin' the wrong kinda customer!
Smut? Like what?
Chaucer! Rebelais! Baaaaalzac!
And furthermore...
Whut the Sam Hill do yew want now? Don't you have customers to git to, Pharkenstein?
Yes, but I don't see why you had to close down the Tall & Thin Shop! What in the world was wrong with THAT?
Lissen to me, bwoy. Tall & thin folks are SNEAKY.
Oh, that's ridiculous.
It's NOT ridiculous! They look down on everbuddy, and when they wanna sneak around, they turn sideways towards ya so's you cain't hardly see 'em! Luckily, their collarbones break more easily than most folks', so's you kin' whup on 'em realll good.
That's the most insane load of horse manure I've ever heard.
Nobody's askin' yew to believe it, bwoy. Iffn yew don't like how ah'm running this town, why, yew jus' go right on and leave. In fact, ah should be seein' yew about this VERY soon, bwoy. VERY soon.
Sheriff, do YOU aim to do anything about the flatulent horses out there?
Not much ah CAN do, Pharkwat. Yew cain't go 'round pluggin' up the horses, they'll explode. We'll jus' have to set tight 'til they get over it.
But the town will be gassed to death by then! We've got to take action NOW!
I AM takin' action, bwoy! Ah'm catchin' up on m' office work! Cain't go outside anyways 'til this whole thang blows over! HYUK HYUK! I made a funny there! "Blows over." Git it? Git it?
You're a big help.
That's whut I'm here fer, bwoy.
Sheriff, if you're not going to help these people, then I am.
Yew do whut yew hafta, bwoy. Iffn yew think yew kin cure them horses 'afore evvabuddy gits gassed, yer welcome to try! <snicker>
Sheriff! Are you going to help me stop that stampede before it runs over the whole town?
Now look here, Pharkblatt! Stoppin' them horses from pootin' the town away wuz all well and good, but yew cain't stop a stampede, can ya? Why, there's nuttin' to be done but batten down the hatches and hope fer the best! Me, I figure I'm safe in here, this's the only buildin' in town made outta rock! You go save yer own butt, bwoy, or git outta town like the smart folks are doin'.
Dag nab you, Sheriff! You're not doing ANYTHING to help!
Why, shore ah am! Ah'm refusin' to PANIC!
Grrrr.
Sheriff, I'm not jokin'. Get a posse together! We can round 'em up, I KNOW we can!
Y'all mus' think ah'm CRAZY, bwoy! Yew wouldn't catch me outside this office 'til thet stampede is over! Now git along!
Welp, Sheriff, I stopped that stampede, no thanks to you.
Say WHUT? But... how?
A little Yankee ingenuity. Something you wouldn't know anything about.
Hey hey! Yer beginnin' to really PIDDLE ME OFF, bwoy! Yer spozed to be shuttin' down yer Pharmacy and leavin' town, yer NOT spozed to be runnin' around like the flippin' Lone Ranger, savin' people right and left! Ah don't wanna hafta -- ah sez, ah don't wanna hafta talk to yew about this AGIN! Fer yer own safety, just vamoose!
I don't suppose you could help me rescue an Indian from an anthill?
No, ah don't suppose ah could! There's places in town whut need more fire inspections. Git along.
Sheriff, I know you couldn't care less, but folks around town are having some sort of mysterious stomach ailment.
Welp, guess the water in these parts has gone sour. Ain't no surprise, really, it were bound to happen sooner or later. I figger those that don't die from the dysentery will jus' have to pull up stakes and find someplace where the water's good.
I don't think that's it at all. I think somebody poisoned the water. If you were any kind of Sheriff, you'd look into it.
HYUK HYUK! Like yew know ANYTHANG about bein' a Sheriff! 'Sides, ah know the water ain't poisoned, ah had some m'self awhile ago.
I'm going to cure the poor folks of this town if it's the last thing I do!
Yep, an' it's gonna BE the last thing yew do iffn yew don't stop MESSIN' AROUND with the fine people of Coarsegold!
Messing around? I'm trying to SAVE them, dammit!
|c0|Yew cuss at me one mo' time and ah'll throw yew in jail so fast yew'll be BEGGIN' me to let yew quit, restore or restart!|c|
I apologize.
That's better. See? Now we kin all be friends.
Sheriff, I'm going to be saying my goodbyes soon, and I just wanted to thank you for all your help.
Don't mention it, bwoy! Iffn ah kin do anything to make yer departure more hasty or pleasant, feel free to ask!
Sheriff, I'll be leaving shortly. Thanks for the ammo and cleaning supplies.
Yep, yep, sure, sure, glad to help, whutever yew say, bon voi-ah-gee.
Sheriff!
Yeah? Do I know you?
I'm Fr... I mean, I'm 'fraid you've got a problem.
Oh, do I? What problem would that be? Seems to me mah BIGGEST problem already left town! Jus' got a lotta little ones left.
You've got an infamous riverboat gambler in your Saloon, gambling up people's property.
Nothin' illegal 'bout that. Nobuddy's forcin' anyone to gamble.
But he's CHEATING!
Welp, I spoze if yew wuz to CATCH him cheatin', ah might have to run him in. But he's very good, ah don't think yew'll catch him. He came highly recommended.
What do you mean?
Nothin', nothin'.
I'm going to have to bring that gambler to justice!
Hey, mister, ah don't want any trouble 'round here. Don't yew go shootin' nobody, I'll hafta run you in. Yew let thangs take their nacheral course.
Hey, Sheriff Shift!
Well, if it ain't the fella whut caught "Aces" Hall! Whussup?
Don't you know? Your entire town is being shot up by a bunch of rowdy cowhands!
Yep! Aren't it awful? Evvabuddy in town who don't git shot up is gonna git skeered away! HAW HAW! I hate it!
I don't understand. Why do you want everyone to leave Coarsegold so badly?
Oh, it ain't ME, Stranger. It's m'boss, the one who already owns half the property in town and wants the rest of it.
But why? Why would anyone want a broken-down piece of underdeveloped property like Coarsegold?
Ah'm afeared that ain't none of yer business, pard.
Well? Are you going to stop those rowdy cowhands?
Hell no, bwoy! Ah'm gonna let 'em do their business, then ah'm gonna collect m'cut and git outta this town! And ah'd advise YEW to do the same!
Hey hey hey, bwoy! Don't be tichin' me. We's a pretty macho bunch in this town... iff'n yew don't know thet by now, yew better lern pretty quick! Leastways, not with the window open!
Yew tryin' to peddle yer potions door-to-door, Phartkis?
No, no, this is Dad Gumm's Elixir. I found it on his wagon; I don't even carry the stuff.
Welp, that's fine, bwoy, yew jus' hang onto it. Wouldn't want one of children gettin' ahold of it, would we?
Why, that's ol' Doc Gillespie's whisky glass! I'd rekanize that anywheres!  Whut you doin' with it, Pharmakas?
I'm saving him from himself.
Thet's the stoopidest thang I ever heard. Cain't save someone frum themSELF. How could yew git away?
That's a fine bit o' detective work, bwoy! Yew get sum big-time points fer that one?
Sure did!
Well, thet's fine, jes' fine. Now skedaddle on back to yer Pharmacy there, Pharsky, an' I'll be over in a li'l while.
I cain't read thet, Pharphetcht. Yew know ain't nobody 'round here kin read that ol' drunk's chicken scratchin'. And say, that reminds me. Ah'm gonna be stopping 'round at the Pharmacy a little later. Hope yew don't mind. Thet's fine, bwoy, jus' fine. Ah'll be seeing you later, then.
Need anything for your piles, Sheriff?
If I WANTED sumpin' fer m'piles, I'da come inna yer store and AST ya fer sumpin'! Which reminds me, ah'll be payin' yew a visit shortly. Yew best be in when I gets there.
Certainly, Sheriff. Anything to help.
That's whut yew say now! HAW HAW HAW!
Ah don't drink beer on duty, bwoy!
It's nothing but water. I took it from the water tower.
Then ah SU
cure them horses?
Why, of course! That's what you want, isn't it? You don't want the poor folks of Coarsegold to choke to death, do you?
(SPUTTERS) Well, I...
Well, Sheriff? I'm waiting for an answer. Is that what you want?
(SPUTTERING) Why, I... I mean... you... I mean, NO! Of COURSE thet's not whut I want! An' anything you kin do to alleviate our current sichyation will be appershiated. MOST appershiated, Pharkle. Now take your little mask and git outta here. I got work ta do!
Whaddaya call thet, Pharkwas?
It's "deflatulizer." It'll cure the horses of their terminal flatulence.
Oh. Well, thet's reallll good, bwoy, reallll good. You done the town a service. An' I ain't gorna forgit it. Nosiree bob. Ain't gorna forgit it.
You like snails, Sheriff?
I hates 'em! They're mean, slimy li'l critters.
Takes one to know one, eh, Sheriff?
Whut? Quit talkin' crazy talk, bwoy. Yew bin out in the sun too long.
Yer not tryin' to BRIBE me to let chew open yer store back up, are ya?
What if I were?
If yew wuz, I'd have to ARREST ya fer tryin' to bribe a SHERIFF! Then ah'd hafta toss ya in the HOOSEGOW! Then ah'd hafta HANG YA. So ah'll ask ya again, wuz yew tryin' to BRIBE me?
No. I was asking you to look at this money and give me your assessment of whether or not it's counterfeit.
It ain't. And thank kyew so much fer askin'! Right proper of you.
Ah never drinks when ah'm on-duty, bwoy. Whut kinda lawman yew think I AM, anyway?
Well, I...
Yew think, jes 'cuz ah'm MEAN, I'm STOOPIT? Ah got loaded weapons here, bwoy! Ah gotta be alert! Cain't be out-drawin' no varmints wif a skull full o' MUSH, bwoy! Now git yer patootie OUTTA here 'fore ah has to remove it fer ya!
Yer not plannin' any vandalism with those thangs, are yew, bwoy?
Of course not, Sheriff! Do I look like the kind of person who'd break bottles frivolously, for target practice or something?
I spoze not, yer too much of a goody-two-shoes fer thet, aintcha? Welp, jus' keep those away from the kids. Dang vandals, every one of 'em.
Sheriff Shift eyes you suspiciously.
'Zat YER key, bwoy? Yer not STEALIN' no keys now, are ya?
Sheriff! Do I look like the kind of person who'd steal ANYthing?
Welp... I spoze ya don't. In fact, ya look too chicken to steal a kiss from a miss.
Thet looks suspiciously lahk the ladder Miz Primm wuz sayin' wuz taken from the schoolhouse playground! Lemme see the serial number on thet ladder.
There isn't any serial number. I, uh, made it m'self.
Oh. Well, thet's OK, then. Carry on, bwoy.
Yew tryin' to tie me up, bwoy?
No, I'm trying the old rope-a-dope trick.
That's boxin', bwoy, not ropin'! HAR! Yew pretty dumb, yew know thet?
Jumpin' Jehosophat, bwoy, yew tryin' to hogtie me?
What if I am?
Walp, ah'd say you were pretty pitiful with a lasso!
Whut you got there?
It's a water purification solution. It'll help alleviate the town's gastric troubles.
Lemme git this straight. That there stuff's gonna alleviate the town's gastric troubles?
Uh, I believe that's what I just said. That IS what you want, isn't it? You don't WANT the whole town to die of dehydration from excessive diarrhea, do you?
<Sputter>
I mean, nobody would've PURPOSEFULLY poisoned the town's drinking water, right? So I wouldn't be BOTHERING anybody by purifying the water, would I?
You... I mean, the whole... That is... Well, NO, for corn sake, that's just PERFECT, Pharquar, just flippin' PERFECT. Go ahead an' CURE the whole dang town. That's right neighborly of you. RIGHT neighborly.
Yew tryin' to gas me with thet thang?
Yes, only I can't get it open. Would you open it for me?
Whut, so's you kin turn around and gas me with it? Hyuk, hyuk, yew must be dumber than yew look!
Ha, ha! But not dumber than YOU look, right, Sheriff?
Haw haw! Yer darn tootin', bwoy, darn tootin'!
Whoa there, son! You must have some whopper of a bellyache there!
Actually, I was kinda hoping I could bury you underneath all this baking soda.
Hyuk hyuk hyuk! You ain't gotta snowman's chance in hell of doin' THET, bwoy! Ah may be short, but I'se wirey!
Say, these are sum purty li'l fillies!
Yes, would you be willing to trade something for 'em?
Nope! Got m'self a photographic memory. Got 'em all memorized. Thanks much, bwoy!
Yew fixin' to do sum candle-makin'?
Not exactly.
Walp, nice to know you gotcherself a hobby. Everbuddy needs a hobby. Y'know whut my hobby is?
Nope.
It's makin' life miserbul for pipsqueaks. Yew know whut a pipsqueak is, dontcher?
Yep.
Gooood. Word to the wise, Furpiece. Catch ya later, bwoy.
HEY NOW! Yew jabbin' thet thang at me!
No, no, I wasn't.
THERE! Yew done it AGAIN!
No, no, no. I'm just practicing my knifework.
Welp, take it OUTSIDE, bwoy! Take it OUTSIDE! Jehosophat, bwoy, iffn I didn't know yew wuz a chicken, ah'd thank yew wuz tryin' to ventilate muh spleen!
Now jus' hold on a cotton-pickin' minute. Yew mean to tell me that yew, some kinda Western Hero, is jus' gonna walk in and shoot the Sheriff in cold blood? No fair fight, no shootout in the middle of the street, no nothin'? Does that sound like a act of a Hero? Or does it sound like the act of a coward?
Uh, coward, I guess.
Yew bet your boots. Let's just pretend that whole thang didn't happen, shall we? Let's see if yew kin get through this whole thang without shootin' anyone outright. 'Kay? 'Kay.
Here you go, Sheriff. Another nice, hot cup of coffee.
Yew blind, bwoy? Cain't you see ah've already got a cuppa coffee here ah ain't drunken yet? Git that thing away fum me!
I tole yuh, it's YERS, bwoy! Now take it and shimmy yer butt outta town afore we gotta shimmy it FER ya!
I tole' ya, bwoy, those 'r on the house! Now take 'em and head on outta town, buckaroo, 'afore you git hurt.
You toss the clay at the Sheriff.
What in tarnation? Hey, Pharmhouse! Dontcha be throwin' yer mudpies at ME, bwoy! Hell's bells, son, g'wan back ter elementary skool iffn yer gonna start playin' wif clay! Geeeeez. I dunno why we's even worrying about this fool, he's jus' a case of arrested develupmint.
Wail, ah'll be a monkey's uncle. Gotcherself a holda some real silver there, ain'tcha?
I believe it is, yes.
Well, if thet ain't sumpin' special. Y'all mus' be as pleased as punch. Why don't you CELERBATE, bwoy, by gittin' OUTTA TOWN BY SUNDOWN? I think thet's a RIGHT good idea! A change of scenery do you a WORLD o' good, bwoy. Might even save yer life! HAW HAW HAW! Hyukhyukhyukhyuk!
You outdone yerself fer stoopidness this time, bwoy. Thet's the dumbest-lookin' silver ear I ever seen. It's all crooked and ugly.
I guess you would know, wouldn't you, Sheriff?
Say what?
Never mind.
Why, thet there's a fine, spankin' new turquoise 'n beige cowboy suit yew got there, sonny bwoy! Didjer MOMMY sew it fer ya? HYUK HYUK HAW! HYUK HYUK HAW!
That's a very good donkey imitation, Sheriff. Do you do horses?
The Sheriff stops laughing and eyes you narrowly.
Don't be wisin' off to me, Paraquat. I got yer number, see? I bin keepin' my eye on yew. And let me tell yew sumpin'. I don't lahk yew. Yer a do-goodin', high-falutin' sunnuva gun, and we don't lahk yer kind in these parts. So watch yer back, bwoy. I'm watchin' yew. I'm ALWAYS watchin' yew.
Y'all should be stoppin' back on Tuesday, bwoy! Yor boots'll be ready then! HYUK HYUK! Just joshin' ya, son, ah dunno where this thang come from.
Them's sum pretty dooded-up boots ya gots there, son! Them suckers your'n?
A-yep. I mean, yes.
Well, well, well! Mebbe I misjudged ya. Mebbe wif them stunnin' turquoise 'n beige boots, yer a real honest-to-gorsh GUNSLINGER! HAW HAW HAW!
I think you're being sarcastic.
Wal shoot, bwoy, mebbe ah am, mebbe ah ain't. It kinda depends on what "sarcastic" means.
My, my! Whut a purty hanky you got there!
It's my lucky neckerchief, not a hanky.
Well, whutever yew callin' it, bwoy, it's right purty. Why, you could even sop up yer own blood with it if yew had to! That IS a lucky hanky, ain't it? Let's hope you never gotta do nuthin' like that! It'd be a shame to stain such a purty hanky! Wouldn't it now? Hyuk hyuk haw!
This thang ain't got no pictures or conversations innit! Whut the devil's the use of a letter wifout pictures or conversations innit? Bor-ring, Pharmhand, bor-ring!
Whoa there! Yew almost took mah head off with thet there shovel!
Oh, sorry. Let me try again. I'm sure I can get it right this time.
Whut? Stop talkin' garbage, bwoy. You'se stoopit.
Pharkist! Whut the Sam Hill are yew tryin' to do, gas me? Ah'm sufferin' as it is, whut with m'front window permanently open! Take that bagga gas outta here 'afore I pass out!
Here, Sheriff. I thought you might like to try putting this bag over your head. It'll make your appearance more pleasing.
Pharmakus, iffn ah didn't know better, I'd swear you'se tryin' to insult me. But yer not clever enuf fer that, areya?
No, Sheriff, I'm much too much of a dullard for that.
Yeah, thet's whut I thought.
Pharsight! Yew are a sick pig, yew know thet? Take that maggot-infested thang outta this here govermint office 'afore I has to THROW you out!
Walp, if this ain't the stoopidest hunk o' lost-wax castin' I ever did see! An ear? Who you fixin' to fool with THAT thang, Pharkum?
I know I could never put one over on YOU, Sheriff.
You kin bet yer boots -- I sez, you kin bet yer boots -- on THAT!
Well lookee here, it's arts and crafts time with everbuddy's favorite Pharmacist! Thet's a loverly piece of clay-and-wax sculpture there, bwoy! Yew gonna go FAR! And if you don't git outta town SOON, yew gonna go farther then yew THOUGHT! HAR HAR HYUK!
Well, looks like yew'll have a new line o' work onct you git outta town, bwoy... carvin' prosthesises! That is, iffn yew git outta town IN ONE PIECE! Haw haw haw!
Tryin' to POISON me, bwoy? Do I LOOK sick? I don't THANK I look sick! Wuz I sick wiffout mah KNOWIN' it?
I don't think so.
Yew bet yer prescription-filling BEHIND yew don't thank so! Now don't you be slippin' me none of yer medications agin, or ah'll be VERY unhappy witchoo. Yew hear me, bwoy?
I hear ya.
GOOD!
The Sheriff's big old desk is cluttered with all sorts of crime-fighting paraphernalia... just in case the Sheriff decides to fight some crime someday.
Keep your hands offn m'crap, Parakwat.
Pharkas.
Whutever.
Sheriff Shrift has tastefully decorated his window in the fashionable "Noveau Leavenworth" style.
Them there bars're mortared in place nice and tight, bwoy! No amount of tuggin's gone budge 'em. Jes' give that one up right NOW.
That's the jail cell, where Sheriff Checkum ("Chicken") P. Shift tosses the bad guys. With the town's population dwindling, there haven't been many occupants lately.
Yew wantin' to spend a night in the hoosegow, son? I think that can be arranged, hyuk hyuk!
It's supposed to look like authentic Western masonry, but it's really a fiberglass polymer, nice and light and perfect for Western sets like these.
They're cee-mented in place, Pharkberg. Do yer worst, y'cain't hardly move 'em.
Technically, the fiberglass polymer set is all one piece, so you can't move it.
Those are the Sheriff's six-guns. Actually, they're revolvers and rifles... but there are six of them!
Hey, Porkers! Them's my official shootin' irons, an' yew don't wanna be touchin' 'em. I could clap you in irons fer thet.
This looks like a table.
Yew break it, yew bought it! Hyuk, hyuk.
The Sheriff keeps this lamp lit so's he can read his procedural manuals and see the pictures REAL good.
Leave it be, Pharmint, I gotta see muh penal diagrams good.
The Sheriff hung his hat and long coat on the rack.
Y'all jus' leave them duds alone, bwoy. You knows I like you, bwoy, but you go pokin' 'round in a man's privates, I takes your hand off in nuthin' flat, bwoy, jus' like that.
Some of the Sheriff's law-and-order books: PentUpHouse, Letters to PentUpHouse, PentUpHouse Pets, PentUpHouse Forum, Female Convicts in Bondage, Babes 'n Bars, and Debbie Does Cell Block D.
Leave 'em be, Pharkmeister, y'all ain't got no business stickin' your nose in mah penal codes.
This is where the Sheriff keeps his trade journals.
Hey! Pharberg! Y'all keep yer hands offn mah bookshelves.
Wouldja mind not tearin' that down, Pharkem? I ain't caught that critter yet.
It's an old Register clock.
It don't need windin', Barkus, it's one of them clocks what winds itself from the constant vibrations of California's shaky tectonic plates.
This turn-of-the-century Sheriff's office is manned by a real turn-of-the-century Sheriff.
You can't commune with the environment in that fashion.
Whut choo lookin' for, bwoy?
That's an old trunk, dated back to the 1870s. Actually, in that case, it's pretty new!
If yew get that thang open, Pharkly, let me know. It's bin locked fer years.  Nuttin' in it, as fur as I know.
That's the key to the Pharmacy, not the key to this trunk. There IS no key to this trunk! It can't be opened!
You can't open the trunk with the ice pick. In fact, you can't open the trunk at all.
That key doesn't work with this trunk. Anyway, there's nothing in the trunk.
There's no need to pry the trunk open with the knife. There's nothing inside the trunk.
That's not a trunk key. In fact, there IS no key to this trunk. Just leave it alone.
That key won't open this trunk. There's nothing in this trunk anyway! Leave it alone!
There's no reason to shoot the trunk open. There's nothing inside.
This is the Sheriff's spittoon, where he gets most of his target practice.
Drop it, Pharkenstein. I'm startin' a collection.
Y'all mind leavin' thet thang up there? Whenever I feel m'self gettin' soft, I jes' look at that ugly varmint and get the ol' fires stoked up again.
It's an old bucket. Sheriff Shift occasionally likes to soak his feet.
Quit pokin' 'round in muh foot-soaking tub, Pharkblatt, unless you wuz goin' to soak muh feet fer me. Hyar, hyar!
Say, Sheriff! I know how much a law enforcement person like yourself enjoys a good hot cup of coffee every now and then.
Thanks, pardner! But 'cha know what? Sumptin sweet would shore taste good right now!
Why, I bet that's true. I'll be glad to try and find you something to munch on. But, in the meantime, I've been thinking about moving to another city. But, I've got no bullets. I was wondering if you have any bullets that would fit an old .45?
Whey, shore, son. Here. Have a box o' these Remingtons! No charge; they're on the County.
Here's what you wanted, Sheriff. A nice hot cup of Mom's coffee.
Thanks, pardner! This'll shore go good wit' dat apple pie you gave me!
You are most welcome, Sheriff. Say, you wouldn't happen to have a spare gun cleaning kit, would you? These old pistols of mine are dirty as sin!
Okay, son. But this gun cleanin' kit'll be the last thing I give ya. Now git chur pistols cleaned, git chur horse packed up and git chur ass outta town!
Here, Sheriff Shift. I know how much a law-enforcing person like yourself appreciates a good fatty dessert-like foodstuff for breakfast.
Whey, thank cue! I bin so hongrey I coulda et a bear! But, do ya think I could git a cuppa coffee to go with this?
Why, sure, Sheriff. But, in the meantime, I've been thinking about moving to another city. But, I've got no bullets. I was wondering if you have any bullets that would fit an old .45?
Whey, shore, son. Here. Have a box o' these Remingtons! No charge; they're on the County.
Here you go, Sheriff Shift. I found some of Mom's nice hot apple pie for ya.  I know how much a law-enforcing person like yourself enjoys sweet, fatty breakfasts.
Whey, thank cue! I bin so hongrey I coulda et a bear! This'll shore go good with that cuppa coffee ya brung me earlier!
Uh, Sheriff? do you have anything I could use to clean these old guns of mine before I leave town? They're mighty dirty and I want to be prepared for my long journey!
Okay, son. But this gun cleanin' kit'll be the last thing I give ya. Now git chur guns cleaned, git chur horse packed and git chur ass outta ma town!
The Sheriff's favorite desk chair has, over the years, just about welded itself to the floor.
You can't move the chair legs. They've become part of the floor. Sheriff Shift isn't exactly a go-getter.
That's the stolen apple pie you gave Sheriff Shift.
It ain't et yet!
That's the cup of coffee you thoughtfully provided to the Sheriff.
Ah'm not done drinkin' it yit, Pharquar!
=== 720.msg ===
You see Penelope in a whole new light, now that you know what a cad and a bounder she is! That angelic face belies the vicious, calculating, cold-hearted murderer she really is! But, hoo boy, you still wouldn't mind those lips touching yours, and... NO!  Stop thinking that way! She's a bad girl! BAD girl!
Can't we talk this over?
There's nothing to talk about. You've interfered with my plans once too often!
There's no way you'll be able to grab her gun before she can pull the trigger.
A child's slate sits rests on a nearby desk.
When I say "Drop 'em," I mean "Drop 'em!"
When Freddy stepped inside, Penelope wuz standin' at the desk, packin' in a hurry. She didn't even notice him come in. Gazin' at her like that, Freddy saw her fer the conniving snake-in-the-grass she really wuz.
HEY, PENELOPE! What gives??
Oh... why, it's you! The silver handsome-eared stranger!
Handsome silver-eared stranger, you mean.
Oh, right! I... uh... I thought Kenny'd taken care of you...
Are you kidding? He did just the OPPOSITE. He HURT me! Just look at my ear!
Why, you poor man... you poor, brave cowboy... you're wounded. Here, allow me to tear a strip off my undergarment...
Penelope slowly moved her hands up to her bodice... and began to carefully unbutton it... one button at a time... staring straight into Freddy's eyes...
You know, ever since I saw you capture that big, bad gambler at the Saloon, I've been thinking about you... thinking about how I wanted you...
She slowly slipped her hands under the fabric.
Could this be MY Penelope? Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
...thinking about how I |c2|needed|c| you...
And before Freddy knew it, Penelope yanked a Derringer from her bosom and aimed it at him!
...DEAD, that is! Drop 'em, gunslinger! NOW!
You grab the slate, and whip it around just in the nick of time!
As you bend down to pick up your gunbelt, Penelope hurls the Derringer straight at your head!
You resignedly unbuckle your holsters, letting your guns slip to the floor. Penelope appears to relax a little, but her finger is still on the trigger of the Derringer. Looks like she might shoot at any moment!
A couple of Civil War swords, or at least fabulous replicas from the Frankenheimer Mint, are mounted high up on the wall.
There's no way to reach that when Penelope's got a gun pointed straight at you!
It's a copy of AMERICAN HISTORY FROM THEN 'TIL NOW. All 33 pages' worth!
Now's no time to brush up on the American Revolution! All 33,000 deaths worth!
This is the one-room schoolhouse. It's a lot dingier and darker on the inside than it looked from the outside... just like Penelope!
Now's not the time for idle chit-chat! It's time for ACTION!
That won't help you |c0|now|c|, Freddy!!
It's a fascinating book about Puff and Spot... a dragon and a soda-pop character. You've got no time for Sex Ed right now!
You've got no time to brush up on your reading skills!
It's all about Bob, Dick 'n Jane. And how much fun it was for Bob and Jane!
Some old camel's hair paintbrushes sit on the shelf. Just in case the kids decide they want to paint some camel hair!
This is no time for arts 'n crafts!
The latest and greatest American Flag stands limply at attention. A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to you!
This would be a terrible time to wrap yourself in the flag! It has a very low armor factor!
There's a large chalkboard on the wall behind the teacher's desk.
Wait 'til the teacher calls on you. And somehow, you don't think she will!
Looks like somebody started a very nice portrait of George Washington... the Father of Plywood Dentures!
Now's no time to be taking pictures!
That's one of the hanging lamps that helps illuminate the peaceful, yearning, upturned faces of the ignorant and uneducated... who come in on Parents' Day to see how their children are doing.
There's more than enough light for you to see what you need to do.
You see row upon row of quaint school desks, complete with one-piece bench, desktop and ink well. Eww, one of 'em still has a pigtail stuck in it.
You briefly consider throwing or hiding behind a desk, but decide instead that cool concentration and cunning are the secrets to bringing this encounter to a quick and just conclusion.
The left window is closed.
What are you trying to do, beat a hasty retreat? Deal with the problem at hand, Freddy!
This window's propped open.
Your life is in jeopardy. Don't make things worse by making the room stuffier. And no, you can't escape by leaping from the window! Penelope would run you through the moment you turned your back.
This stove keeps the kiddies warm in the winter, and dries their mukluks.
The stove is cold and empty. How like Penelope's heart!
Some old chunks of hardwood sit in the scuttle.
Neither the chunks of wood nor the scuttle itself will help you out this mess!
It's a rickety wooden bucket, long past usefulness and into the "quaint decor" mode.
The old wooden bucket isn't sturdy enough to be of any use.
There's a large, colorful map of California on the wall.
You can brush up on your geography |c0|later!|c| Have you tried playing "Gold Rush?"
There's a small map of the United States. Have you noticed how California, on the map to the right, appears to be larger than all the United States put together? That's California ego for you!
Perfect! You grab the map, roll it up, and konk Penelope over the head with it. Not!
How nice! Some of the children's artwork has been placed up on the wall for all to admire.
Say, if only somebody would invent a box with an electric heat exchange unit and some sort of gaseous coolant, you could use magnets to affix these pictures to the outside of the box and display them thusly in a kitchen!
But that's not important right now.
You resolve to return at a calmer moment and retrieve some of these pictures to decorate your pharmacy.
There's an old broomstick leaning against the wall.
No need to take the broom. It's not like you have to bring it back to the Wizard as proof that you defeated Penelope.
You see a bench, where the children sit to remove their mukluks.
It's too heavy to be hurled effortlessly. Or even picked up. Or just moved.
A row of pegs for coats is hung on the wall here. Looks like one of the children forgot to take his or her coat. There's gonna be hell to pay at home later!
You rifle through the child's coat pockets, looking for loot, but you find nothing. You crum!
There on the wall are a couple of small daguerreotypes. Looks like the kids took some crayons to 'em.
Those li'l pictures are too flimsy to be of any use to you.
The teacher's desk stands on the raised platform.
Nothing on the desk looks immediately useful to you.
It's a ball of some sort, with strange markings all over it. At first, you think it's supposed to be the Earth, but the Earth is very slightly egg-shaped, so that obviously isn't it. Anyway, you scarcely have time to worry about it right now.
You can't reach the strange orb!
It looks like somebody's taken a bite out of McGruff's Reader!
This is neither the time nor the place to brush up on your phonics. Well, okay, it's the |c0|place,|c| but it isn't the |c0|time.|c|
Textbooks and classics of literature sit on this shelf.
This is no time to be reading the classics! You'd be bored silly!
You fool, you've deliberately tried to ruin all my plans. I just wanted you to know I don't regret what I'm about to do. Say Hi-yo, Silver!
"Hi-yo, Silver?"
Ignoring Penelope turns out to be a bad idea. She decides you have inadequate ventilation.
=== 730.msg ===
FREDDY! You?!
Yes, it's me.
Yes, it is |c2|I|c|.
Boy, you can take the wicked villainous hoodwinking double- crossing lying slut out of the schoolteacher, but you can't take the schoolteacher out of the wicked villainous hoodwinking double- crossing lying slut!
I suppose I may as well tell you, you know too much already. I'll never be able to let you live. I had just finished my education back in western Pennsylvania at the local Meadville Normal School when I saw a small ad on the school bulletin board seeking teachers for a "lovely little village, way out West, nestled high in the Sierra Nevada mountains."
I wrote a letter of inquiry and was offered the position by the Coarsegold Board of Education. They even sent me stagecoach fare!  Soon after my arrival (which you saw in the Prologue, I believe), I noticed the oily swamp behind the schoolhouse. Being a good Pennsylvania oil country girl, I grasped immediately that Coarsegold was literally oozing money!
But I could never afford to buy mineral rights on the meager pittance they pay a single unwed female teacher, so I made a little arrangement with Mr. Balance. He foreclosed whichever mortgages he could, and convinced Sheriff Shift to shut down everyone else. Balance would get the land and buildings for a song and give me the mineral rights |c2|I|c| wanted, as long as I gave him what |c2|he|c| wanted!
But Penelope! You seemed to be such a sweet, innocent young woman. How could you be such a SLEAZEBAG?
Before I kill you, Mr. Gunslingin' Stranger Hero-type, let's find out who you REALLY are behind that silver ear!
It HAD to be me, Freddy. Don't you see? It's ALWAYS the person you LEAST SUSPECT.
I didn't suspect Srini. Couldn't it be him?
It's a little late for that now.
Wait! I REALLY didn't suspect ME!
Well, if it's YOU, then I'm doing the town a favor by disposing of you, aren't I? (SNICKER)
Penelope eyes the lantern sitting on the newel post.
Oops! How clumsy of me!
Oh, well. Coarsegold won't be needing a schoolhouse anyway!
Wait! There were a lot of other people I didn't suspect!
It's a kerosene lantern, way up out of reach.
You are deluding yourself in a big way.
It appears to be a harlequin doll, his eyes glaring at you in the flickering firelight, his mocking grin making you feel all oogy inside.
From here? You must be thinking of that other Al Lowe game, |c3|"Plastic Man, Frontier Pharmacist"|c|.
This old pitcher is decorated with images of elder statesmen.
Dream on! And if you don't find a way out of this predicament quickly, you |c0|will|c| be dreaming on and on and on and on....
It's a little brown jug.
Oh, sure, let's pour a little moonshine on the burning oil and see if |c0|that|c| helps. Anyway, you can't reach it from here.
This decorative toy chest is old and worthless.
Yes, crawling through the puddle of oil to get to the toy chest seems like a smashingly good idea, doesn't it? Think again, Brainiac!
An old barrel of some sort stands far out of reach in the corner of the room.
Try looking at it and reading the words very carefully.
There are a lot of books stacked up in the corner. You'd like to read some of the clever titles, but they're too far away. From here, though, they do look very flammable.
You may be an intellectual, Freddy, at least compared to most of the other mokses in this town, but you do choose the |c2|darndest|c| times to try to catch up on your reading!
A rolled-up chart or map of some sort stands in the corner of the basement.
Your instinct for survival tells your natural curiosity to shut up about the map and start concentrating on getting |c0|outta here!!!!|c|
There's a child's toy drum on the shelf.
What were you going to do, bang the drum slowly?
Some jars sit on the top shelf of the bookcase over yonder.
The jars are far out of reach.
There's a tall set of bookshelves jammed in the corner.
You can't even hope to reach those shelves.
There's a small bookshelf set in the wall near the stairs.
Hey, that's school property, leave it alone.
It's the dank little schoolhouse basement. The walls and columns are made of rough brick; the stone floor is dirty and uneven.
You've got VASTLY more important things to do than to chat with the scenery!
There are no trap doors, no hidden exits, nothing whatsoever that would help you.
Stairs leading up to the schoolroom. And they're looking mighty attractive right about now.
You'd never be able to drag your chair up those steps... at least, not in time to avoid being incinerated first!
Some old crates are piled up here.
Even if you could get over to them, you wouldn't have the leverage to break them open.
A decrepit piano sits under the stairwell.
Of course! You'll |c0|play|c| your way out of here with a few old family favorites! Wait, that logic seems somehow flawed.
A large stone column, topped with wooden beams, dominates the room.
The column ain't goin' nowhere. In the position you're in, you can't even get a grip on it.
You'd never be able to shimmy over to it in time!
A few old schoolroom desks have been piled haphazardly on the far side of the column.
They're way 'round back of the column, where you can't get at them.
Some books have been stacked at the base of the column.
Yeah, right, you'll slice your way out of these ropes with the book binding, then you'll dash upstairs and give Penelope a fatal paper cut.
A large crate and a smaller one sit at the base of the column.
They're around the corner, where you can't get at them.
A few dusty schoolroom charts lean against the large crate.
Those charts will do you no good whatsoever. They're years out of date!
Looks like the oily swamp water has seeped into the basement. Wait! That's not swamp water. That must be |c0|oil|c|!! It's what Penelope was after all along... Coarsegold was sitting on a rich oil deposit, and you never even realized it!
Maybe you should be finding a way to avoid the oil as much as possible, rather than trying to splash about in it.
It's your silver ear. Your cover's blown now!
You can't reach it from the chair, Freddy!
You "scooch" the chair closer and closer to your precious silver ear... and just manage to snag it!
The basement floor is bare rock. Well, it WOULD be bare if it weren't so dirty.
The ground feels like solid rock with a layer of dust on top.
Smart thinking! You frantically give the silver ear a few quick rubs on the stone floor.
You manage to slice into the ropes with the sharpened silver ear!
=== 740.msg ===
Him again! It's Kenny the Kid, your arch-nemesis from your gunslinging days. He stares at you murderously, with glassy eyes and icewater in his veins. Or maybe he's got icewater in his eyes and glass in his veins? No, wait! He's got veins in his eyes and icewater in a glass! That's it!
Kenny, we're not kids anymore. We're grown up. We're both adults. Let's settle this reasonably.
I don't wanna. You can't make me. You're not the boss of me!
I take back what I said about us both being adults.
Oh, yeah? Well, I'm rubber, you're glue. Everything you say bounces off me and sticks to you!
If you touch Kenny, you'll have to turn your back on Penelope, and she'll stab you through the heart. Then again, if you ignore Kenny, he'll surely put a bullet through your heart. This situation basically sucks.
Unfortunately, you're using the sword to keep Penelope at bay. You'll have to find some other way to deal with Kenny!
You see Penelope in a whole new light, now that you know what a cad and a bounder she is! That angelic face belies the vicious, calculating, cold-hearted murderer she really is! But, hoo boy, you still wouldn't mind those lips touching yours, and... NO!  Stop thinking that way! She's a bad girl! BAD girl!
Penelope, can't we talk this out like civilized people?
Talk all you like. I'm fencing.
Oh, my gosh! First you plot to destroy Coarsegold, then you sell stolen property? The shame of it all!
Not THAT kind of fencing, you fool! SWORD fencing!
Oh, okay! Now I got it!
There's no way you'll be able to grab her before she turns you into Fred-Ka-Bobs!
There's a better deadly weapon for dealing with her! Actually, there's TWO, but this game is rated PG!
Justice will be done, madam!
Damn! I knew I shouldn't have wasted my time packing those student folders! I shall allow you to choose the manner of your demise.
Say what?
Sorry, you took too long to decide.
Penelope grabs one of the swords off the Civil War display above the blackboard.
Curses! You've foiled me!
It's not a foil, it's a sabre. A foil is straight and has two sharp edges, unless it's the smaller French foil which is dull and is used chiefly for thrusting. A sabre, like this one, is curved and has one sharp edge. As a teacher and a member of the fencing team, you of all people should have known THAT!
Oh, no... foiled, defeated AND corrected! Now I REALLY feel bad.
And thank god for my high school intramural sports program! Otherwise, I'd be fettucine al Freddy by now!
Did I forget to mention downstairs that Meadville Normal had the nation's first female fencing team?
Why, it's you! I recognize you now! From the old neighborhood. Freddy something!
Good to see you again, Kenny. I hope I didn't hurt your hand out there in the street.
Whoa! That was you, out there? I didn't recognize you. Have you done something with your hair?
It's funny, Pharkas! I thought I killed your sorry ass back in St. Louis!
No, not my hair, Kenny, but THIS!
Hurling your sharpened ear like a Chinese throwing star, you whip it at Kenny, catching him right in the throat!
Freddy Pharrrrggggghhhhh!!
One of the two Civil War Swords is still above the blackboard.
It's a copy of AMERICAN HISTORY FROM THEN 'TIL NOW. All 33 pages' worth!
Now's no time to brush up on the American Revolution! All 33,000 deaths worth!
Pressure's On!
  I can take her! Hell, she's just a girl!  
Hmmm. I dunno.
That was a pretty impressive half-gainer.
Oh, my God.
  I'm going to die. Give me a break!  
You see a bench, where the children sit to remove their mukluks.
It's too heavy to be hurled effortlessly. Or even picked up. Or just moved.
The teacher's desk stands on the raised platform.
Nothing on the desk looks immediately useful to you.
There's a large, colorful map of California on the wall.
You can brush up on your geography |c0|later|c|! Have you tried playing "Gold Rush?"
There's a large chalkboard on the wall behind the teacher's desk.
Wait 'til the teacher calls on you. And somehow, you don't think she's going to!
It's a fascinating book about Puff and Spot... a dragon and a soda-pop character.
You've got no time to brush up on your reading skills!
It's all about Bob, Dick 'n Jane. And how much fun it was for Bob and Jane!
You've got no time for Sex Ed right now!
Textbooks and classics of literature sit on this shelf.
This is no time to be reading the classics! You'd be bored silly!
It looks like somebody's taken a bite out of that McGruff's Reader.
This is neither the time nor the place to brush up on your phonics. Well, okay, it's the |c0|place,|c| but it isn't the |c0|time.|c|
There's an old broomstick leaning against the wall.
No need to take the broom. It's not like you have to bring it back to the Wizard as proof that you defeated Penelope.
It's a rickety wooden bucket, long past usefulness and into the "quaint decor" mode.
The old wooden bucket isn't sturdy enough to be of any use.
The left window is closed.
What are you trying to do, beat a hasty retreat? Deal with the problem at hand, Freddy!
A row of pegs for coats is hung on the wall here. Looks like one of the children forgot to take his or her coat. There's gonna be hell to pay at home later!
You rifle through the child's coat pockets, looking for loot, but you find nothing. You crumb.
You see row upon row of quaint school desks, complete with one-piece bench, desktop and inkwell. Eww, one of 'em still has some poor girl's pigtail stuck in it!
You briefly consider throwing or hiding behind a desk, but decide instead that cool concentration and cunning are the secrets to bringing this encounter to a quick and just conclusion.
The latest and greatest American flag stands at limp attention. A feeling not wholly unfamiliar to you!
This would be a terrible time to wrap yourself in the flag! It has a very low armor factor!
It's a ball of some sort, with strange markings all over it. At first, you think it's supposed to be the Earth, but the Earth is very slightly egg-shaped, so that obviously isn't it. Anyway, you scarcely have time to worry about it right now.
You can't reach the strange orb!
How nice! Some of the children's artwork has been placed up on the wall for all to admire.
Say, if only somebody would invent a box with an electric heat exchange unit and some sort of gaseous coolant, you could use magnets to affix these pictures to the outside of the box and display them thusly in a kitchen!
But that's not important right now.
You resolve to return at a calmer moment and retrieve some of these pictures to decorate your Pharmacy. The fire burning downstairs notwithstanding.
This hanging lamp illuminates the peaceful, yearning, upturned faces of the ignorant and uneducated... who come in on Parents' Day to see how their children are doing!
There's more than enough light for you to see what you need to do.
This window's propped open.
Your life is in jeopardy. Don't make things worse by making the room stuffier. And no, you can't escape by leaping from the window! Penelope would run you through the moment you turned your back!
Some old camel's hair paintbrushes sit on the shelf. Just in case the kids decide they want to paint some camel hair!
This is no time for arts 'n crafts!
This is the one-room schoolhouse. It's a lot dingier and darker on the inside than it looked from the outside... just like Penelope!
Now's not the time for idle chit-chat with the scenery! It's time for ACTION!
That won't help you |c0|now|c|, Freddy!
There's a small map of the United States. Have you noticed how California, on the map to the right, appears to be larger than all of the United States put together? That's California ego for you!
Perfect! You grab the map, roll it up, and konk Penelope over the head with it. Not!
There on the wall are a couple of small daguerreotypes. Looks like the kids too some crayons to 'em.
Those li'l pictures are too flimsy to be of any use to you.
This stove keeps the kiddies warm in the winter, and dries their mukluks.
The stove is cold and empty. How like Penelope's heart!
Looks like somebody started a very nice portrait of George Washington... The Father of Plywood Dentures.
Now's no time to be taking pictures!
Some old chunks of hardwood sit in the scuttle.
Neither the chunks of wood nor the scuttle itself will help you out of this mess!
He who fights and runs away... gets skewered!
While you're stupidly standing there taking in the scenery, Penelope decides you're not really interested in fighting back.
Oh, Freddy!
Ah, yeah?
Here.
You think you can see smoke curling up around the door jamb.
There's a raging inferno down there, Freddy! Going that way is certain death!
=== 790.msg ===
Al Lowe
Josh Mandel
Josh Mandel
Bob Gleason
Steve Conrad
Aubrey Hodges
Karin A. Young
Ruben Huante
William R. Shockley
Cynthia L. Swafford
Steve Conrad
Phy "No Relation" Williams
Bob Gleason
Ruben Huante
Karin A. Young
Mike W. Pickhinke
Mike Weiner
Larry Buchanan
Jeff Crowe
Joan Delehanty
Maria Fruehe
Gloria Garland
Michael Hutchison
Tony Margioni
Jerry Moore
Cindy Walker
Chris "Smokehouse" Willis
Deanna Yhalkee
Carlos Escobar
Brian K. Hughes
Doug Oldfield
Doug Wheeler
Mike Brosius
Dave Clingman
Keri Cooper
Lynne Dayton
Tina Deardorff
Mike Jones
John Meek
Diana Mulligan
Sharon Simmons
Rick Spurgeon
Joe Carper
Judy Crites
Bill Davis Jr.
John Ratcliffe
Sharon Smith
Dan Woolard
Vana Baker
Ed Critchlow
Dan Foy
J. Mark Hood
Brian K. Hughes
Ken Koch
Jack Magne
Terry McHenry
Martin Peters
Larry Scott
Christopher Smith
Mark Wilden
Bob Andrews
Barbara Baser
Pete Fisher
Geoff Keighley
Bill Larkins
Wesley Litt
Mark Schey
Bob Ballew
Nathan Gams
Alan Mandel
Game Designers:
Director/Producer:
Art Designer:
Lead Programmer:
Composer:
Lead Animator:
Character Designer:
Programmers:
Artists/Animators:
Quality Assurance:
Customer Service Liaisons:
Additional Animation:
Additional Programming:
Configuration Lead:
Quality Assurance Configuration:
Additional Sound Effects:
Additional QA:
Systems Programming:
The Beta Test Team:
Special Thanks To:
just a dummy
Continue
Quit
=== 791.msg ===
FREDDY! You?!
Why, Penelope, why? Why on earth have you done all this?
I suppose I can tell you. You know too much already, so I can never let you live. I had just finished my education back in western Pennsylvania at the local Meadville... Wait, Josh, can I ask a question?
|c0|CUT!|c|
Shelley, how many times do we hafta do this damned scene??
It's just that I don't understand my motivation for this speech.
Oh, geez.
I mean, eh, why would Penelope reveal all this to Freddy? Why doesn't she just kill him and get on with it? Fory crying out loud...!
Just |c2|do|c| it, all right? I wanna get home tonight.
This is about |c2|acting|c|, Gil. You wouldn't know anything about it!
Shel, it's just a plot device so that the audience understands what's going on. Otherwise we leave a lot of unanswered questions.
Can't we put it in the manual instead, Joshie, sweetie? It's so |c2|dull|c|.
No, then they might read it before they finish the game. Ready to take it again?
I suppose.
And... ACTION!
Ow!
Oh, god.
You HIT me again. You REALLY hit me.
|c0|CUT!|c|
Yes I'm cut, and I'm bleeding, too.
I hope it's serious.
I'm gonna sue. This is what happened to Margaret Hamilton, y'know.
Where are you bleeding?
My finger!
He'll never pick his ear with that finger again.
You shut up, this is all your fault.
Can you suffer through one more take, Gil?
Sure, Josho, and I'll bleed to death, but you'll have your game. That's what you want, isn't it?
So c'mon, let's do it. What are we waiting for? C'mon, let's go.
Use the pain. Direct it at Shelley.
All RIGHT!
And... ACTION!
Oh, my formal fellow, I am but a weary traveler from-a da land far, far way.
|c0|CUT!!|c|
Whatta was wrong with-a that?
The accent slipped, Antonio.
Wotta you talkin' about? That wassa perfect! You doan' know an Indian accent-a iffa she hits you over da head!
I didn't hear any Italian creeping in. I thought it was pretty good.
I'm-a goin' to my trailer! I can't work under these-a conditions! You call-a my agent, you don't like-a my accent!
Antonio! Don't walk on the ants!
Ants! Hah! 'Atsa what I think of your lousy ants!
Mike, get Antonio's agent on the phone. Steve, get the rest of the programmers down here. Gil, take five.
DOUBLE! STUNT DOUBLE! Hey, I said STUNT DOUBLE! I'm not doing this jump myself. I could break my neck.
Gil, just do it.
Yeah, right, like THAT'S in my contract. My stunt double is supposed to handle this.
She can't, she quit yesterday.
What? Why?
People, people, work with me here! I'm sensing reluctance! Now please, just do the jump before we lose the Assay set, all right?
Doesn't this scene take place at night?
We're shooting day-for-night. It's cheaper. The artists will fix it in post-production.
Oh, I see.
Off the set, Millie.
But I wanted to watch Gil break his neck!
Get |c0|out|c|! He's nervous enough about doing the scene without you watching him. Ready, Gil?
This is ridiculous. I swear, I'll sue if something goes wrong. This is what happened to Margaret Hamilton, y'know.
Just DO IT! And... ACTION!
|c0|OW!|c| Worker's comp! Worker's comp!
|c0|CUT!!|c|
This adventure game is a work of fiction and is protected under the law under the general heading of parody, which means we can get away with everything we said and did in the game. If not, we'll just fall back on that old "the people and events described herein bear no relation to any real or imagined people and events" loophole.
A total of 34 animals were injured or maimed in the making of this game.  After all, we could accept nothing less than total and complete realism.
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