Things You’ll Never Hear In A Western Movie (by Robin)

Summary:   A REALLY Lost Episode.  Thanks to Carla for the original list of Things You’ll Never Hear In A Western Movie.

Word Count:  4200



                        Things You’ll Never Hear In A Western Movie



Chapter one – Latte in the Afternoon


“I reckon I’ll have me a half-caf double latte with a twist IN A DIRTY MUG!” said Adam Cartwright as he strode up to the coffee bar in the Virginia City Starbucks. He was living really dangerously.

“Make that two!” said Ben Cartwright. His deep voice rattled the rack of mugs hanging behind the bevel edged granite-topped bar. “With extra double caffeine. I have a late date tonight with Widow Brady. She got a magnificent new duvet and magnificent shams and…”

“She wants you to …ahem… try them out?” Adam winked.

“Herupmph!” Ben glared at his eldest son’s remark.

“What did you say sir?” The attractive barista smiled warmly.

“I said, I would like my coffee with extra double caffeine. I have a late date tonight with Widow Brady. She got a magnificent new duvet and magnificent shams and she…

“Has three very lovely girls. All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls,” Little Joe sang longingly, though a bit off key.

Ben swatted his son with a rolled up newspaper on the nose.

“Do you want whipped cream with that, Mr. Cartwright, sir?” asked voluptuous AshleyMaryKate Bluedresskytein, the charming barista. “We also have some grand and yummy liggonberry pie?“

“No pie. Just the coffee with Sweet and Lo, Sugar.“

“We also have some grand and yummy peach pie?“

“Yes sir! No pie, just coffee with Sweet and Lo, Sugar!“

“We also have some grand and yummy prune danish?“

“No, Coffee, extra caffeine with Sweet and Lo! Not sugar!“ Ben corrected. He was watching his waistline. Widow Brady mentioned his gun belt was a bit snug when he took her to Piper‘s Opera House to hear Thomas Bower and Aretha Franklin and the adorable Italian Mouse Topo Gigio in a remarkable charity concert. The highpoint was Hoss and Topo Gigio singing a duet of “Shortnin’ Bread.“ They even had to do an encore. The concert was successful in raising sufficient funds for the burial of the conjoined triplets, Maxine, Patti and Laverne who Adam, Hoss and Joe had been dating when they died.

“We also have some grand and yummy sugar free lo carb, fruitless, fat free non dairy cheez kake?“ the barista suggested.

“What does that taste like?”  Ben asked. For a moment he was tempted, but just for a moment. He was a strong and manly cowboy and not easily tempted but it had been a loooooooong dessert-less trek across the desert (or was that desert-less trek across the dessert?)  and he was longing for a bit of something to fill the empty void in his stomach and the ache of loneliness in his heart and the cavity in his left molar.

“What does that taste like?”  the gal repeated nervously eyeing the handsome cattle baron in front of her.

“Yeah, my Pa said what does it taste like…this grand and yummy sugar free lo carb, fruitless, fat free non dairy cheez kake?” Little Joe leaned over the bevel edged granite-topped bar hoping to surreptitiously catch a glimpse of the girl’s unmentionables. This barista was awfully pretty, far prettier than Miss Kitty over at the Longbranch saloon or Phoebe at Central Perk. Maybe, Joe thought,  he should cut to the chase and propose to the barista right off? Why waste time?

“Yeah! What does it taste like?” Adam raised his eyebrow and slid his hand over his holstered pistol…just in case. “Tell the truth or it will be the last lie you tell.”

“What does that taste like?”  the gal repeated nervously. “Ever eat Styrofoam that a cat peed on?”

“Not recently,” Hoss said. “But there was this time I had amnesia and lived with those Dutch people for a week or so being called Heinrich, so I don’t know for sure what I ate during that time. They made me wear a dang fool wooly hat as well!”

“Bet you looked real cute in it, Hossie Wossie!“ the girl batted her eyelashes at Hoss. She loved his duet with Topo Gigio.

“Awww SHUCKS!“ Hoss blushed even though he knew it was a lie. The hat made him look pretty dopey and even worse, made his hair all static-y. Each time he touched anyone, they got a shock. It was fun for awhile sneaking up behind his brothers and shocking them, but that fun soon wore off when Adam gave him an atomic wedgie while Joe sucker-punched him. Even Pa said he deserved that one. Hop Sing just stood in the door way and laughed maniacally and juggled his ginsu knives.

“Well, this grand and yummy sugar free lo carb, fruitless, fat free non dairy cheez kake isn’t even that tasty!” she smiled. “Honest!”

“Just the coffee with Sweet and Lo then, Sugar, “ Ben said firmly.

“Sugar too? Sweet and lo AND Sugar?”

“Err, my Pa was just using  a terms of endearment,” Adam explained

AshleyMaryKate Bluedresskytein was quite perky and studying feng shui and home décor in Virginia City Community College while hoping to make her big break in show business or HGTV or meet a rich cowboy or both. She decided silver haired Ben Cartwright was a trifle too old for her but then again, he was rich rich RICH and had a swell, big huge, large, massive house with numerous rooms.

And, if she married Ben Cartwright, she would have three hunky step sons too!

The barista nodded and imagined what it would be to have a step son who was as darkly, dangerously handsome as Adam Cartwright. “OK!  I see!” She looked him up and down and down and up and tried to imagine tucking HIM into bed at night like a good stepmother should. She couldn‘t keep silent and stared at Adam and said, “Once upon a time….”

“Are you OK, Ma’m?” Adam asked thinking the girl was having some sort of swooning faint from the steam in the latte machine.

“Coffee with Sweet and Lo coming right up, Mr. Cartwright,“  she said quickly catching herself.

“Yep, lots of coffee…and some cinnamon too,” smiled Ben cordially at the charming young lady. “Does cinnamon have calories?“

Hoss shook his head. “No, sir.”

Ben smiled paternally at the sweet barista. Why couldn’t one of his sons cave in and get married?  By the time Adam, Hoss or Joe roped a nice, attentive gal like that he would be ancient, older than dirt and probably ready to move to the retired cattle baron‘s home and eat early bird specials and  play bingo for match sticks. At the rate those boys were going, his grandchild’s delivery would be covered by not-yet-invented Medicare

“And a HOT chocolate for me!” said Joe. ”HOT hot hot!”

“Hot? Like you, honey?” said AshleyMaryKate Bluedressky, eyeing Joe Cartwright up and down. She loved his bright emerald green eyes and long lashes and poofy hair. She fanned herself with her order pad. Joe Cartwright would be a swell stepson too. She could comfort him if he had nightmares and help him take a bath just like a good stepmom should. They could play with his rubber ducky together.

“Decaf Mocha Java,” said Adam. “Black! Full to the top!”

“WOWza!“ AshleyMaryKate Bluedressky sighed as she  handed Adam the scalding cup and the steam condensed on his handsome forehead giving him a sweaty glow. “Full to the top for the furchesthottie?”

Adam winked. She interpreted that as flirting but the wink was really a blink because some of the condensing droplets ran into his left eye almost dislodging his not yet invented contact lens. Adam didn’t really need contact lenses, Joe did. Little Joe was a trifle nearsighted and wanted to make his greenish eyes vividly green like the bottoms of Heiniken bottles. Pa, being an equitable man, purchased Adam and Hoss contact lenses as well. One for all and all for one.

“Pie, Poopsie?”  AshleyMaryKate Bluedressky  winked back flirtatiously and licked her lips.

Adam shook his head. “No thanks, M’am.” Why was he such a babe magnet when he had so much to do and so little time?

“And you, Mr. Cartwright? Pie?”

“No pie. Have any liggonberry carob chip high fiber cookies?” Ben wiped the moisture off Adam’s brow with the tail of his very own official Cattle Baron earth tone cattle baron shirt. He was a very helpful, generous, wise and caring father.

“Nope…only pie, and yummy sugar free lo carb, fruitless, fat free non dairy cheez kake” purred the gal. She leaned over the counter so the tall, dark handsome cowboys could eye her ample, yet pert cleavage. “Guess you boys are full?”

“Full, like my wallet and your bustle, Baby,” Adam said tucking his father’s shirt back into his cowboy trousers. He was a very helpful son. “Black. No sugar. Black. No pie.”

Hoss took a big sip of his latte and came up with a whipped cream moustache. Ben spit on his official Cattle Baron bandana and wiped off his largest son’s face.

“OH Pa!”  Hoss protested. He squirmed and tried to get away from Ben but his father had a good grasp on Hoss’s neck and held fast. He was tempted to try all those desserts but didn’t want to appear a chazah. (editor’s note: “Chazah” is a Paiute term for pig)

“Gee, Hoss. If we are going to meet my long lost pal, who only wrote yesterday, when the stage comes in, I want my boys to look presentable. And unstick your pants from your boots too, son.”

“Yeah, you look like Smokey the Bear!” Joe guffawed. Hoss backhanded him and Joe bounced off his Pa, spilling his skim milk decaf latte onto his official leather Cattle Baron vest.

“He looks adorable to moi! All of you look adorable!“ Conniving AshleyMaryKate  smiled longingly at Hoss. She would love a fine hunky yet cuddly stepson like Hoss. She could brush his tufty hair and have him carry heavy things for her like a good stepmother should.  Then she could measure his in-seam and sew him new cowboy trousers. He would need many fittings alone with her in the sewing room of the fine big large Ponderosa Ranch.

“Hey!” Joe started swinging at Hoss and leaped over a tipped faux Formica table. Two burly men, Badlands Pete and Nasty McGurk had their steamy caffinated drinks spilled on their laps and their liggonberry pie slammed to the floor with a red splat.


“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” shrieked AshleyMaryKate in a vibrato that vibrated off the hard surfaces in Starbucks, shattering the plate glass window and Pete’s left eardrum. For the next five seasons of Bonanza, the sound men inserted that screaming sound bite in every time they needed the scream of a screaming woman.

“Gol dang!” Pete screamed as his steaming cappuccino scalded his infrequently washed crotch. He had forgotten to put on his own trousers that morning when he strapped on his chaps, an easy mistake when you think about it. “I sure love liggonberry pie but hate to have hot drinks land in my nether regions! YOWCh! I‘m a gonna call my lawyer, Lionel Hutz, and sue ya!”

“I’ll get YOU!” Nasty shouted drawing his six-gun. He aimed simultaneously at Hoss and Joe.

“Gentlemen, rather than get caught up in mindless reaction, let’s draw upon our feminine selves for a more intuitive solution,”  Ben said calmly.

“Kiss and make up and spritz a bit of this lavender water on yourselves so you don’t smell so much like cattle.” Adam pulled a small traveling container of Yardley Lavender Travel Spritz from his Louis Vuitton saddlebag and handed it to Joe.

“Can we postpone this duel till 12:05? I gotta use the little boys room,” said Hoss, doing that little tap dancing jig folks do when they have had a bit too much latte and were born with the smallest bladder in the Cartwright family. Hoss was a large fellow but had that notorious teeny, tiny, low capacity Borgstrom bladder. The small bladder and an allergy to lima beans ran in his mother’s family. Uncle Gunnar had that teeny bladder and it caused loads of troubles when he was a member of the Vildah Chaya Comanchero Gang .

Soon the sheriff came by and broke up the fist fest with a shout of “BREAK UP THIS FIST FEST FIESTA!”

By the time the combatants were sorted out, the men all realized that poor AshleyMaryKate Bluedressky was lay dead on the tile floor of Starbucks, a shattered piece of shattered porcelain liggonberry pie plate pierced the posterior of her pituitary gland.


Chapter Two – Wild West Geometry


Later that afternoon, after a quick, brief, yet tragically sad funeral for AshleyMaryKate Bluedresskyky, the Cartwrights happened upon a wagon train under silent attack by a horde of rogue mimes.

“MIMES!” shouted Ben. He had a love/hate relationship with mimes. They were irritating and annoying but he truly admired Marcel Marceau.

“Mimes!” shouted Joe and Hoss kicking their horses into a gallop and shooting their guns.

“ Quick, pull the wagons into an irregular dodecagon!” Adam Cartwright loved to spout off factoids. “Who said you will never use that geometry they made you take in school?”

“Not me!” said Pa proudly. He glared at Little Joe who was well known for his reluctant scholar awards from the Virginia City School system.

“Irregular what?” Hoss squirmed hoping Adam wasn’t referring to that lima bean allergy or that infamous incident with the outhouse at the Sazarak.

“A circle! A circle will do!” Ben roared. The frightened settlers frantically tried to do what the Cartwrights ordered.

For anyone who wants to know more about dodecagons and other fun math facts check out:


Chapter Three – Wagon Train


With the help of the Cartwrights, the wagon train fought off the mimes who silently rode off over the hills with a few stolen pleathers and naugas.

“I don’t know what we would have done without you!” said Major Seth Adams (played by Ward Bond), the wagonmaster of the wagon train. “We only lost three wagons and a few head of pleathers and that wagon load of pretty gals in pert blue calico dresses. Them mimes burned Mr. Zippy‘s wagon and durn near scalped him but his wife…”

“Missus Zippy?” Mark Twain said writing down the details for a newspaper story.

“Yep, Missus Zippy. She came smacked them mimes with her not yet invented Kareoke machine. Then she played the new Dixie Chick’s CD and scared them off. We couldn‘t have beat them mimes back if‘n you Cartwrights hadn‘t happened by,” said Ward Bond. “Love them Dixie Chicks!”

“Just doing the right thing,” said Ben, modestly shaking the wagonmaster’s hands. “As always!”

Hoss nodded in agreement as he finished digging the grave for the fourteen young ladies. He was getting real good at this stuff. He shook hands with the wagonmaster just as Miss Jones, his teacher and social skills coach, had taught him.

“We better be heading on home,“ Ben said checking his not yet invented wrist watch. “Hop Sing is making fondue for dinner and I am fond of fondue.“

“Fonda? Henry? Jane? Or Peter?” the wagon master asked, scratching the mime bite on his shoulder.

Adam sighed, ignoring the stupid question.

“If’n you folks want, Pa will give you a chunk of land and a cabin, like he does to anyone we save each week,” Hoss offered generously. “And a gallon bucket of fondue for each man, woman and child!”

“No, thanks!” said Wagonmaster Ward Bond. “Some of these folks have dreams of raising naugahides for LaZboy lounge chairs and Chevy seat covers. And they ain’t much fonda fondue.”

“And the rest?” Mark Twain asked taking copious notes.

 “Looking for gold?” suggested Ben.

“Searching for banandine?” Adam asked. He remembered those tales of Woodstock Pa had told him on their way west as well as the website.

(Editor’s note: Check it out! If you thought learning about Adah Menkin and math was raucous:

 was interesting, this will be even trippier:

“No! We are going to Disneyland!” shouted the settlers gleefully as they roped the last of the pleathers and naugas who had run off during the battle.

“Careful folks, heard tell them mimes like Disney World,” Hoss warned. One of the few things he recalled of his amnesiac stay with the Dutch couples was watching their vacation videos from Florida. He could never get the tune of “It’s a Small World “ out of his head. Adam suspected that was how they brainwashed him into forgetting his family.

“Heck! It don’t matter much to us,” said one of the settlers.

Joe tugged on Ben’s vest. “Pa? Ain’t that what the Donner party said when they took off too late in the season?”

Ben sighed and shook his head. “Fools.”

“Fools for sure, Pa. They should have pulled the wagons into an irregular dodecagon like I said,” Adam muttered cynically.

For a better explanation of dodecagons look here:

Little Joe agreed. “Maybe you wouldn’t have lost the entire load of gals. Maybe there would have been a couple left.” He pitched the last shovel of dirt on the grave and shook the wagonmaster’s hand as well. Ben’s boys had exceptionally good manners and could throw together a swell funeral at a moment’s notice.

“What’s done is done, son,” Ben said, putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder.

A single tear trickled down Joe’s cheek as a speck of dirt went under his contact lens and he remembered the fierce battle with the mimes. He was shooting his six gun with his left hand and had his right arm wrapped around the waist of a scrumptious blue calico dressed gal he had just met and was proposing to her and she was killed by a silently invisible mime arrow. That happened fourteen times in a half hour until there were no girls left. Maybe the settlers should have listened to Adam about that dodecagon business and a few of those gals might have survived at least until the weekly barn dance/engagement party/funeral on Saturday night. Joe wiped his adorably sad nose on his green corduroy sleeve. He sure wished he had a slice of that liggonberry pie or even the yummy sugar free lo carb, fruitless, fat free non dairy cheez kake now or at least a gal or maybe both.

“Jest be careful as you ride home. I heard it through the grapevine that Badlands Pete and Nasty McGurk are out gunning for you Cartwrights,” said wagon train scout Flint McCulloch, who was wearing a strange, neatly pressed buckskin skirt with crisscrossed laces on the front. He was an extremely fine looking young man with perfect looking hair and clean fingernails. Wagonmaster Ward Bond was not too fond of him and wondered what kind of a scout Flint was that he was so clean and had such perfectly perfect hair despite hair dryers not being invented. The Wagonmaster always suspected Flint was in league with the mimes or the Beagle Boys from over in Duckville but never could prove it. Things were always a bit awkwardly uncomfortable between the wagonmaster and Flint McCulloch.

Years later, the scout rode off into the sunset and other than a few rumors that he was roaming around with amnesia calling himself Shenandoah or playing in musical theatre. Adam was secretly jealous.

“Don’t you go worrying about us, you too clean sissy scouting guy!” Joe challenged. After loosing 14 fiancées in less than an hour, the handsome youngest Cartwright was itching for a fight as well as cranky from unrequited love and heat rash.

“Cool off, Little Joe!” Adam said holding his brother back by one arm.

“Yeah! Adam kin out sing that sissy scout any time.” Hoss added grabbing Joe‘s other arm. “Me and Topo Gigio too!”

“Why don’t we schedule a sing-off?” Twain proposed even though no one was listening to him. “How about next Tuesday? We can do the score of  that Broadway hit ‘Big River’?”

“Let’s ride,” said Ben, growing irritated with Mark Twain‘s intrusion.

Adam helped Joe to round up the horses  who, encouraged by Cochise, were all having a cup of coffee at the wake for the fourteen dead girls and they set off for the MASSIVE (like themselves) Ponderosa.


Chapter Four – Bad Lands Pete


As it got dark, a few miles away from the wagon train, the villains, Badlands Pete and the Beagle Boys Gang from Duckberg lay in wait behind some huge papiermache boulders. They were waiting to  set upon the weary Cartwrights. They had robbed Scrooge Mc Duck’s famous money bin and grabbed Clara Cluck and Daisy Duck as hostages. The two female prisoners knew their gooses was cooked but didn’t let their feathers get ruffled.

Badlands Pete and the Beagle Boys bushwhacked the Cartwrights. The bad guys threw sand in the eyes of all the Cartwrights and their horses simultaneously.

“Bawk bawk bawk!” Clara and Daisy squawked with fear.

Before they could fight back, the gang of outlaws caught the Cartwrights and held them at gunpoint.

“Let’s kill ‘em!” said Cactus Carl.

“Yeah!” agreed evil Beagle Boy number 167-76.

“Let’s kill them and their horses too!” added Nasty Mc Gurk. He was still perturbed by being bested at the Starbucks by Hoss and Joe. (remember that?)

“Is Goofy a dog or a horse?” said Beagle Boy number 167-76.

“I think he is a dog,” answered Daisy Duck.

“But Pluto is a dog and Goofy wears pants!” said Nasty Mc Gurk.

“Shut up! The Cartwrights are coming up the trail” ordered Cactus Carl.

“Kill ‘em and the horses and steal their land and their money and spit on them!“ said Badlands Pete.

“And kill their little cute dog!” screamed the Wicked Witch of the West who was flying by.

“Yeah! The little cute one first!“  Mc Gurk said, eyeing Little Joe. He was still perturbed by being bested at the Starbucks by Hoss and Joe and besides his scalded crotch still hurt like the Dickens.

(Editors note: Remember Charles Dickens once visited the Cartwrights? )

Ben glared Ben-like at the villains and said something about following the bad guys to hell or Chuckie Cheese or Pastrami King if they harmed any of his boys. “There won’t be no cave dark enough to hide you miscreants!”

“Har har har!” sneered the outlaws. “You will never find us in Chuckie Cheese! We will hide in the ball pit!!”

“I will find you there too!” growled Ben. “Hell…the ball pit…Duckberg, Vegas,  Death Valley or even the lady’s try-on room at Victoria‘s Secret in the Virginia City Mall on the Saturday before Mother’s Day!”

“WOW!” All the outlaws and Cartwrights were impressed and delighted by that image. All the men froze in place for a real long prairie moment, visualizing that image of a crowded lingerie store for a few minutes before they resumed the battle.

Suddenly Hoss stepped forward and spoke up. “Y’know, Badlands Pete… a roaring campfire, good coffee, nice prairie breeze, just you ‘n’ me… what say we put on the rhinestone gowns and dance a jig or two?” Hoss suggested quickly. “How about the mambo or the hora?”

Adam nodded. “Sounds like a great idea, Hoss!” He carefully estimated how fast he could Kung Foo all the outlaws and clobber them real good. He was secretly taking kung foo lessons from Hop Sing in exchange for teaching Hoppy to crochet.

Adam knew Hoss was bravely going to distract the outlaws with his confusing outburst so the rest of them could escape. No one could dance a jig like his brother Hoss. Even though Hoss was a very large man, he was deceptively light on his feet. He had taken dancing lessons from Topo Gigio. Hoss smiled seductively and stepped between the bandit and his prisoners.

“A jig? How about the TANGO!?!?” Badlands Pete closed one eye trying to imagine Hoss in a rhinestone gown. It was a disturbing image but he could go with it if Hoss shaved his back.

The Beagle Boys were dumbstruck. They never realized that Badland’s Pete liked dancing.

“What purse should I use if I wear my turquoise taffeta, Hosssie Wossie Wossie Poo Dahlink?“ Pete asked.

“Turquoise taffeta?” the Beagle Boys shuddered.

“Will you bring me a corsage, Hossie?“ Pete smiled flirtatiously.

“Ain’t a wristlet more practical?” one of the Beagles suggested. Distracted by thoughts of what accessories he should use with his own gown, Pete let down his guard, giving Adam just enough time to draw and blast Pete. Pete  was eventually buried in that taffeta gown in the Virginia City Boot Hill.

“Thanks, Adam!” Hoss grinned. “I sure wasn’t about to give up my date with Bessie Sue Hightower for Badlands Pete.

“Besides, that rhinestone gown in drycleaner!” Hop Sing pointed out as he rode up with Sheriff Coffee.


The End

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