Seth MacFarlane's A Million Ways to Die in the West(5)

Albert stared for a beat. “I guess I’m looking for someone more reliable.”

They wished each other good day as Jesus the cat helped himself to Mrs. Callaghan’s large intestine.


On any given evening, the Old Stump Saloon was packed to the gills with gamblers, boozers, and unshaven purveyors of various foul smells. At times, in fact, there seemed to be virtually hundreds of different odors, all fiercely competing for dominance in the confined and poorly ventilated space.

But at two o’clock in the afternoon, the place was mostly deserted. A couple of frail-looking old cowhands sat at the bar staring into their glasses, but otherwise the lower level was empty.

Except for Edward Phelps.

Edward sat patiently on a wooden chair at the base of the stairwell that led up to the brothel rooms. He probably should have brought a book or something, he thought, but the wait wouldn’t be too long. In his hand he held a lovely late-spring bouquet of daisies, lilacs, and daffodils. From upstairs, the raucous sounds of sexual intercourse could be heard as Edward’s girlfriend, Ruth, was fucked wildly by a dirty cowboy.

“Oh, yes! YES!!” she screamed, her voice reverberating throughout the saloon.

“Yeah, you like me fuckin’ you, don’t you?” bellowed the dirty cowboy.

“Yes! Yes, it’s really terrific!” she shouted back between moans of ecstasy.

“I got dirt on my dick from workin’ outside all day!”

“I know! I love the scratchy feeling inside me!”

“Yeah, you like the dirt on my dick, don’t you?!”

“I do! I really do! It’s such a treat!”

Ruth’s sex talk had always been a bit clumsy, but her heart was in the right place, and as a prostitute she was exemplary: always on time for her shift, freshly bathed after every fifth customer, and willing to accommodate all types of fetishes. Edward admired her work ethic. The seriousness with which a person took professional obligations said a lot about their character. He was lucky to be with such a woman.

“Stick your finger in my asshole!” shouted the dirty cowboy.

“I’m excited to!” Ruth answered.

At that moment, Millie, the house madam, descended the stairs. She was plump, in her early forties, with the saucy, painted look of a career saloon whore. Her thick mound of done-up hair, no doubt once dark as onyx, now showed numerous streaks of gray. As she approached, she waved a beringed hand in the cobbler’s direction.

“Hi, Edward,” she said with a smile. Her cherry-red lips and heavily rouged cheeks, while undignified-looking in and of themselves, at least added some welcome color to the brown-on-brown room.

“Oh, hey, Millie.” Edward grinned, standing respectfully.

“You waiting for Ruth?”

“Yeah, I got off work a little early, so I thought I’d take her out for a picnic.”

“Oh. You’re a good boyfriend.”

“I try to be.”

Millie glanced toward the upper level. “Well, it sounds like she’s almost done,” she said, as the moans of orgasmic passion reached a dissonant crescendo.

“OH, GOD, I’M GONNA COME!” Ruth screamed.

“Those are pretty flowers,” Millie remarked.

Edward looked down at his bouquet with a proud grin. “I know, aren’t they beautiful? There are even a couple of tulips in here. They’re hard to come by this time of year, but Ruth is very particular.”

“OH, YES! SHOOT THAT DIRTY COWBOY CUM ALL OVER MY FACE!”

Edward adjusted his tie, hearing that Ruth was almost finished. “Do I look all right?” he asked, presenting himself to Millie for inspection.

“Yes, you’re … you’re fine,” she answered, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. “Say, Edward … can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you … okay with the fact that your girlfriend gets screwed by about fifteen guys every day and gets paid to do it?”

“Oh. Well, I mean, my job sucks too.”

“Yeah, but you repair shoes.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Edward laughed. “The shoe business has been so slow since the Civil War ended.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s just a lot less legs.”

Millie was about to press the original issue a bit further, when Ruth came bounding down the stairs, still in the process of pulling her clothes back on.

“Eddie, is that you?” she squealed happily.

He whirled around to meet her eyes and flung his arms wide open. “Hey, sweetheart!”

“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, smothering him in a joyous embrace and kissing him flush on the lips.

He flinched. “Ooh, your breath is a little …”