Texas strikes first! Lunge for the mook! (End)

If Roxxie was about to close in on Texas, then Texas was going to make damn sure that she did so with one less mook. The sheriff took the mook’s hesitation as an opportunity and sprang forwards, grappling the possum to the ground. They both hit the dirt and rolled, Texas quickly gaining the advantage and locking her forearms about the neck of the possum to keep her from crying out.

The possum slapped and struggled against Texas, spinning one way, then another, then another. It was a harsh, brutal battle, but one that Texas was confident that she could win. You don’t become a sheriff without knowing how to come out on top in a few tussles now and then.

Only, winning tussles is easy so long as a shovel doesn’t come swinging out of the gloom. As much as Texas wanted to keep the possum from drawing attention, it turns out that scuffling in a graveyard is enough of a tell to call over enough of Roxxie’s gang to end this fight before either side can crawl out victorious.

The flat of the spade struck Texas in the back of the head with enough **** to put the weasel out of commission before she even knew she was surrounded. The possum crawled away from Texas, **** and rubbing at her neck, and the other henchmen prowled closer, peering down at the prone form of the defeated sheriff.

Roxxie joined them quickly enough, come to investigate the commotion. When she saw Texas sprawled out, her hat squashed against her head from the **** of the blow that took her down, she barked with laughter.

“Whoever did this, you’re my new favourite recruit! Hah! Well, well, well, turns out this graveyard was haunted after all. The lingering spirit of a sheriff who just didn’t know when to quit. And I think I know exactly what I’m gonna do with you. Girls, get those shovels ready. This night just got a whole lot better.”

When Texas awoke, she found…well, not all that much actually. Her first instinct, after opening her eyes, was that she’d been blindfolded. That would surely explain the fact that she couldn’t see. Then, she assumed that she had been bound, which made some sense given that she could hardly move.

Only, those two instincts disappeared as soon as she felt neither cloth over her eyes, nor rope around her body. The sensation was something entirely different, one in which she had the liberty to wriggle her limbs about as she wished but found no space in which to do so. It was as though she had been swallowed whole and was now trapped in the cramped, claustrophobic confines of some cruel creature’s belly.

But that couldn’t be right. If Texas had been eaten, then it could only have been by a tree. Even without sight, she could still feel the cool, dry texture of planks all around her. A knotty board on which her head rested uncomfortably. Long lengths down her side, close enough that she could barely even start to starfish. And above, only a few inches from where her muzzle ended, exactly the same. Almost as though she were sealed in a wooden box. Almost like a…a…

Oh.

Oh no.

At first, Texas didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. Not like this, she told herself. Absolutely not.

Desperation beginning to set in, she kicked out her legs. Boots bounced pitifully against the dry wood with a solid THUNK. There wasn’t so much as a shudder in the surrounding lumber, which only confirmed the worst of Texas’s suspicions. The wooden box was completely packed down with dirt. Presumably, six feet of it.

While she had been ****, helpless, ****, Roxxie had taken full advantage of Texas. She had actually gone and done it. The unthinkable. That vicious, evil, scheming, fat-assed wretch of a roo, to actually go through with something like this.

To dump Texas in her very own coffin.

Buried.

Alive!

But, if this was a coffin, and Texas really was buried underground then it was something of a surprise that the sheriff wasn’t finding herself short of oxygen, particularly since the panic that came with the realisation had her drawing in deep, heavy gulps of air. That small mercy came as both a wonder and a relief to the trapped weasel and went a long way to helping her find some semblance of composure. It was enough to draw her attention to the cool breeze that she still felt wafting over her face, an unlikely sensation for one six-foot under. Curious, Texas wriggled about until her hands were above her face and she could grope at the roof of her coffin to find the source.

Sure enough, there was a small length of iron piping stabbed through the lid. It was hollow on the inside and Texas could only wonder at how far up it went. It must have been the whole six feet, given the wondrously cool breeze

“I think she’s awake,” drifted a voice from somewhere above. Carried down the metal piping, it sounded so distant, so quiet. Almost like it came from another world, which Texas supposed it might well do. The land of the living, to which Texas seemed not to inhabit anymore.

“How can you tell?” came another.

“Can’t you hear? Little scratching noises. That, and she stopped snoring.”

“Get outta my way, ya goddamn idiots!” came a much harsher voice. Texas would recognise that voice anywhere, even six-feet down. Roxxie Roo. She could just imagine the great, galumphing varmint shouldering her lackeys out of the way with a crude impatience, standing proudly over a patch of freshly turned soil. Acting all high and mighty as if she personally had been the one shovelling the dirt, even though not a single piece of equipment would reveal her fingerpints in a search. “I’ll tell ya one way you can find out if she’s awake!”

There was a sudden silence, more than enough to make Texas cringe. She had been enjoying that brief connection with the outside world and to have it so suddenly robbed from her filled the sheriff with a frustration and despair that came second only to having been buried alive in the first place. She did what she could to prop herself up on her elbows, as little as the tiny space she inhabited would allow, and pressed her eye to the iron tube. She had a hope, however slim, that she might be able to use it like a periscope, bending light to her will so that she could see what Roxxie was doing up above.

How foolish she was.

BRAAAAAPPPPPFFFFFTTTTTT!!

The entire pipe vibrated intensely as the sound roared like a beast from hell itself, ripping through the tubing from topside to bottom. With it came a whoosh of warm air, which billowed directly over Texas’ face, veiling her in a gush of pure flatus. Though she couldn’t see, the air was aflame with a green fog. Texas didn’t even need to take a breath to know what it was - she could feel it scorching her fuzzy fur, steaming her eyes. And yet, horribly, she knew that she’d have to soon enough.

What else could she do? Hold her breath until she passed out? The prospect was not one she was wholly against, yet all the same she finally surrendered to her screaming lungs and took a cautious whiff of the air. And immediately, immediately regretted it.

The stink of **** had finally filled Texas’ coffin, and it came from none other than the depths of Roxxie’s overbloated ass. That criminal had always been rotten, but the only thing that was even moreso was the contents of her guts! It was nauseatingly repulsive and repulsively nauseating, a wretched brew that choked Texas as if it were a solid **** caught in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears as the sheer sour stink seared the insides of her nostrils, clawed at her throat, sat on her brain and corkscrewed until she was drunkenly dizzy with the horrifying aroma.

There was nowhere to turn to escape it. Nowhere to hide. Texas was trapped, sealed inside her own tomb with nothing but Roxxie’s farts to keep her company.

“How ya doin down there, Tex?” rattled a jeering voice through the pipe.

“ROXXIE, you goddamn, vile, hideous, nasty piece of-”

“Now now, Tex. I’m all for respecting the dead, but we both know I ain’t never respected you. Any more words like that and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Get me out of here this damn instant or I’ll have you locked up so deep, so far away you ain’t gonna know what daylight-”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!!!!

Texas’ words were drowned out by another putrid explosion from above, and a fresh wave of Roxxie’s rank emissions steamed in through the narrow aperture. Texas screamed in revulsion as she could feel the farts washing over her like a tide, streaming into her mouth to paint her tastebuds with their taint, sloughing over her prone body and lingering like a lost soul in the air around her. The stench of sour milk and rotten meat was so pervasive it was being burned into Texas’ sinuses so strong that she knew that she’d be smelling this for decades if she ever found a way out.

The worst part about it was that by now there was more flatulence than oxygen in the coffin, which cruelly meant that Texas had to keep breathing deeper, harder, faster. The more farts Roxxie dumped into Texas’ tomb, the more the trapped weasel was **** to gulp them into her lungs. By the third mouthful of polluted air, she was retching.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Tex! You were fillin’ yer coffin with so much hot air I thought I might join ya! Now, as I was about to be sayin, I hope you’re comfy down there because I’ll be making sure you stay like that for a long, long time to come. Maybe I’ll send help for you eventually. I can think of a few people who might pay me good coin to hear where you are. Some might wanna dig you up. Or maybe they might just have a few offerings to leave you.”

Texas knew exactly the kind of company that Roxxie kept and knew exactly who the kangaroo would be referring to. There were a number of names that Texas could recall who would drop everything they had for an opportunity to “pay their respects” to a former sheriff like Texas and there was nothing that Texas could think of that she’d like less. Except maybe another whiff of Roxxie’s putrid ass fumes.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I? Now, you tell me why I wouldn’t, Tex. You tell me good and maybe I won’t. If’n ya can’t, though? Well, I guess you’ll find out soon enough. It ain’t like you’re going anywhere fast.”

Texas braced herself because she knew exactly what was about to follow. Predictable as ever, the pipe vibrated again as Roxxie unleashed another revolting surge of her infamous farts down the pipe.

And thus ended the story of Texas. Buried alive, to stew in a coffin filled with Roxxie’s farts, and, eventually, the farts of every other petty crook and evil outlaw to find themselves in this graveyard. Perhaps **** might have been ****. There was definitely no mercy to be found here.

Up above, the tombstone bore no name, no date, just a crudely carved rendition of Texas’ face and the line “Here lies the worst sheriff Gold Springs ever suffered”. Underneath: “RIP – Rest in Parps”.

As Roxxie stood appreciating the sight of Texas’ final resting place, one of her mooks, a possum, sidled over and regarded the gravestone with a puzzled frown. “Did you, uh, were you just carrying that around with you?”

“Carrying what?”

“That gravestone. Kinda specific, isn’t it?”

“So what if I was?” Roxxie asked, folding her arms beneath her ample chest. “Got somethin’ to say?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing I suppose.” The lackey held up her hands as if to make it obvious she wasn’t here to argue. Next to the gravestone was a long, long length of pipe sprouting from the ground with an opening sticking forward at a perfect 90-degree angle. It was at just the right height to match Roxxie Roo’s waist. “But, uh, surely you’re…you’re not actually going to leave her down there, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” jeered the vile kangaroo. “So long as she’s got this pipe, she’ll do just fine. It’ll be my little hobby and we’ll just keep giving her everything she needs. You name it, we can get her food, drink, and especially…” Roxxie grabbed the pipe and plugged it between her cheeks. She strained, tensed her entire body, and another warbling blast erupted from the depths of her gut with the sound of a broken trumpet. “Especially air.”

As she let go, the pipe sprang from Roxxie’s mountainous ass mounds with a hideously wet SCHPLOP and the mook fancied she could hear something that sounded an awful lot like a weasel screaming out her fury and disgust. Residue stink drifted from the mouth of the pipe and the lackey had to fight every impulse in her body to keep from clutching at her nose and running to the other side of town. If this was just a hint of what the weasel was dealing with…she found herself grappling with a sincere sympathy for the poor sheriff’s plight.

“That lil weasel would be rolling in her grave if’n she could smell what our cook’s dinner has done to my guts!” Roxxie said, before braying with laughter at her own abysmal joke. She slapped her knee and hooted, then grabbed the pipe to wedge it between her cheeks again. There was a long night ahead, and Roxxie Roo was about to make sure that Texas’ final resting place would be a very, very uncomfortable one.