“WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE” –
Sharpcard Louis Alias Last Card Louis or Elsie Elle
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After months of roaming the prairies and badlands since making a hasty escape out the backdoor at last year’s AGM for fear of being lynched by the baying hash mob, the “WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE”, Sharpcard Louis moseyed down the dusty high street into Hashville, tethered his stead to the rails outside the saloon, walked up the 5 timber steps, across the creaking timber sidewalk and pushed the swing doors wide open. The piano music stopped momentarily as his weathered but vaguely familiar face, hooded by another of his many wide brimmed fashionista hats, became clearer to a motley lot inside the saloon. A painted bar hostess was the first to fully recognise him, (as she would do…wouldn’t she?) and gave him a long, luscious wink and a purse of her
ruby red lips whilst nodding her head towards one of the upstairs bedrooms.
Sharpcard chose to ignore her on this occasion, purposefully making his way to the bar where he tossed a silver dollar onto the counter and beckoned for half a bottle of whisky and a shot glass. Grabbing his liquid nourishment he then wandered across the smoke filled room to the gaming table headed up but none less than (John Henry) “Doc”Holliday, pulled out a chair sat down and motioned for his hand to be dealt. All in total silence. Slowly picking up his hand of cards Sharpcard Louis held them close to his chest and also let them slip down to the cuffs of his shirtsleeves; such is his slippery card playing style. Occasionally looking up under the brim of his fashion hat, he slowly rearranged
his cards, one by one, never once Doc Holliday was sitting at the head of ShapCard’s gaming table moving them away from his chest or shirt sleeves. At long last he slowly laid down is hand face up and mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Royal Flush, beat that”. An audible gasp was heard across the table and the whole saloon, whilst he slowly reached over the table and dragged the piles of money towards him.
“And whilst we are about it boys” he continued, “I’ll take the summer run in winter thanks”. Doc Holliday never made a move, knowing all too well that it was far better to have an ally in the future with someone as shifty and slippery as Sharpcard Louis than an opponent right now.
This is the true story of how Khyber and Tyre Fruck had their annual gig stolen from right under their noses. But more was to come. Knowing full well that he now had 60 or more pesky Hashville citizens to please, SharpCard then set about a recruitment program.
First up though, the trail had to be recced and set, but using only his best and most trusted friends….. decks of cards, of course. Plus one very special friend
fresh from Gotham City …….The Joker.
Now talk about running with the living dead, using The Joker at every junction of the trail would surely keep the boys on their heels. The more so, as the slow tarts of the pack would face certain cold and darkness, which is never a good time to be out and haunted by the bloody Joker.
As it was, the saloon piano player, affectionately called by the all the saloon hostesses as their very own “Mr Music Man” (as he frequently tinkled their toes and other sensitive and very sensuous spots) and his been counting mate, who is always a Good Choice, and the saloon hood and pimp, Calici all drew blood on the run in Cripple Creek, Dead Man’s
Gulch and Death Crossing respectively. Surely this makes them true Blood Brothers in a bid to get even with that two timing, double crossing, fickle fingered Sharpcard Louis.
Why So serious Huhhhh?” Last Card’s Joker Mate Knowing that he was also way out of his depth, that Cad and Bounder hare, Sharpcard also engaged the services of that world renowned philanthropist, Lord Pilko of the British Empire. “Sir, I Remain Your
Obedient Servant to the Great Cause Pilko” was the true hero of the night.
Reputation of his gourmet soup kitchens and services to the poor are legendary.
And judging by the content of the car park at the Barrabrui Workhouse that night, it is
staggering and shameful to think that in this first world of the 21st century that such
poverty can exist. Looking at some of the vehicles it was obvious that so many are
doing it really tough in the post GFC months and surely they must be down to their last
$million, or God forbid, even their last $100,000.
The line up to the evening soup kitchen was eager as it was pitifully hungry. The
‘Prisoners of Poverty’ were all wearing their workhouse uniform……the navy blue track
suit with that distinctive flash of pale blue and yellow; inserted so that any escapees
into the community can be easily identified and returned to their rightful place of
domicile……..the workhouse. But one might think that the food was therefore for free,
right?
No such luck! Mr Bumble (Head of the workhouse) had bumptiously positioned
himself between the head of the queue and the food, and was unabashedly removing
loose coins and other small promissory bank notes from their person in exchange for their
Luckily Lord Pilko knowing only too well the miserly and penny pinching ways of Mr Bumble had prepared twice as much food than even the portly Mr Bumble could tuck into and thereby brought the dejected souls back to life again. T’was a sad and telling moment too that the resident numbers within the Barrabrui workhouse were so numerous as to cause a shortage of space for them to partake of their evening gruel, which for the record was: –
Pumpkin soup with a touch of ginger and a dob of sour cream served with sour dough bread followed by Corned Beef with white sauce infused with parsley, served with mash potato, sliced carrots and peas. Desert, an almost unheard of course in the
workhouse was traditional English Bread and Butter pudding with ice cream.
Oliver Twist made several return trips for “May I have some more please Sirrrr?” until young Oliver became so stuffed that he looked curiously like XXXX, The Best of Dick, Copraphilla or even Mr Bumble himself.
Still smarting from their trouncing at the saloon card table, Messrs Khyber and Tyre Fruck together with their diminutive mate CentrePoint got in on the act and helped with the serving and dish collecting.
And if Lord Pilko’s efforts weren’t enough, the other philanthropic souls of the committee including a guest committee man, one Mr DuckWeave brought tidings of good cheer…….in the form of mugs of boutique ale and heart warming wines to beat the cold during the grip of winter as darkness fell outside.
A celebratory toast was made to a hashman (sailor man) with so much excessive fitness and energy, a man who has now triumphed not once, not twice but a third time of completing an Oxfam Trail Walk (100 kms non stop) in each of the eastern seaboard cities:- Melbourne, Sydney and now Brisbane. Insane but highly commendable. Knowing what it takes to walk and jog through the night non-stop and beat one’s body against the odds; take a bow Molly Meldrum for all the effort spent and all the money you have
raised for charity. Let’s put him up there with Tic-Toc, Music Man for their services to charity this year and of course Lord Pilko whose services for the night were of inestimable value.
Thanks to Last Card Louis and Pilko for organizing a top evening for all who attended his annual red letter day event.
Your Hash Journo