Utterly Mad

Amy groaned, feeling exhausted from watching the hens so late last night. Recently, Amy could see coyotes out on the horizon and at night their deep howls kept her awake and worried. Amy slowly rose from her bed like a vampire from a coffin. The light was already piercing through the slits in her blinds lighting up her tanned, freckled face. Amy blew a strand of hair out from her tangled rats nest, and slipped out from the sheets onto the floor. Amy stretched as the roosters cooed from the barn, her arms felt sore from putting in the extra mile of work, and her feet felt blistered from walking around in those boots all day. They were starting to get a bit too small for Amy, but she loved them too much to get rid of them.

The clacking of silverware and dishes was inviting to Amy as she stepped down the stairs wearing her blue blouse. The color was amplified by the bright, morning sun. She wore some patchwork cozies, that weren't all that comfy, but great for not having to get dressed so early. Amy walked into the kitchen with a loud yawn, her hair piled high, uncombed and leaning like the tower of Pisa.

"Mornin' Pa, Ma." Amy said as she morosely pulled out a chair. She watched her Ma cook and her Pa reading up on something. "C'n I get a lil' extra bacon this mornin'?" Amy asked fiddling with her fork. Her stomach growled at the smell of delicious pork sizzled. Her favorite.

John grumbled as he lifted his head from his warm pillow. The Sun was piercing through the veil of his window onto his blackened eye which he then instictivly covered with the hand not under the pillow. He eventually rose from his bed and got dressed quickly. Grandpa always took the flap-jacks and if he wanted any, he'd have to hussle. He tried his best to hurry, but the most he could muster up was a slow shamble down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He let out a quiet, "Morning." Before shuffling over to the seat next to Sis.

Amy watched her half-dead brother walk into the room. Amy wondered who was looking more ragged this morning. "Late night for you two?" She greeted John with a quaint morning smile. A puff of her hair slumped to the side touching her face which she put back up.

"You could certainly say that." He said quietly to her as he felt on his person what he had. Last night was rough when another bar fight started and someone said just how cute Amy was. He quietly poured a bit of whiskey from the bottle he saved into his morning coffee and sipped.

Amy rolled her eyes as John poured the whiskey. He was already going at it this early. No wonder he's so tired... She looked back to her parents to see if they saw him, as if they would mind very much. Maybe Ma, but Pa.... He wouldn't mind that much. As Amy looked around the room aimlessly to the sound of cooking food, she noticed a small bruise on her brother's neck. "Didja run into a door or sumpin again, John?" She giggled as she hovered a finger dangerously close to poking the sore.

Spoiler: ooc (hover to show)

((hope you don't mind I'm assuming there's a bruise on John. Just tryna keep things interesting))

Ma' turned around from the stove, holding a hot skillet with two mitted hands, waves of heat emanated from the bacon inside. "Careful now its still- oh, Lord." Ma' looked at Amy with a stern look that could make a coyote stand at attention. "Amy, you know what I dun' told you about sitting at the table with out your hair done up. Now go back upstairs and straighten yourself up, thank ya' hon." She set the sizzlin' skillet right at the center of the table, with it resting on her oven-mitt.

"Yeah, we don't want them slavers out in the south to take ya' away." Your Father cackled from behind his newspaper, before quickly being swatted by Nana. "Hey! What did I say about them jokes?", she said pulling down his newspaper as he rubbed the back of his head. "Alright Ma', you don't have to hit so damn hard." She then swatted him again for cussing at the table.

"Now you two knock it off. No wonder your kids dun' turn out like they did." Your pappy said grabbing three flapjacks onto his fork and plopping down on his plate. An awkward silence so thick you could cut it with a knife, loomed over the table as everyone silently gathered their food, and hopefully Amy got up to gussy herself up.

John was about to tell his Sis, but before that could happen, Ma got to her first. He smiled and said, "I'll tell you later Sis. You better hurry up though, else your food will pull a magic trick and disappear."

Amy pulled her finger away from John. "Awh but Ma...." Amy lightly thumped her nimble hands on the table. She looked to Ma, pouting her pout. Her eyes glistened, but Ma wasn't budging. Ma nodded her head to the direction of the stairs and got back to cooking. She glared at grandpa as he stacked up the flackjacks. This morning she could vividly taste the grossness of morning mouth, but now she could taste something bitter.

"I hope you choke, you ol' coot..." She grumbled to her self as she stomped up the stairs and into her room where she would roughly, and quickly, comb her hair to modest perfection.

Spoiler: OOC (hover to show)

Where is small text when you need it

Flynn's head was tiredly slumped against his pillow, and it was a huge struggle for him to get up. Last night was... quite a night. He'd only just started to go into bars and stuff, and his brother was always starting fights. Flynn tried to help last night - nobody talked about his sister like that - but bar fights weren't really his strong point... he wished he was a good brawler, and tough... like his brother.

"Guhhh..." Flynn groaned, but his eyes widened as he smelt bacon. Breakfast! Crap - he wasn't going to miss it again! Jumping out of bed and quickly and roughly making himself look somewhat presentable, Flynn burst out his room, almost bumping into Amy as she stormed up the stairs.

"Y-yikes! Sorry, Sis... did ma... u-uh..." Flynn began, but his sis had already gone into her room, looking somewhat annoyed. Flynn would have thought on the matter more, if bacon wasn't available for eating!

Flynn stormed down the stairs, slowing down once he entered the kitchen with a concerned look.
"S-Sorry ah' slept in a bit... last night was... u-uh... busy!"

The skies were a deep blue, with only the thick fluffy pure-white clouds hovered way up in the skies like ships sailing in the sea. You could smell the sweet aroma of flowers as your boots creaked the floor panels of your porch, looking out at your lay of land you took a deep breath savoring the scent of pine and oak that surrounded your house. Green grass with patches of dried grass grew in front of your house and stretched all the way to the front gate way up wonder, it stood boldly against the yellows and golds that surrounded it.

You squinted, the sun was especially bright today, causing heat to rise out of the dirt path leading to the barn. Crunch, your footsteps echoed throughout the prairie as you walked down the dried out dirt path towards the barn; where your mother was, preparing the wagon for your trip into town.

Light poked into the barn through the small cracks and holes that littered the barns roof, causing beautiful sun-rays to shine over the wagon and your mother who was preparing it. More sunlight was let in as you and your siblings pushed the large wooden doors open, startling your poor ole' mother.

"Heaven above!", she jumped back clutching her heart. "I didn't think ya'll would be out here so soon," She paused as she looked over Amy. "You look beatiful, see what happens when you take care of yourself. Here let me straighten up your hair... no, no.... stop moving. I gotta get it up under your hat- boys, would you finish getting the bulls hooked up to the wagon?" Your mother asked helping Amy with her hair.

"Ya Mama, it shouldn't be a hassle. Flynn, grab the other please." John said in his usual stern voice as he grabbed the reigns of the other bull and led it out in front of the wagon. Today was going to go to shit quick and it wasn't his hang-over talkn'.

"Ma! M' hairs fine!" Amy tries to push away the brutal, protruding fingers of Ma, but they're no match for her unskilled hands and Ma pecks and pokes at Amy's head from under her hat. Amy is silent and takes the abuse as she watches her brothers do all the hardwork. Secretly, she felt like doing all the heavy lifting with'm, but not, it was just the 'look-pretty-sew-neatly' life for her.

"Gotcha," Flynn said, taking the reign of the other horse, briefly petting it before moving leading it to the wagon. "C'mon, girl, over ye' come." Flynn cooed to the horse, following his brother as he squinted in the sunlight. T'was a dang good day today; perfect for travelling, and no matter how long he stayed here, Flynn had always loved the captivating aroma around his home.

Either way, Flynn wanted to get this outta' the way A.S.A.P. He had some moolah to win later, after all.

"Alright, ya'll remember what ya' need to pick up in town?", she asks you. Making sure you have the list.

Flynn pulls out a crumpled piece of paper with pencil markings showing their "chore list" of things to do in town, while his brother takes the reins of the cattle and helps his sister into the wagon. She knocks John's hand away as she climbed into the seat next to him.

*insert your responses here* [If you wish, just RP your responses. I really want to get the ball rolling, also I might make some bits more fictionalized. I might need to look it up, but I'm going to have parts of the railway already complete; but only in very busy parts of California.

"Alrighty, supper should be done by the time you get back home. Now git goin' I want you guys back before sun down." You both spanks the Bulls on the behind, spooking them and causing them to dash out of the barn full-speed. Pulling the reins left, you all swing the wagon out of the yard and into prairie, with a large cloud of dust trailing behind you. Behind you, through the thick clouds of tan-colored dust: you see your mother, hands over her chest slowly waving goodbye. Before walking off back towards the house.



A Ennio Travels Production

Your wagon rattles across the rocky dirt path, dusty clouds trail behind the worn-out wagon wheels. Tall grass gently flows with the California breeze that blows throughout the prairie this sunny afternoon. The smell of leaves and sand punctuate the air, with your nose slowly becoming clogged as dirt kicked up by your bulls flies into your face.

Screenplay By: Vinny Jackson and Marty McDonald

Past the kicked up dirt, and through your squinted eyes you see it: The Town of Lockjaw. The rickety sign pointing towards the town, collapsed as you passed by it. On the side of the road you see some men, all dressed in bright blue and red clothing. All armed to the teeth with rifles, shotguns, and large bundles of dynamite are strapped around their waist or across their chest. Must be damn prospectors.

Starring: Furaotic as, "Amy Ricochet", Lorknis as, "John 'McShale'", and Jakers as, "Flynn Ricochet"

You fly into town, John pulls back on the reigns causing the bulls heads to jerk back. They roar but slowly begin to stop. A few people jump out of the way as you stop in front of the: "Fat Pioneer Saloon". Reaching into his pocket Flynn pulls out the list of "chores" and shows it to everyone in the wagon.

Music By: Flint Westwood and Geoff Crossings

List of chores:

-Pick up a case of malk milk
-Drop off the crates filled with Deer Corn over at Mikey's
-Stop by your aunties and tell them we'll head down to Jackson by Friday
-Head into the saloon and tell the pianist there that his money is coming
-Make sure to grab sugar and salt by the general store, and if Marley is there; tell 'em I said HI
-Then pick up some axles from the smithy, then replace the ones on your wagon before you head home

-XOXOXOXOXO Mom

PS: Don't tell your father this but, I'm picking him up a surprise from Marley

"Alright you two, in order to make this quick I want both of you to grab the malk, drop off the deer corn, and head by Aunties. I should be able to cover everything else." He said as he hopped off the wagon and picked up the Case of Deer Corn to hand it to Flynn.

"Yeah, yeah... I remember what to go n' git, ma..." Flynn lies, squinting under the sun at the list of chores. He wasn't the strongest reader that ever existed, so it took him a while to look through the list. The sun was beating down on his back, causing sweat to drip down under his broad hat.

"Well uh... I wouldn't mind poppin' to the saloon to git' that out the way real quick." Flynn says with a somewhat nervous tone. The truth was that Flynn wouldn't mind going to the saloon to get the chore done, and to quickly win another game of Five Finger Fillet to earn a few bucks... it wouldn't hurt! He'd just return to the gang later as if nothing ever happened.

Duncan

Grabbing the heavy crate full of what is essentially toxic deer bait, you go to hand it to someone. Nearly dropping the crate on your foot. *THUD* the crate shouted out as it slammed on the hard sandy path. Luckily it didn't shatter, behind you, you see your brother head into the saloon, and over in the distance you see your sister head into the general store.

And then there's you, with a crate of bait at your feet with a dumb look on your face. People are starting to stare at the beautiful Ricochet boy as if he'd become mentally handicapped from tonic abuse.

Flynn

Sunlight flooded the musty and dusty saloon, with the light revealing the thick dust particles that floated through the air like calm snow on a cold November day. It smelled of stale malt liquors, piss, with a hint of dried blood permeating the air. Upstairs you heard "escorts" whistling towards the more drunker patrons to a nice night with them, the slamming of piano keys boldly stood out against the loud chatter of its patrons, then there was the sound of the town drunkards pissing their time away in the small corner of the bar:

"Ja' fukn' wetalds you *hic* arre. I meahn I spent maih deys in dis ere' bar and what'd I git, no-tin' not a go-*vomiting*. *burrrp* n-nnot a gooshdurn ting!"

"Shit yer' mouth larnny, I don' wanna git toss-d ourt agave!"

"Baah, fuk you all."

He drunkenly stumbles towards the entrance, colliding into you before falling flat on his face as he passed through the doors.

On the other side of the bar there's some men and women gathered around a smelly and bloody table, with a man sitting on one side. Quickly stabbing the table, with his hand spread out where he is stabbing, barely missing his fingers and showing great control over where that knife goes... even without looking. He looks like he's chatting up some of them girls that pa' don't want you hanging around.

This man's opponent, looks pretty tough but his hands tell all. He's jittery, afraid, and before you know it- "GAHH FUCK!" blood leaks off the table, amassing other deep-red puddle around the table's left legs. The butch man then gets up from the table, sobbing and holding his gashed open finger, shaking violently as he walked out.

"Hey you, over at the entrance. You look pretty tough, wanna go a round!?", he arrogantly shouts at you holding up the saloon's Five Finger Fillet knife.

Amy

Swinging open the door, followed by the familiar ringing of the bell, you enter the quaint general store with a little bit of everything for day-to-day existence. Taking in it's dusty wooden smell as you walked past the small shelves containing: "Mr.Pooties Beans" "AJ Brand Health Tonic for Gingivitis" and "Sweeney Toad's Blood Candies: For Soar and Dry Throats".

In the back behind the counter you see Marley, a man with a handle bar mustache and the hair of a fancy pugilist. He looks up and a smile begins to emerge from that bushy blonde mustache that graces his well-chiseled face. "Well if it ain't [Ma']Mary-Ann's daughter. How is she doin' anyhow?", he politely asks you in that charming voice of his. He reaches under the counter, what ever he's grabbing at it sounds like its in a brown paper back. It might be your father's surprise.

"Gah... god damn it. I swear on high that boy doesn't listen..." He mumbles to himself as he picks up the crate and begins to where it needs to be dropped off.

Amy smiled at the family friend and tipped her wide hat. "She's doing very well, Marley!" She said as she walked past the short, stubby shelves with goods on them. Amy glanced for moment at the bubbling tonics on the shelves. Her Ma didn't believe in the damn things, and that's where Amy got her prejudice against them. Amy looked back to Marley. "Ma says hi, by the way!" She said walking to the other aisle and grabbing the bag of sugar and salt. Amy carried the hefty bags and placed them on the counter. Slightly out of breath, she pointed to the brown bag. "Is this for Ma too?"

"Heheh. Nothin' like a lil' o' that to get the veins flowin'!" Flynn announces with a pleased grin, clapping his hands and getting to his feet again. He winces a little as he looks at the remains of blood splattered on the table. Poor bastard. Should've known there ain't barely anyone around better with a knife than he was.

Blinking a little and remembering his task, Flynn swerves past the tables of drunkards, narrowly dodging some staggering fool blathering about someone else's mother being a tart. Jeez, this place sure was the pits - but at least the music was good... music... ah! Right! The pianist.

Trying to be as casual as possible as he walks up to the pianist, Flynn's eyes narrowly dart around before he slides next to the man playing the piano. Discreetly, Flynn tries not to interrupt the pianist's playing as he whispers in his ear:
"Yer' money's comin'. S' from my old lady, I think ye' know what I mean."

Flynn then slides away as casually as possible, although his interpretation of 'casual' looked like he was trying to perform a high-end drug deal.

"Gonna 'ave to get me some a that action real quick." Duncan thought to himself as he lifted his crate through the hunting lodge. He would place it where ever it needed to go then Grab Georgie's crate.