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This is your Wedding Day
A time to celebrate
The culmination of your love
Has brought on this lovely fate

There is a certain kind of magic
That exists between the two of you
It can easily be seen
In all that you both do

The caring, the sharing
The laughter, the fun
Throw in a little argument
And neither of you run

Together you face the days
Where ever they may soar
With a love that is destined to stay
Now and forever more

This Gift

This gift is but a token of
Our wish for you: a life of love.

doves

wedding cake

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Congratulations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How it all began...

Some say it was round something to do with this...

arm-wrestling

...or maybe a while before then...

Many, many years ago, back in the Wild West it all began...

(written by a certain P Yates...)

OutFront Goes Wild West

We’re two days out of Smuttyville on the Cheyenne road and just making camp for the night. Ian is preparing the beans again. God how I hate those bloody beans! Ian loves them so he won't be sleeping too near the campfire tonight. Not after last night’s near disaster when Womble was blown into the tree and Dan and I lost our eyebrows. It's pretty hard to look sinister without eyebrows but somehow Dan manages it. Me, I just look facially bald.

Let me give you an update on our situation. We now have some extra horses. Spooky and his deputies are walking back to town buck naked with their hands tied behind their backs. It was the least we could do... They might get back okay, they might not. Either way they ain't botherin' us no more. So we now have a horse each and a spare for Carol if we catch them varmints in time, or for Carol's body ifin we don’t. I mean to take her back for a proper burial (and pick up the price on her head dead or alive. $50 may not be much but it's still money).

They call me the Donkey on account of my mean streak and my obstinacy (some say there maybe another reason but I don't like to talk about that because the ladies get excited and the men git jealous). I'm a gunslinger and a drifter; my weapon of choice is the Colt 45 and I can shoot the testicles off a mosquito at fifty yards so cleanly he won’t realise till he tries to get jiggy jiggy with Mrs mosquito. You would want to be on my side if we get into a fight.

Around the fire we see the other members of this gang that has terrorised the OutFront Territories since the civil war. Hailing out of Smuttyville folks call us the Smut Brigade. We are a mean bunch of hombres. We take from the rich and the poor - we are equal opportunity criminals.

On my left sits Womble, she's a strange one. Left in the desert as a youngster to fend for herself after her parents were ethnically cleansed by the 7th cavalry, she lived on her wits, running wild with the coyotes and wolves, scavenging what food she could and barely surviving. Ian and I found her half starved and dying of thirst just outside of Dodge city a few years back. With some hard work and a lot of whiskey Ian taught her to understand English almost as good as what we do. She's an invaluable member of the gang mainly because of her tracking skills she has the sensitive nose of a coyote.

Further round the fire stands Dan or Dpf as he likes to be known. He dresses all in black and carries two pearl handled pistols, although he is a knife man by persuasion. He always wears a bandolier of finely balanced throwing knives and carries the biggest bowie knife you will ever see in a sheath worn between his shoulder blades. I've seen him kill a man from thirty feet away before the poor devil could get his iron outta his holster. You don't wanna cross Dan unless you got a death wish.

Ian, aka the Golfer, is a strange one alright, he is a Mexican bandito with the biggest sombrero money can buy. They call him Golfer because that's how he does his killin’. In a short range fight it's a sand wedge, long distance he can kill a man with a single shot using his no.5 iron and a small white ball. I've known Golfer since we were youngsters scammin' the marks on the Louisiana riverboat run. One of the best poker players I've met; apart from me of course.

Tail, a sultry beauty, sits alone on a rock a few feet away from the fire. She has her knees drawn up as if for protection and a Winchester rifle lays on the rock by her side. She still don't trust any of the menfolk on account of how we all look a bit shifty and we have been alone in the desert for some time. She's safe enough from me. I was only ever interested in Carol; damn her eyes! Ian seems to be looking out for Womble, but Dan and Taz seem to be building up some tension there which we will need to defuse in a few days before it gets ugly. Tail - that's a nickname as in "piece of" - is a good time girl, formerly Madam Jaybee's best girl and the most popular with the visiting cowboys. There was some sort of a commotion one day regarding the town’s physician ole "Doc Type", Tail said he made the wrong declaration so she shot him stone dead with that little one shot derringer she keeps hidden in a place no gentleman would look. Jaybee lied for her and Old Spooky was convinced it was self defense so they let her go, but her heart weren't in the saloon business no more so she joined us because killin' is her thing now and she's mighty good at it.

Now we come to Taz, the only known survivor of the appropriately named "Little Big Horn" massacre, a former sergeant in the seventh cavalry. Taz is our 'munitions man. He knows several ways to blow a man apart using a wide variety of heavy artillery and commonly found household chemicals. On his belt hang the scalps of all the injuns he's killed personally and a few white men's too. Taz don't speak much but when he do you'd better listen good.

He tips his hat over his eyes and lays out on his bedroll.

We all turn in but Tail. She's taking the first watch. Soon she will wake me to take over but I can't sleep.

I'm thinkin' about Carol. Is she okay? Did she manage to hide the gold before they caught her? I lay there with all these thoughts going round in my poor brain like women’s frilly underwear in a wash tub. Then sleep takes me at last.

And later...

Back in Smuttyville Miss Jaybee is a frettin’. The smut gang are out of town and now the posse has been wiped out by that Indian attack. Spooky said they were all dead when his group got to the scene and he lost half his men including his two deputies Bobby and Rodger.

She’s worried because right now she ain’t makin’ no money. Nobody’s buying no whiskey or no pussy. Why the girls have taken to entertaining each other lately to keep up their skills, and some of them seem to like it a little bit too much. As she walks back to the saloon from her latest business venture she rips out a massive fart. 'Good job I ain't wearin' no panties today,' she thinks. 'I'd a had to wash them again and that woulda been twice this year; I don’t want to wear them out as I only got the one pair.'

Proudly she looks back at her new restaurant. Above the bright red building the letters J & B rise up towering like big golden arches. Proudly the sign on the wall says "JayBees Eatin' House - The finest Western Cuisine".

She’s so proud of the variety of different ways that they can serve beans. There’s nothing else on the menu, but you can have them steamed, boiled, fried, roasted, mashed, served a l'orange, or even raw as the main constituent of J & B's legendary "one bean salad", a big hit with the ladies and the main reason for the earlier massive fart.

'One day,' she thinks, 'there will be a chain of these all over America I’ll call it ‘Beans R us" or "Beans to Go"'

Stepping over Andy the town drunk, still reeking of that vile cider he makes out of pears an’ cactus juice, she walks into the saloon and pours herself a large slug of her finest sippin' whiskey, then downs it in one go. Andy is led in the doorway of the saloon with a huge smile on his face and his tongue hanging down to his knees. As she wanders over to him he is talking under his breath. "I seen it, I seen it, it were lovely my handsome." His accent is still reminiscent of the Somerset village he left some thirty years ago. For a moment she wonders what he is talking about, then she remembers that she stepped over him and she isn’t wearing any panties. His eyes glaze over again. "Like a big black cat with its throat cut, I never seen one before". He’s started snoring now and doesn’t feel the first impact as the chair breaks over his head, then he gets up and aided by her boot in his ass, shuffles off to find somewhere to sleep it off.

She turns and catches sight of herself in the big mirror behind the bar. Instinctively she sucks in her gut and thrusts out her ample breasts blowing herself a kiss and winking. "You’ve still got it kiddo" she whispers "What Donkey sees in the skinny Carol is beyond me I’ll bet she’s only a size 10. He’s lucky he don’t break her in two with his great manly arms. He needs a real woman just like me. Plenty to get hold of."

She downs her third whiskey, farts loudly, and vows to herself that she’ll steal him away from Carol somehow.

Ironically, at that precise moment out in the desert Donkey and Carol lie entwined in each others arms recovering from the best and most mind blowing sex either of them have ever had. They don’t speak because at times like this nothing needs to be said, she is radiant and he just can’t stop smiling. He looks down at her lithe sensual body and gazes into those perfect emerald grey eyes (he could stare into those eyes for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t be enough), for a fleeting moment he compares her to Jaybee and smiles contentedly knowing he’s made the right choice. Still holding her he turns so they can cuddle; fitted together like spoons. As he turns he feels her give a slight shiver. "What’s up baby?" "I don’t know honey. I guess someone just walked over my grave".

Back in the Saloon Jaybee sits on a cowboy’s knee trying to smile, but she’s had too much whiskey so the self-control has gone. Tears stream down her cheeks and sobbing she runs up stairs to her room.

Donkey holds Carol tightly and gently kisses the back of her shapely neck. In the distance a coyote howls.

aw, it a cute flying angel! the bride and groom glasses Find Love
Disclaimer

Jaybee wishes to say...... "Ha, ha, ha, ha, not in your wildest dreams mate"

...funny, that's what the now Mrs Donkey used to say...
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