A Real Rocky Adventure

So, for this assignment, we were suppose to create a piece using 2-3 different sources that’s roughly 2-3 pages. I don’t know if it’s good thing or a bad thing, but I can never seem to stick with the guidelines of writing. 
So, my piece is a little over 3 pages.
But, I do have at least 2 sources in them (though one is in part larger than the other). 

Anyway, I’ve been sick for the past couple of days, meaning I’ve been doing nothing but sitting on the couch watching Westerns with my mom (as apparently that’s the only thing that’s on daytime TV that’s not shitty cartoons or soap operas). In addition, I’ve been reading a book for my Children’s literature class titled If I Ever Get Out Of Here, which is the title of a Paul McCartney & Wings album (as well as song–“Band On The Run”). In addition, the book itself features a lot of Beatles and Paul McCartney references, which got me thinking–since I can writing this assignment in any way I choose, why not write about a Beatles song? 

Naturally, it was a rather difficult selection. How do you pick from some of the greatest songs ever made in the history of music (and I will fight anyone who speaks against this, as if it weren’t for The Beatles, half the bands AND an entire genre of music, wouldn’t exist and be popular today)? 

Looking up at one of the Westerns playing (okay, so I count Bonanza as a western…it’s doesn’t have John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart or any other famous actor/actress in it, nor is it “technically” a movie, but it still counts. Plus, young Michael Landon is easy on the eyes…, so I give it credit), it hit me. 

Why not do a story about Rocky Raccoon and place it in a Western setting?
(technically it’s already in a “western setting”–it takes place in the “black mining hills of North Dakota”, but I live in a rural town outside of a two cities, what the hell do I know about “out West” and cowboys and cattle and saloons?)

So, to sum up, I took the lyrics to The Beatles’ “Rocky Raccoon”, combined it with a couple of elements I got while watching Bonanza (which isn’t as stupid as some people make it out to be. At least the episode I was watching was pretty good. There was some evil red-head chick trying to sell out the local saloon or something, and she was playing every one of the Bonanza regulars. It was kinda cool), and Presto!

I get this story:

He walked into the dusty old motel, an old duffle bag in one hand and a gun tucked into his back pocket of the dirty jeans he wore. He looked up through his long, yellow eyelashes, and scanned the room. He let out a sigh, and walked over towards the check-in desk. He cleared his throat and waited for someone to come and check him in. He tapped his dirt-covered fingernails on the counter’s marble surface, sighed once more, and stretched his neck to try to see if anyone was in the little room behind the desk.

            Palmer Raccoon, who called himself Rocky from time to time, huffed and continued to beat down on the desk with so much force that he broke one of his finger nails. He yelped and pulled his finger up to his mouth to bite off the broken nail. He fixed the brown cowboy hat covering up his messy-long blond hair and turned around, his eyes crinkling from the bright sunlight pouring in through a window.

            “Can I help you, sir?” A cheerful voice said. Rocky turned back around and tried his best to smile at the small woman in front of him. She wore her bright yellow hair back in a high ponytail behind her. Her water blue management suit was wrinkled from the waist up, suggesting she had been doing something rough earlier. He figured she was about thirty or so, ranging from five feet three to five feet five. He didn’t know why he always sized people up whenever he met them, he just did. It was a habit he’d picked up when he was little, and he’d always done it to every person he’d ever met.

            He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m checking in. Under Raccoon?” He continued to size her up. She had a small gap in between her two front teeth and light blue twinkling eyes a little too close to her ever-perfect fairy nose.

            “Raccoon, Raccoon, Raccoon…oh, here you are, Mr. Raccoon. Rocky, is it? Well, sir, you’ll be in room 203 for the next three nights. I hope you enjoy your stay, and if there’s anything you need, be sure to just call the front desk! Here you go!” She handed him a small key-card and smiled once again, the gap between her teeth making itself more prominent than ever.

            Rocky smiled back at her and fixed the strap from his duffle bag. He walked down the red carpeting until he reached the stairwell and opened up the doorway. His boots clicked on the tile floor all the way up to the second floor of the motel. He walked the hallway until he reached room 203, slid the card into the door handle, and opened up the door.

            He flipped on the light, and let the door find its way back to the wall. The room was in a sea-green theme: the walls gray with sea-green trim, the poor excuse for carpeting also a sea-green color. He walked over to the single queen-sized bed and threw his duffle bag on it. He took out the small revolver from his back pocket and wandered about the small room until he located the safe. He set the gun gently down in it, shut the door, and took out the key that locked it.

            Somehow, once the gun was tucked away, he felt secure. Almost like he had nothing to do but relax. But, that was not the case. He had come here for a reason. He wouldn’t have left his house to come to Dakota even if someone would have paid him a million dollars. But this, this was different.

            Lillian MaGill, who was always known as Nancy, after her great-grandmother, had broken his heart by running off with some guy. He could still remember the look in her eyes when she told him about leaving him; that look of not regretting anything. Her brown eyes were straight forward, a bag in one hand, and the keys to the car that sat outside their house in the other. She walked right out without saying anything, not even so much as a good-bye or a reason why she was leaving him.

            Rocky shook his head and reached into his duffel bag to pull out a twenty dollar-bill. He opened up the door and walked out of the room. He smiled at the girl and walked out of the motel to look for somewhere to get a drink.

            He walked around the town until he found a sign hanging crooked over the top of an old, run-down building that read “Local Saloon, since 1889”. He walked in and looked around. There wasn’t much; a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. Two men were perched up by the bar, each sitting on opposite sides, slowly sipping beers and munching on peanuts. An older man, with gray hair framing his round, bald top was busy talking to a young woman that vaguely reminded him of Lillian. They nodded and she walked away, leaving the old man free to stare at Rocky.

            “You comin’ in, or what?” The old man’s voice was rather loud for someone who looked to only to be five seven, five nine at the most. He hunched over and picked up a glass. “Come on, first one’s free. You new around here?”

            Rocky walked over to the old man and sat down. He nodded his head and looked up through his eyelashes once again.

            “So, what’s your story of coming to a ghost town like this? By the way, name’s Doc. Or at least, that’s what everyone here calls me. So, you can call me that too. No reason in givin’ you my real name, you’d just laugh. Anyway, what can I get for ya? Name yer  poison, as they say in the city.” Doc smiled and winked, his blue eyes flashing in the sunlight.

            “How about a shot. Straight up?” Rocky said. Doc winked again and prepared the drink. Rocky waited for the small shot glass to slide down by him. He picked it up and tossed it down, cringing. He huffed, and set the tiny cup back down on the bar.

            “You never did tell me your story, boy.” Doc placed his arms down on the bar and rested his head on his hands. His bright blue eyes burned into Rocky’s own brown ones, and suddenly, he felt as if he should tell everything to him—like something was forcing him into it.

            “Palmer Raccoon. But everyone calls me Rocky.” He nodded his head toward the liquor and waited for Doc to fill the tiny, thimble-sized shot glass.

            “Nice to meet you, Rocky. Glad to have you here in Dakota. So, tell ol’ Doc whatcha doin’ here, and maybe I can help you in some way. I’m called the Doc for a reason, ya know.” Doc smiled and reached under the bar to grab a glass. He walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed the gin bottle, his giant hands grasping it in such a way that you could only see its neck.

            Rocky cleared his throat and watched as Doc poured himself a glass of gin.

            “Oh, don’t mind this—I need something to calm my nerves—just got a bit of news that’s gunna effect my entire weekend profit.” Doc made his way around the bar and sat next to Rocky, the stool next to him practically begging not to be sat on it was in such pitiful shape.

            “Oh yeah?” Rocky questioned. He tossed his second round and cringed again, the liquor warming up his heart. “What’s so bad that you need an entire cup of gin for?”

            Doc looked up at him and sighed. “There’s this tag-team that roams from saloon to saloon for a ‘traveling’ act. They try to put on a show but just end up robbin’ everyone from their money since they don’t do nothin’ but go on stage drunk as a horse and clown around. The people feel jipped and they take it out on the saloon owner. Those two damn scam-artists, tryin’ to ruin my good name! Curse those MaGills! Aey!” Doc tipped up his glass and slowly sipped up every last drop of Gin.

            Rocky stared at Doc, unable to believe what he had just heard. “MaGills? Would one of them happen to be named Nancy?”

            Doc put down his glass and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s it to ya? You know them or something?”

            Rocky slammed his fist on the bar. “Doc, just tell me, is one of them Nancy? Calls herself Lil from time to time? Are they the ones you talking about?”

            Doc stared back at Rocky. “Don’t git yer panties in a twist, there, Rocky. Yeah, one of ‘em’s named Nancy. The other calls himself Dan. Now what’s this all about?”

            Rocky stopped breathing for a second. His entire body seemed to shake with rage. “Dan. Dan MaGill. That…that son-of-a-bitch stole her away from me! THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH! I’m gonna KILL that bastard!”

            Rocky stood up from the bar and walked out of the saloon, leaving Doc in a confused stare. Dan MaGill had been Lillian’s first husband—the one she divorced to be with Rocky in the first place. ‘Why would she have left me to return to him?’ he thought. ‘Why would she do that after what…after what he did to her!’

            Rocky got back to his room and walked over to his safe, taking out the key from his pocket and opening it up, revealing the gun he had stashed there for just such an occasion. He had originally planned to simply kill who ever had taken Lillian away from him, but this, hearing that his rival had stolen her back, outraged him to the point where he couldn’t see straight. He walked out of his room in a blind rage, loading bullets into his gun, making his way back to the Local Saloon so he could wait for Daniel MaGill to walk in, unsuspecting, and become one with the dirt.

            Rocky walked into the saloon, the gun swinging back and forth in his hand. He walked over to the bar to get another shot to give him a confidence boost when he saw her. Lillian MaGill was standing on the stage three feet away from him, her hair curled up on top her head, spinning around in circles while Dan played the piano below her, his eyes watching her every move; fixated on her like a boy watching his first childhood crush.

            Rocky stood up fast and walked over to where Dan and Lillian were. He cleared his throat again and waited for the piano to stop. “Dan MaGill! I’m going to kill you for what you’ve done to me!”

            Dan looked over at Rocky, his eyes in a wicked stare. Lillian stopped twirling about, her face in a state of shock. “Rocky? What are you…what are you doing in Dakota? I thought I told you—”

            “Shut up Nancy. This is between two men. Go and get yourself dolled up for the next show. Rocky and I will settle this like men.” Dan’s voice was stern and sticky. He never once lost his glare from Rocky, who in turn never moved his eyes either.            

            “But Dan—”

            “I SAID SHUT UP AND GO CHANGE, DAMNIT!” Dan shouted, his eyes leaving Rocky’s for one second to make sure Lillian left the stage.

            Rocky grinned. “Well, Danny-boy, this is a showdown.”

            Both men drew out their guns, pointed, and shot.

            The rippling noise from the gun shot backfired around the entire saloon. Rocky fell down to the ground, having been beaten by the quick drawl of Dan MaGill, blood seeping from his shoulder. He slid himself into a corner and looked up at Dan, who put his gun away and walked back to where Lillian was changing, pride in being the victor.

            “Rocky?” The Doc’s voice woke Rocky up from his blood-loss daze. He looked up at him and shuttered, smelling the gin he had drank about an hour ago. “Rocky, son, I’m afraid you’ve met your match. I don’t…I don’t know if you’ll be able to walk away from this one. I’ve seen some pretty bad gun-shot wounds in my time, but this one…this one…”

            Rocky grinned and covered his bullet wound with his hand. “Doc, it’s only a scratch. I’ll be better…I’ll be better Doc as soon as I am able. Then, then I’ll get that damn Dan MaGill and take back my Lillian, once and for all.”

            Rocky stood up and stumbled his way back up to his room at the hotel, leaving Doc watching after him, shaking his head. “That boy…that boy will never learn,” he said. He walked back over to the bar and poured himself another glass of gin, gulping it down, assessing the damage that was done to his saloon by the fight.

            Rocky reached his hotel room and fell down on his bed, the blood seeping out of his shoulder worse than before. He opened up the drawers from the nightstand next to him and found Gideon’s bible. He smiled and tore the pages out of it to make a make-shift bandage, the blood slowing stopping as it absorbed into the pages. Rocky looked up at the ceiling, praying to God himself for a speedy revival. 

And, for the record, here are the lyrics to The Beatles’ “Rocky Raccoon”:

Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon
And one day his woman ran off with another guy
Hit young Rocky in the eye Rocky didn’t like that
He said I’m gonna get that boy
So one day he walked into town
Booked himself a room in the local saloon.

Rocky Raccoon checked into his room
Only to find Gideon’s bible
Rocky had come equipped with a gun
To shoot off the legs of his rival
His rival it seems had broken his dreams
By stealing the girl of his fancy.
Her name was Magil and she called herself Lil
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
Now she and her man who called himself Dan
Were in the next room at the hoedown
Rocky burst in and grinning a grin
He said Danny boy this is a showdown
But Daniel was hot-he drew first and shot
And Rocky collapsed in the corner.

The doctor came in stinking of gin
And proceeded to lie on the table
He said Rocky you met your match
And Rocky said, Doc it’s only a scratch
And I’ll be better I’ll be better doc as soon as I am able.

Now Rocky Raccoon he fell back in his room
Only to find Gideon’s bible
Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt
To help with good Rocky’s revival.

 ___

Now that that’s all said and done (and I’ve been able to post it…I’ve got that terrible flu and when you’re not doing one thing, you’re doing the other and wishing that you would just die…so, it’s hard to find time to do things like go on the internet and post things…or even write a story. It took me forever to write this one down), I hope I can make it to class tomorrow. 
This flu really knocks you down a peg or two–I’d hate to spread it around. 
And my history of spreading it around a classroom isn’t exactly clean. 

So, best of luck to my stomach tomorrow!

Until next time, 

Sami