Slashing Saddles, by Jeanster
This is my Bart/Jim slash fanfic based on the 1974 movie "Blazing Saddles". It's also my sequel to Pink Kryptonite.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Blazing Saddles or any of the characters from that movie. I do not own any DC comic book characters or any Marvel comic book characters.
The early morning sunlight streamed in through the hotel bedroom window and awakened Jim (a.k.a. the Waco Kid). His eyelids fluttered open and revealed the lovely shade of his blue eyes that matched the bedsheets. Jim felt the warm body adjacent to his. His arm was wrapped around his bedmate's slender waist.
Jim gazed upon Bart's handsome face.
He looks so peaceful and angelic when he's asleep, thought Jim.
Jim looked around the room. Both his clothes and those of Bart's lay about on the floor. He vaguely remembered the events of last night when he and Bart had a bit too much to drink and somehow ended up in this bed together.
Just then Bart woke up and stared at Jim.
The former Sheriff of Rockridge bolted upright.
"Jim! Where are we? Did we do what I think we did?" asked Bart. There was no mistaking the fear in his voice.
"Whoa, Bart. Calm down. We're in a hotel room. And we shared a beautiful night together making memories that, well, speaking for myself, will remain sweet forever. I hope you feel the same."
Bart struggled to gather his thoughts. Last night. Too much to drink. Jim leading him upstairs to this hotel room. Jim getting undressed. Jim helping Bart get undressed. Both of them tumbling onto the bed. Kissing. Hugging. But that's all I can remember, thought Bart. Everything after that is blank.
"Are you okay?" asked Jim as he gently stroked Bart's face.
"Uh, yes," said Bart. "I guess I'd rather end up in bed with you than Mongo."
"That's a compliment, right?" asked Jim. "Never mind. I'll just take it as a compliment."
"Why did we drink so much last night?" asked Bart.
"We were celebrating our success in saving the town of Rockridge. And we were figuring out what we might do now that you've resigned as their Sheriff. We have our whole lives ahead of us, Bart. What exciting adventures await us?"
"What indeed. Ow. My head," moaned Bart.
"I'll have room service send us some breakfast. That might help," said Jim.
"Thanks."
*******
A young attractive couple occupied the hotel room adjacent to the one in which Bart and Jim were staying. They cuddled together in bed. The red-haired one was still asleep. The dark-haired one was awake. He smiled at his sleeping companion.
"I love you, Johnny," he whispered.
Clark thought of the life he left behind after deciding to stay in the late nineteenth century to be with Johnny. If one were to ask him if he had any regrets for making that decision he would say no.
*******
Jim arrived downstairs. The breakfast buffet was ready for the early-risers.
"Could you please send a breakfast tray for one up to Room 201?" Jim asked one of the waiters. "It's for my roommate. Eggs over easy, toast, hash browns, sausage, coffee."
"Yes, sir," said the waiter. "Will you be dining down here?"
"Oh, yes, thank you," smiled Jim. He picked up a plate and began filling it with assorted breakfast items: scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast.
Ten minutes later as Jim sat at a table enjoying his breakfast he saw two young men enter the dining hall.
Jim could not help but notice how very attractive both of them were. The tall muscular handsome one had dark hair. The smaller one was a red-haired pretty-boy type.
Clark and Johnny saw Jim watching them. They politely smiled, nodded and waved. Jim smiled, nodded and waved back.
"Good morning. How's the breakfast?" Clark asked Jim.
"Excellent," said Jim. "My name is Jim."
"How do you do, Jim. I'm Clark and this is Johnny."
They exchanged pleasantries. Jim invited Clark and Johnny to join him at his table.
Upstairs Bart was trying to shake off his hangover and eat his breakfast.
Suddenly a shot rang out. Bart went over to the window to see what was happening outside.
Downstairs the guests who were dining on breakfast heard the gunshot. It was followed by a loud voice shouting, "Kid, I'm calling you out!"
"Oh, great," Jim the Waco Kid and Johnny the Rawhide Kid thought simultaneously.
Derrick Drake stood outside in the street as folks quickly ran indoors for safety. He had traveled far and was determined to be known as the fastest gunslinger in the West. He figured the surefire way to do that would be to outdraw another fast gunslinger. He had heard that the Kid was staying in this hotel, so now was his chance to earn that reputation he so very much desired.
Inside the dining hall of the hotel Jim and Johnny got up and started heading for the door. They both paused when they saw each other doing the same thing.
"You'd better stay here," said Jim to Johnny. "This could be dangerous."
"I was just about to say the same thing to you," said Johnny.
Clark got up to follow them.
"Gentlemen, you don't have to do this," said Clark. "It takes two to make a fight. Just ignore that fellow outside."
There was no way Clark wanted to risk losing Johnny, especially over some pointless stupid gunfight.
"It's not as simple as that, Clark," said Johnny. "What if by ignoring him he comes inside here? We risk innocent folks here getting shot."
"What has this got to do with you, Johnny?" asked Jim. "I'm the one he's calling out."
"You?" said Johnny and Clark.
"Yes. Why do you look so surprised?"
"Maybe it would help clear up things if you tell us what name you go by other than 'Jim'," said Johnny.
Before Jim could answer the front double doors of the dining hall that led into the street were flung open and in marched a very angry Derrick Drake.
"Are you deaf?" shouted Derrick. "I said, 'Kid, I'm calling you out!', and I really don't like having to repeat myself! Do I have to physically drag your sorry butt out there?"
"I'll have you know my butt is anything but 'sorry'. In fact, I was given a very high compliment on my butt just last night," said Jim.
Derrick stared at Jim.
"Let's calm down, folks," said a voice from the stairs. Everything turned to see Bart the former Sheriff of Rockridge heading down. "There's no need for violence."
"Here's the gentleman who can confirm what I just told you," said Jim. "Go on, Bart. Tell this fellow here what you said about my butt last night."
"Uh, Jim, I'd rather not," said Bart. He saw Clark and Johnny glancing sideways to check out Jim's butt.
*******
Adrian James Wickerson remained seated in the dining hall as he observed Clark, Johnny, Jim, Bart and Derrick. He wondered if he should get up slowly and try to slip away without drawing any attention before a gunfight breaks out right here in the dining hall.
I'm only twenty-four, thought Adrian. I'm too young to die. There's so much more I want to do.
The other hotel guests had already fled the dining hall right after Derrick entered. So had the waiters.
But Adrian stayed in the dining hall because he was torn between leaving and figuring out a way to make contact with Superman. Adrian immediately recognized the Man of Steel even though the Kryptonian was dressed in late nineteenth century-style clothing.
He's the only one here who can possibly help get me back home, thought Adrian. He missed the 21st century. He missed his parents, his friends, Darlington, UK, his favorite television programs, cartoons, comic books, and the Internet.
But would Superman hear him out, believe him and be willing to help him get back home?
Adrian was not sure how he ended up in this very strange place in the late nineteenth century. On the surface it looked like simply the late 1800's. But what took some getting used to was how folks here seemed to accept without question the fact that comic book characters walked amongst them.
It's eerie, thought Adrian. Reminds me of that movie "Space Jam" where Michael Jordan interacted with those Looney Toons characters. Or that other movie "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" where real people interacted with toons.
And now here were Superman and the Rawhide Kid right here interacting with two characters from the Blazing Saddles movie.
Adrian wanted so very much to return safely home. This is WAY too weird for me, he thought. Why, oh why, did I decide to take up inter-dimensional time travel as a hobby? Why couldn't I just collect stamps or build model airplanes?
Clark noticed the nervous young man seated in the dining hall. He had a faint scar on his forehead and wore a green fleece top and dark trousers. Something about that fellow made Clark suspicious. He quickly used his super-vision to scan the young man.
He's NOT from around here, Clark thought to himself after he read the words on the tag of the green fleece top. Since when do washing machine care instructions appear on clothing here in the late 1800's? I'd better find out more about that fellow.
Meanwhile in Darlington, UK:
Mr. and Mrs. Wickerson were enjoying egg nog as they sat comfortably in their living room. The remnants of the Christmas celebration lay strewn about on the floor: unwrapped gifts, bows, ribbons, and torn wrapping paper.
"Too bad Adrian missed out on all of this. What are we going to do about that boy?" asked Mrs Wickerson.
"Can I have his presents?" asked Adrian's younger brother Philip.
"MAY I have his presents," corrected his mother. "And no. You may not have Adrian's presents. We'll put those in his room. He'll be back soon, I hope."
"Not to worry, dear," said Mr. Wickerson. "This time I took the precaution of placing a tracking device on him before he left."
"Thank goodness," said Mrs. Wickerson. "Where is he?"
Mr. Wickerson pulled from his pocket a small device that resembled a PDA. "Let's find out."
Philip rushed over to see. He grinned when he saw what was revealed on the tiny screen.
"Adrian's in the Slash Zone!" laughed Philip.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Wickerson.
"Hmmm," said Mr. Wickerson. "How did our son end up there?"
"I warned him about this. Well, maybe this will teach him to find a safer hobby," said Mrs. Wickerson.
"Maybe he'll meet a cute guy!" laughed Philip.
"Philip, dear, why don't you help us clean up the living room of all this clutter?" asked Mrs. Wickerson.
"Yes, Mother," said Philip. He chuckled to himself as he gathered the bows, ribbons and torn wrapping paper from the floor.
*******
"I wasn't talking to you!" said Derrick to Jim.
"Perhaps we should start over by introducing ourselves. I'm Jim, also known as the Waco Kid."
"And I'm Johnny Bart, also known as the Rawhide Kid," said Johnny.
Derrick stared at Jim and Johnny.
"I'm Derrick Drake, and neither of you is the one I'm looking for."
"Then which Kid do you want?" asked Jim.
"That one!" shouted Derrick pointing a finger toward the young man still seated in the dining hall.
Oh, no, thought Adrian. He can't mean me! I'm no gunslinger! I've never fired a gun in my life!
"Alan the Kid! I'm calling you out!" said Derrick as he walked toward Adrian.
"You have the wrong person, sir," said Adrian as he nervously got up and moved away. "My name isn't Alan. It's Adrian!"
"Don't lie to me. I recognize the scar on your forehead. It's a dead giveaway. And that phoney English accent doesn't fool me either! Where are your guns? Come on out so we can finish this!"
"Uh, Derrick, maybe we should make sure you have the right person. You wouldn't want to shoot some poor innocent boy who happens to look like this Alan the Kid you want, right?" said Bart.
Who the heck is Alan the Kid, wondered Johnny. I've never heard of him.
Derrick repeated his words as he followed Adrian.
"I'm calling you out, Kid! What are you? Chicken? Now get your guns and meet me outside!"
Adrian's heart rate speeded up and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Then he blacked out and collapsed on to the floor.
"Now look what you've done, Derrick. You scared the poor boy. Maybe he's really not who you think he is," said Bart.
"A real gunslinger worth his salt wouldn't faint like that," said Jim. "Clearly a case of mistaken identity."
Derrick frowned and stared at Adrian.
"Hmpf!" he said.
The dark-haired English youth with the scar on his forehead slowly opened his eyes and stared at the men gathered around him.
He smirked and got up.
"Did I hear you say you was a-calling me out?" he said. There was no trace of an English accent anymore.
Derrick stared at him. "Ya heard right."
"Good. You have your affairs in order? Wrote a will? Measured yourself for a coffin?"
Derrick's mouth dropped open.
"Don't matter, anyway. I'll go get my guns from my room upstairs. Don't you run off, now."
Everyone stared as he headed upstairs.
Perhaps he has a split personality, thought Clark.
*******
Mrs. Wickerson said to her husband, "Dearest, don't you think it's time we brought our boy back home?"
"Perhaps. But you remember what he said last time we did that."
"Yes, yes. But's getting late. And besides, remember his condition? What if he has another one of those spells where he, well, you know."
"I guess you're right. Well, easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission. But considering that we are his parents, we really don't need his permission, do we? Very well. Let's bring our boy back home."
Mr. Wickerson pressed a series of keys on the device.
*******
The dark-haired youth with the scar on his forehead reached the top of the stairs. He took a step toward his room and then vanished.
*******
"Adrian!" said Mrs. Wickerson smiling. "Welcome home!"
Her son appeared dazed and confused.
"Ma'am? Who are you? And where am I?" There was no trace of an English accent in his voice.
Uh-oh, thought Philip. He's having another one of those spells.
"Alan? Is that you, Alan?" asked Philip.
"I'm Alan. But who are you? How do you know my name?"
"Why, everyone knows who you are. You're famous. Alan the Kid," said Philip. "Can I have your autograph?"
Mrs. Wickerson picked up the telephone to call Adrian's psychiatrist.
"How about some dinner? Are you hungry, Alan?" asked Mr. Wickerson.
*******
"He sure is taking forever getting his guns," said Derrick. "It's been ten minutes. I'm going to see what's taking him so long."
Derrick ran upstairs. A moment later he ran back down.
"He's gone! Nowhere to be found anywhere upstairs!"
"Maybe he climbed out the window," said Jim.
"The yellow coward!" said Derrick.
Later:
Jim, Bart, Derrick, Clark and Johnny were seated around an oval table in the hotel dining hall.
"So that's why you felt you needed to outdraw the Alan the Kid," said Jim. "But is taking the life of another or possibly losing your own really worth trying to impress your father?"
Derrick sipped from his coffee cup before answering.
"You have no idea how my father made me feel after he learned about my being so, well, different," said Derrick.
"It's okay, Derrick," said Johnny as he gently patted Derrick's arm. "You're among friends here who aren't all that much different from you, I dare say."
"Tell you what," said Bart. "How would you like to come along with Jim and me? Clark and Johnny, you both are welcome to come, too. I have a friend I'm planning to look up who needs my help. He sent me a letter a month ago. Now's a good a time as any to pay him a visit. This will help take your mind off your troubles."
Derrick shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. Why not? Got nothing to lose. Nothing here to hold me back."
"What do you think, Clark?" asked Johnny.
"I'm game if you are," said Clark.
"Looks like we'll be joining you," said Johnny.
A month later:
"You can open your eyes now, Dixie," said Brisco.
Dixie slowly opened her eyes and looked around their newly decorated home.
"Oh, Brisco! It's beautiful! I can't believe the difference!" She looked up and down Brisco. "And you look good enough to eat! Those fellas did a great job with the makeover they gave you. Not that you looked bad before."
"Fellas, I can't thank you enough," said Brisco to the five men who smiled back.
Jim, Bart, Clark, Johnny and Derrick waved as they headed for the door.
"You're welcome. It was fun. And it felt great being able to help," said Bart.
Lord Bowler tapped Brisco on the shoulder.
"Yes, Bowler?" asked Brisco.
"Brisco, is this what you call one of those 'new things'?"
"Yes, Bowler, I believe it is. I wouldn't be surprised if sometime in the distant future a group of fashion-conscious gents rescue men in dire need of a makeover in both their surroundings and in their personal grooming."
They waved good-bye to the Fab Five of the late nineteenth century.
THE END
Disclaimer: I do not own The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. and/or Blazing Saddles and/or any DC comics characters and/or any Marvel comics characters.