The stranger in black walked into the bar.
"Your money's no good here." said the bartender.
"What money?" the stranger replied.
"But I do have this pirate guitar I'd like to swap for the dusty old thing you got hanging on the wall." says the stranger
(The guitar is a 1959 Les Paul authentically relic'd by Peter Green. Does the barman know this?)
"Well, I don't know about that, you'll have to ask the owner, he's with the Marshall over there in the corner." said the bartender.
Stranger looks over in the corner and is surprised to see....?
A Cherokee warrior, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table, idly talking to the Marshall as he sharpens his small war AxeFX.
The stranger sidled over towards the the Cherokee and the Marshall.
The Marshall glanced up, then quickly stacked up, plexi-ng his muscles.
The Warrior played it cool, idly noodling with his fingers.
"Howdy, I'm Jim" roared the Marshall, in a dirty tone. "y'll be a stranger to these channels?
The stranger back pedaled slightly from the unexpected noise. "Suhr", he muttered. "just a passing pirate, down loading some grainy
footage on the tracks from my ship"
The Marshall shifted slightly, toning it down. "Barman! Drink for the stranger! Make it a Stra't whiskey"
The saloon door banged open and a guard staggered in, holding a pick. "Don't mind him, he's always pre-loaded" muttered the Cherokee.
The Marshall took two quick steps over to the pick guard, eyes glowing like tubes. The pirate could see his green back of his vest ripple with toned
muscles. PAF!! His fist shot out to hit the guard.
But the guard was quick! He quickly switched positions and lifted the pick.
Before either could move, the batwing doors crashed open again, and in walked..... Sorry, slow day at work...