"This ain't in no way, shape or form legal and you dang well know it g'dammit!" yelled the irritated prisoner as he squirmed fruitlessly against the well built stocks before he turned his head as far as he could to watch Leviticus LaRouchette admire his work.
Bent over at the waist, the prisoner stomped his feet in utter frustration while he twisted and pulled with his hands that were locked securely to either side of his head.
The master vampire smiled with satisfaction as he moved to adjust something just out of the prisoner's sight that only served to make him squirm even more as he tried to resist yet again.
It wasn't quite dawn and LaRouchette had finally had enough of this ingrate and his shenanigans.
"I would have preferred to call it more pertinent than practical as a solution to our mutual problem ..." he informed the man as he walked around his creations, "... but then you had ample chance to rest quietly and comfortably in that cell but chose instead to annoy me of all people ... almost beyond charity of even my rather extended levels of patience and understanding."
The idea had been an epiphany of sorts along the way and the tools to build them were as easy to acquire as the materials themselves.
While it may have been decades or even centuries since he'd last seen one, working from memory he'd quickly fashioned and set up several sets just outside the jail which now faced those who might have passed by in the street.
Once the sun rose to highlight his work, he suspected others would be less likely to find need of them while petty crime would undoubtedly drop to an all time low.
When the Sheriff returned, he might even agree that having them around was as good idea as those who'd originally used them long ago for much the same reason and many of the same crimes.
"What the hell are in those baskets?" squealed the prisoner as he continued to struggle to get his hands free from either side of his head.
"These?" LaRouchette replied with mirth as he bent to tilt one of the baskets up to reveal fruit and vegetables loosely piled inside.
"In time, they will serve as your breakfast."
"How the hell am I supposed to eat ... that, when I'm stuck in this g'dammed contraption?" the prisoner roared as he shook the stocks.
"Well, to be completely honest, you're not." LaRouchette replied evenly as he moved to set yet another basket near the head of the prisoner. "The people of this town will feed you as they see fit ... or not. I no longer have much care for your needs until this time tomorrow."
LaRouchette ignored whatever the prisoner said next as he turned to casually walk up the street to check in on his partner and those who may yet remain at the brothel.
Whether as sheriff, bouncer or engineer, within a span of twenty-four hours, he'd apparently proven himself as a jack of all trades.
"Times may have changed but punishments of old still work best when applied properly." he mused.
The mention of breakfast had made him hungry, while fruit, rotten or otherwise, would most definitely not be on his menu today or any other day for that matter.
But nectar of another variety and sort, now that would most certainly help make do, indeed.
YOU ARE READING
Welcome to the Weird Wild West. The streets here are dusty and lead often runs hot as the women are fast and the cards prove even faster. All around you there are people who are not as they appear and others who watch them. Supernatural and mortal...