It was a somber night at the Big Cup Saloon. The drinkers were drinking in silence. The whores were barely talking dirty. The gamblers were making intelligent bets based on probability and not sheer guts. It was a depressing October night.
The empty stage was a terrible reminder of what had happened last night. The Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had come all the way from Chicago to perform their famous naughty act. They had come out onto the stage right as a nasty fight was breaking out over by the poker tables. Guns were drawn and eighty shots were fired in a mad battle for survival.
Only one of the gunfighters had been killed, but all twenty of the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had been shot dead. Being loose women, the local preacher wouldn’t let them be buried in the town graveyard. There was an old Injun burial ground that was used instead. Being from out of town, no one was willing to buy them coffins, so they were dumped into a mass grave with their flirty costumes still on.
Because of the violence of last night, the saloon owner, Big Hank, wouldn’t let anyone bring their guns in. All of the firearms were locked in a safe by the door. People grumbled but it was the only saloon in town. They turned in their side irons and tried to get a drink and some pussy.
About the only thing that was good about that quiet night was a newcomer in town. Her name was Texanah and she had tits bigger than the whiskey barrels. She had long blonde hair that spilled out of her cowboy hat and a tight ass that she encased in even tighter jeans. The woman was a one tramp whorehouse and she had been drinking and fucking all day in the spare room upstairs. I heard she wasn’t even paying Big Hank for the room. She just let him watch while she fucked anyone with ten dollars in their pockets.
But not even Texanah could revive this dead night. The swearing was half hearted and not even that asshole, Florida Bloyd could get a fight started. I was playing the piano and no one was making requests. The damn place felt cursed.
Pretty soon, we found out we were cursed. It started with a scream at the door. Big Hank’s muscle man, Dirty Paul, was screaming like a girl who just got poked for the first time. It was an awful inhuman scream. We all looked at him and saw what the fuss was about. He had a woman ripping his guts out, and here is the sick part, she was jamming those guts into her mouth.
Oh lordy, she wasn’t alone. There about twenty women pushing their way through the door. They shambled into the saloon still wearing the dirt covered dance clothes we buried them in. It was the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets, and they were back from the dead! They were also pissed as Hell and hungry for flesh!
Things got crazy. No one had any guns and all of the weapons were locked in a safe that was covered in Dirty Paul’s blood. The Strumpets stumbled forward, their pale tits jiggling within their tight corsets. Their torn skirts revealed flashes of dirty thighs and shins. Any one stupid enough to get within arm’s reach of them was torn apart by supernatural strength. The undead dancers would pause to eat the body but mostly they seemed more interested in the live meat.
“Give me your fucking skirt!” Texanah yelled. A whore next to her jumped and started to undo her dress. Texanah had no time for that shit. She grabbed a hold of that skirt and ripped it straight off her body.
The Strumpets shambled closer and ate poor Old Man Ollie. Texanah ignored them and chucked off her jeans. The people in the saloon were conflicted. Sure, there were nasty undead dancers coming closer, but Texanah just bared her ass to everybody. They didn’t know who to keep an eye on.
Texanah wrapped the skirt around her and climbed onto the empty stage. “Play some god damn dancing music!” she yelled.
I started playing. As soon as the music played, Texanah started dancing. Boy, could that girl kick high! Her legs snapped up into the air and her skirt billowed like a flower opening in spring. Even though she was wearing cowboy boots, that girl was dancing pretty fast. Every kick of her leg would flash her cooch to the entire saloon.
The men were spellbound but the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets were watching too. They started growling; a terrible nasty sound of the damned. I had worked with enough women to know that sound. They were jealous.
The Strumpets jerked. All of them twitched in the same identical manner. Their backs arched and their hips moved. The walking corpses spasmed in harmony with each other. They formed a line in the saloon and they danced.
Holy shit. The cadavers can-caned with a fury you wouldn’t expect out of dead women. They grabbed their skirts and kicked even higher than Texanah! They flashed their unholy thighs and garters at us with each hellish kick.
Texanah seemed to take that as a challenge. She kept dancing and stripped off her shirt. Her big bountiful tits bounced with each kick. Texanah jumped in the air and spread her legs out in mid air like she was mounting a horse. She swung her hips around and humped the air in the most decadent manner I have ever seen. I don’t know what kind of dancing that was, but it sure as Hell was dirty.
The Strumpets growled again. They danced harder. Desperate to outdo Texanah, they ripped their clothes to reveal bullet holes and big cold breasts. Some of the men screamed in horror as the Strumpets showed a little too much dead skin and blood.
The Strumpets didn’t care. They did more elaborate steps around each other. Around and round they danced, ducking under each other’s arms and legs in a beautifully choreographed display of teamwork and skill. Even dead, they were the best Can-Can dancers in the country.
Texanah was grabbing her tits and shaking her ass at the crowd. The crowd of terrified and oddly horny men cheered louder for Texanah. The trampy blonde didn’t have the skill of the Strumpets but she made up for it with a trainload of passion. Texanah danced because it was so much like fucking.
The Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had had enough. Still dancing, they slowly filed onto the stage. Their legs still kicking, the lined back up on the stage to grab the audience’s attention.
To my surprise, Texanah let them have the stage. She moved away as they crowded her off and she jumped down when there was no more room. The crowd sighed but they were smart enough not to boo.
The Strumpets really went into their act then. They danced their little unbeating hearts out. One of them jumped in the air and something disgusting flew off her body. Another one did a cartwheel and left her hand on stage. They kept on dancing though. They weren’t going to let a thing like decomposition slow them down.
BAM! BAM! BAM! Three of the Strumpets suddenly lost their heads in a red mist.
Texanah had cracked open the safe and gotten the guns out! Butt-naked except for her hats and boots, Texanah had a pistol in each hand. She fired on the dancers who were all conveniently lined up in a row. She aimed for the head, taking each one out with a single shot to the face. When she exhausted her guns, she would drop them and grab more off the safe.
When the gunsmoke cleared, all of the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets were dead again. The lack of heads kept them down this time. The crowd let out a sigh of relief that the nightmare was over.
Texanah was pissed. “God damn, couldn’t one of you assholes have done this while I was dancing?”
No one had an answer for that. To make up for it, we dragged that smart ass pastor out of his church and made him give a good Christian burial to each and every one of those damned souls. We built them coffins with locks on them and we buried them in the church graveyard.
As for Texanah, she left after the last funeral. “It is time for me to move on,” she said. “This place is too dead for me.”