(A man in grey and a cabbit wearing a tie with a pineapple on it stand in 
front of the FFML.)

Ronin: *nervously*  Uh...hi.  We're here to present "Happy Trails", a short 
fanfic in which nothing goes the way it's supposed to.  But then, that's 
pretty much what happens in -all- of my stories! Heh.

(silence, crickets chirp.)

Stanley: (the cabbit) Ah, just let them read the bloody thing, sair!

Ronin:  *shrugs*  Ok.  Here you go!


A Ranma 1/2 fanfic by Ronin.  All characters herein are property of
Takahashi Rumiko, except for those nameless faceless characters that exist
merely to provide off-colour commentary and hang around in the background.
Those are mine. :)
C & C would be greatly appreciated.
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Happy Trails

	The prairie wind was dry, leeched of moisture by its passage over
miles of dusty plains and sagebrush.  Humming through the strands of a
rusted barb-wire fence, the wind gusted and swooped, kicking up wild plumes
of sand.  A small tumbleweed that had strayed too far from the rest was
picked up and rolled, bouncing wildly until it came to rest, caught on the
horns of an old cattle skull that was bleaching in the sun.  The wind blew
on, bringing a sharp creak from the weathered boards of a signpost.  In
crude, hand-painted letters, the sign proudly announced "Welcome To Nerima
Gulch."

	With a great rattling and banging, the southbound stage barrelled
past this faded marker and into the town of Nerima Gulch.  The driver hauled
back on the reins, and the horses slid to a stop in front of the post office.
The stagecoach door creaked open, and a small man climbed out.  He was 
wizened with age, and his skin had the wrinkled, deep-tanned look of a man
who has spent most of his life outdoors.  Tilting back his two-and-a-half
gallon hat, the old man squinted at the sun.  Eleven-thirty.  Plenty of time.
	
	Scratching idly at his small mustaches with a gnarled finger, the
little old man grinned toothily.  That little whippersnapper was going to 
get what was coming to him.  Picking up his gunnysack, the old man hitched
up his belt and spat.  "Ha ha ha haaaa!"  Laughing raucously to himself, he
set off along the boardwalk, spurs clinking at the heels of his cracked, 
dusty boots.

	His first stop was the Cat Saloon.  He and that old biddy that ran
the place went way back, but Dame Cologne was far from friendly these days.
There had been a time when he thought that she might actually have a yen
for him, but... Ah well, no use dwelling on the past.  Pushing open the 
swinging doors, the old man strode into the saloon.  Surveying the crowded
tables, he passed through the noisy mass of patrons and headed for the bar.
Before he could hoist his rump onto a stool, however, a slim arm holding a
tray blocked his way.  "Eh?"

	Dame Cologne's granddaughter Miss Shampoo glared at him.  The old
man's practiced eye sized up her graceful form, complemented exceptionally
well by a rather expensive dress of imported silk.  Hmmm, looks like the Cat
Saloon has been doing some good business lately!  The old man assumed a
bluff, friendly expression and patted Miss Shampoo's backside.

	"Miss Shampoo!  Always a pleasure!  How's your grandma?"  Miss 
Shampoo growled, and slapped his hand away.

	"Old pervert!  GreatGrandmother say you no allowed in here again!
You leave now, or Shampoo call sheriff!"  The old man grinned.  He had 
expected this.

	"Sure thing sweetcakes, but first, how about I get rid of those 
nasty petticoats for you-"  Miss Shampoo swelled up with indignation at this
remark, her bosom heaving with rage.  The little old man took the opportunity 
to glomp onto her chest.  Before he could enjoy it, though, a large meaty
hand pried him off.

	The hand belonged to a large man in a cavalry jacket and fedora.
A few of his friends were behind him, snickering at the spectacle of the
little old man sputtering angrily as Shampoo's rescuer dangled him at
arm's length.

	"Is this pitiful excuse for a man bothering you, Miss Shampoo?"
The large man squinted at his victim.  "Hey, you seem kinda familiar....
Ain't I seen you somewhere before?"  The little old man freed himself,
dropping to the floor with a solid thump.  He narrowed his eyes at the large
man.

	"They call me Happy...but you punks have caught me on a bad day!"
The large man and his friends laughed heartily.  Wiping his eyes, the man
in the cavalry jacket eyed Happy up and down, a frown of concentration on
his thick features.

	"Yeah!  You're Happy the Hentai, aren'tcha?  I hear there's a 
two hundred dollar reward out for you, mister."  The cavalryman cracked his
knuckles, beckoning to his friends.  "Get him, boys!"

	A full-fledged bar fight ensued, and the Cat Saloon soon became a
battlefield.  The cavalryman and his friends went at the little old man with
bottles, chairs, and bare knuckles, but nothing seemed to touch him.  As the
other patrons took shelter under the tables or bailed out the door
altogether, knives and pistols began to appear in the hands of Happy's
attackers.  It seemed that all hell was about to break loose, when the
swinging doors slammed open, and a shadowy figure wearing a sheriff's badge
was silhouetted against the glare from the sunlit street.

	The cavalryman and his friends quickly put away their weapons and 
faded back to the bar, leaving the little old man to take the heat.  The
new sheriff of Nerima Gulch had only been in town for a while, but he had a
reputation for being equally good with a pistol or with his fists.

	The sheriff's boots thumped on the floor as he crossed the saloon to
the old man.  A long black pig-tail hung down the back of the sheriff's 
overcoat, swinging gently in time with his steps.  The young man halted in 
front of Happy, who gave an evil grin.  

	"Well, well.  Ranma "The Kid" Saotome!  Glad you could make it."

	"I'm as good as my word, old man.  You've been the biggest pervert in
these parts for as long as I can remember, and I've had enough.  I'm calling
you out."  Saotome's voice was loud, and angry.  

	"Glad to oblige you, pig-tailed boy.  Come on!"

	The two strode out the door and down into the street.  Happy walked
a few paces off to the west, and turned to face the young sheriff.  It was
high noon.  The Kid slowly pushed back the side of his coat, freeing his
pistol and holster from the confining folds.  Saotome's gunbelt was still
shiny and fairly new, but there were many notches on it.  He flexed his hand
slowly, intent on the old man before him.

	The wind ruffled the bushy eyebrows of Happy the Hentai.  He locked
eyes and wills with The Kid, neither willing to look away.  The old man spat,
and loosened his pistol in the holster.  Happy's gunbelt was worn and faded
with long use, and it was almost completely covered in notches.  Youth versus
experience was about to clash yet again.

	Both gunfighters assumed their stances, tense and ready, still as the
dress dummies in the general store window.  Death was in the wind, and
silence fell over the main street of Nerima Gulch, as people watched the
showdown from the boardwalk.  

	"Draw!"  Happy snapped, and both men's arms blurred towards their
pistols.  Two shots rang out, and the haze of gunsmoke drifted lazily up
towards the blazing noonday sun.  Ranma "The Kid" Saotome dropped like a load
of bricks, and did not rise again.  The old man rubbed the crease on the side
of his head, and holstered his still-smoking pistol.  Shouldering his
gunnysack, Happy the Hentai turned and walked out of town.



"Ha, ha!  He is one of the Legion Lost;
   He was never meant to win.
 He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
   He's a man who won't fit in."
 
  -Robert W. Service

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Author's Notes:

I wrote this fic for something to do.  Actually, I was trying to avoid
writing my history paper at the time, but anyway... ^_^  I had fun writing
a story about Happosai, who I think is a character that has been largely
ignored in most Ranma fanfiction.    

Ronin.
msimmons@bcgroup.net
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Garden/2506