Ditching the Amnesty

(The boys just never seem to learn...)

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"Kate, the Kid and me have been talking and we're really getting tired of this whole amnesty premise. We think you should do something about it," Hannibal Heyes said, offering no apology for dropping by unannounced yet again.

Kate looked up from the depths of the empty backyard Koi pond she was cleaning to get it ready for the fish that had wintered in the large tank in her basement. When she saw the two larger than life fictitious cowboys standing at the pond's edge, she sighed and tossed the plastic scrub brush into the bucket of cold water.

"You two do understand that amnesty is the reason for your existence, don't you? Without the golden ring of amnesty, there would be no Smith and Jones. You would just be two ordinary cowboys, too lazy to take on the responsibility of a real job, a family, understanding the purpose of life..."

"Yeah, that's our point, Kate. We want that lazy life," Kid explained.

Kate studied them both very carefully. "You're lying," she told them and watch two sets of eyes slowly move in the other's direction. "You're up to something. What is it? Has one of the other Rachel's put you in some adventure that promises you wealth and prosperity, a good life to live out the rest of your sorrowful lives?"

"Kate, listen to yourself. You're talking about the two other Rachels. They would never do that!" Heyes reminded her.

Kate stood and climbed out of the empty pond and dried her hands on her bluejeans. "Alright, then what's this all about?"

"Well, the governor said we was to stay outta trouble for one year. That one year turned into almost three and when it still didn't come, and the alter egos moved on to other jobs, we figured that was the end of that whole amnesty pipe dream," Heyes told her.

"But then all hell broke loose," Kid exclaimed.

"What do you mean, all hell broke loose?' Kate asked.

"Well, they stopped making all them... what do you call em, Heyes?"

"Episodes."

"Yeah, episodes, so Heyes and me started making plans for our future, and it didn't include no amnesty."

"What did it include?" Kate asked.

Kid shook his head. "It don't matter cause it weren't more than a week later that somebody, somewhere, started putting ink to paper and we was right back where we left off," Kid replied.

"Not to mention them Dangerous Villains Diegeses," Heyes said.

"The what?" Kate asked.

"You know, DVDs," Heyes replied. "That stands for Dangerous Villains Diegeses, don't it?"

Kate curtailed a grin. "You've taken to reading a Thesaurus, Heyes?"

Heyes ignored her question. "And now it's been over fifty years and Kid and me are still at it. Do you have any idea how many governors Wyoming has had in fifty years?" Heyes asked.

Kate shook her head, having never given that any thought.

"Hell, we couldda served our sentences twice in that much time," Kid said.

"Two and a half times," Kate corrected and Kid sneered at her.

"Kate," Heyes said, trying to draw the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Them two alter egos put in two and a half years trying to earn the amnesty and when everybody finally figured out it just wasn't ever going to happen, they all just called it quits. Them alter egos moved on, but thanks to all you writers and modern technology, Kid and me are still right where we started."

"We deserve better, Kate," Kid replied. "We deserve more of the luxuries in life than an occasional hot bath and a winning poker hand."

Kate sighed heavily thinking of all the times she had tried to explain the concept of fiction to them. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe fictional characters weren't designed for independent analytical thought. Kate closed her eyes and shook her head. What had started out as a fun little hobby of writing stories, had turned into a very complex science of fictional psyche management.

"Alright, let's think this through together. Maybe we can come up with something that will appease everyone. Let's start with what the two of you would do if you weren't trying to earn that amnesty. Would you work?"

They looked at each other and nodded. "As long as it's not too hard on the back," they replied in unison.

"I don't mean a short job just long enough to earn enough to move on to another place. I mean a real job, working every day, five or six days a week, to pay the bills."

"What bills?" Kid asked.

"The bills honest folks have to pay, long term housing in the form of rent or a loan payment, food, transportation, medical expenses, home repair bills, water, electric..."

"Water and electric? What the hell is that? You just dig a well to get water."

"Well, if you move on, technology advances. You don't stay in the 1880s. In fact, after fifty years, you'd be in the 1930s, and the cost of living has sky rocketed by then. In 1929, you'll go through a massive depression, and will likely loose everything you've managed to acquire by then. If you own property, you'll loose it to the bank. Any money you have saved in a bank will be worthless. Knowing the two of you, you'll likely become hobos, riding boxcars and looting farms for eggs."

"In 1929 I'll be seventy-four," Kid said. "I ain't hoppin' no boxcar at that age. It's hard enough at thirty."

"Don't worry, Kid. Kate's just trying to scare us. You and me have done just fine without owning no property or working six days a week. We'll manage," Heyes assured his partner.

"And then there's Prohibition," Kate added.

"What's that?" Kid asked.

"The government banned the sale of alcohol."

"No beer? No whiskey?" Kid asked.

"So, if we stay where we are, we still ain't got an amnesty, but if we move forward, we loose all our money, all our property, and we ain't got even beer or whiskey to take solace in?"

"That's right."

"Heyes, we ain't going nowhere,' Kid said adamantly.

"Kate, you ain't playing fair. You've got the advantage of history and we have know way of knowing if you're telling us the truth or lying your pretty little head off," Heyes said with frustration dripping from his words.

"Heyes, think about it. Have I ever lied to you?"

"You've stretched the truth more than once," Heyes replied.

"Okay, you want the cold, hard facts?" Kate asked. "The truth is, I have absolutely no control over what happens to the two of you. There are hundreds of writers out there and if you want to give up the quest for amnesty and move forward, you're going to have to convince every single one of them to agree. Why the two Rachels alone are going to give you so much argument that your silver tongue is going to tarnish from the sheer exhaustion of arguing with them."

Blue eyes and brown eyes raised and locked in a silent discussion.

"Maybe one of them hundred writers could write us an amnesty story?" Heyes asked nervously.

"Yeah, then we'd only have ninety-nine writers to deal with," Kid grumbled.

"We'll just take them one at a time, Kid. There's always somebody writing a story and maybe by the time we've convinced them all, that great depression thing will have come and gone."

"Which means we'll be in our seventies, Heyes. It's a no win situation."

Heyes sighed heavily. "I guess you're right, Kid. And I think I'd rather be thirty than seventy any day."

"So, problem solved?" Kate asked. "At least for the time being?"

"I guess so," Heyes replied. "Come on, Kid. Let's go get a whiskey."

"And a hot bath," Kid added.