She stood over him for a minute prepared to teach him another lesson. Just then Jimmy Fox, Johnny’s oaf of a brother walked in the saloon.
“What’s this here?” he roared.
I looked at Stank. “Raise ya a stint in the cooler,” he said and winked at me. I nodded back. The bar fight that followed was one for the record books. They, Stank and I, still talk about the great brawl of ‘41 as if the whole quadrant was involved, though it wasn’t much more than Jimmy, us and the lady. When all was said and done, Stank and I and the lady stood there with most of our teeth and all of our pride.
We didn’t win the fight by any stretch, and we all got kicked out of the saloon, but the Fox brothers would think twice before winning a fight with us again.
The lady’s hair had fallen out of its tight bun and blood and dirt crusted on each cheek and knuckle. But she was no worse for wear than Stank or I. In fact she’d even hit Jimmy with a bar stool and a well placed fifth of Martian whiskey. It didn’t do any damage or slow him down, but it was something. to. see!
Stank and I mostly succeeded in punching each other when Jimmy ducked.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I said standing, doffing my cap and extending my hand to help her up. “I’m Clem Alban. If you don’t mind the stench, this is my buddy, Stank Foreman,” I said pointing to him.
“I’m Mavis,” she said. “Mavis Wipple.”
And thems was the humble beginnings of the notoriously overestimated Wipple Gang.