meanwhile upstairs....

In one of the rooms up the stairs the blogs hide from Black Bart. Glancing out of the door (which like all saloons opens onto the second floor balcony which over looks the main bar where you can see everything if your a cowardly blog).

Brain not work, peeks through the gap of the door he holds ajar. Also in the room are Boxing Day, blog blog blog and And again I continue...
"So what do you see Brain?" asks 3blogs
"Oh who cares Barts gonna kill him and then we'll get on with waiting till we get deleted" snaps Boxing day.
"No they're just talking, well Barts talking to stranger" answers Brain not work
"Talking! You've got to be kidding" Boxing Day goes and shoves Brain not work out of the way and takes look by himself.
"Hey no fair Box" replies Brain "Where does he get off shoving me like that I bags'd the door. Box got the bed and..." Brain pauses "Why did you bags the window 3blogs?"
"'cause he reckons that whoever wins the fight down there they're both gonna come up here and start the massacre." answers Boxing day.
"Stranger wouldn't delete us would he? He wouldn't he can't he made us." panics Brain
"Now look what you've done Box. Calm down Brain stanger wouldn't delete any of us." answers And again.
"And again is right Box stranger wont delete us. Your at the door now so tell us what you see." orders 3Blogs

hiatus shmatus - the stranger on the blue stead

Time passes, tumble weeds roll by this blog with a dry absent breeze blowing them through the desolate landscape. In the distance a lone figure rides a blue and rusty steed. He has been long from this land and knows he has to return to make it verdant and green once more. Continuing onwards into the old west town he notices the signs of what was once a thriving blog. Sure it wans't funny but it was factual and informative. He stops outside the saloon, ties his rusty blue steed and locks the saddle. He strides on through the sqweeky saloon doors into the dingy shadows within.

His eyes adjust slowly to the darkness, the pianola is playing a familiar tune as he sidles up to the bar. The barman is mumbling the chorus, as he notices the new arival in his bar.
"I'm a wierdo..." He stops and contines. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Thought it was time to come back."
"Thought it was time did you. What makes you think we want you back?"
"I built this blog, sure it was never that funny but it was mine."
"You left us before Christmas and never came back."
"I'm back now."
"We can see that."
"We?"
The stranger looks around the dingy saloon. At one of the tables is a group of blog entries. The first ones he ever made, they look at him distrustfully. The barman continues.
"Did you ever think about how they felt while you were away, did you?"
The stranger sheepishly looks from the blog entries and back to the bartender.
"Your right I didn't. I got no excuses but I'm back now and we got blogging to do."
"We stranger. I don't think you've got the right to say we. Your on your own..."

The bartender stops as a comotion begins outside the bar. The blogs panic and rush upstairs. The sqweeky saloon doors open and a shilouette of a tall man in black stands in the doorway. He strides in his spurs jangling with ever step. He's tall very tall, yet slim and lithe. His eyes like black fire bore into the strangers face.

"Who are you?" asks the stranger.
The man in black leans his arms on the bar."Louie the usual."
"Sure thing." answers the bartender. He pours a shot glass of rot gut and passes the drink to Bart.
"So your the stranger them blog entries been waiting for?"
"Yep."
"Bet you're wonderin' who I am then?
"Yep."
The man in black stands back for theatrical effect and puts his hands on his hips.
"I'm Black Bart and I run things here now. And I'm gonna run you out of town."

End of chapter one.