It was an eventful day Tuesday, when seven would-be train robbers road up along the afternoon train about a mile outside of town. All but one managed to board the train and attempted to rob it at gunpoint. The able citizens of Platypus Rock and surrounding communities do not stand for shenanigans and swiftly dealt with the nuisance without even slowing the train or putting it behind schedule.
The first desperado found himself facing the working end of a rifle as he leapt aboard only to have his face leap right back off the train followed a few moments later by his body. The guard that had leapt into the service of the train with the rifle then put the stock to work dislodging one of the other ne’er-do-wells from the side of the train. He did not want to risk a shot at that angle he stated later. If the attempted robber had used his arms for honest labor, he might have held on a little longer before falling off and getting pulled under the wheels of the train. The guard declined to provide his name to the gazette, stating “I was just doing my job. No need to make a fuss about it in the paper. Is this story even worth writing about?” We at the gazette say it is, and we thank you sir, for your excellent service.
Old widow, Abigail Whitaker, sent one of the men to judgement day when she unleashed her single shot derringer into his left eye. She stated that the gun was from her dear husband Alfred. He gave it to her on their wedding day back in 1855. That man was heaved back out the door by young Charles Anderson to keep from ruining the rug in that train car. It was too late to keep from making a mess of the ceiling.
Next in line to shuffle off this mortal coil, as Shakespeare would say, was a scruffy man in an odd green shirt. He climbed in with the engineer and ol’ tom used the man’s momentum to guide him face-first into the then-open firebox. Needless to say, that man did not survive the day.
Number five of the group to meet their disappointed maker was a rather weathered looking old chap in a confederate soldier uniform that was so tattered it was barely recognizable. We can only assume he has been wearing it for the last thirty-six years. He was a disgrace to any uniform in any army. It turns out he was also rather inadequate with the pistol he carried as all four shots he managed to fire into the mail wagon missed any living targets. He was making a go at it from between two cars when farmer, Gerald Edwards, planted a pitchfork in the man’s vitals from behind. Gerald had insisted on bringing the pitchfork into the passenger car against the wishes of the purser. It is a new model, and he did not want it broken in the luggage. When getting off the train Mr. Edwards received a hardy handshake and a thank you from the purser who appeared a little embarrassed but insistent. When asking Gerald if he felt it was cowardly to put the pitchfork in the man’s back, he scoffed and asked how many times you should let a rabid dog bite you before you put it down. Point taken Mr. Edwards.
The last of the group that boarded the train without a ticket was finished off by the new schoolteacher. We did not catch her name in time to go to print, but we will all know her soon enough. If she was not already hired, she surely is now. She borrowed a pistol from the man who had fell asleep in his seat across the aisle from her and had still not awoken during the commotion. She returned it to its holster after using it to help number five meet the other riders in the sky.
With only one of the original seven remaining and him still riding along the train, one of the other guards saved the whole town a lot of hassle and paperwork and emptied the man’s saddle with a single well-placed rifle shot.
With that messy business addressed, the train arrived in the station on schedule and began unloading. Having heard the shots from in town, the Platypus Gazette was at the station to interview the heroes before they went on their way.
A wagon was sent to recover all the bodies and horses. The Sherrif and Mayor had a quick talk with a representative from the train and quickly settled the issue out of court. The mayor paid the train for the damage to the ceiling of the car using funds fronted by the town treasury. The robber’s horses would be sold to cover the cost and reimburse the treasury. Any excess will be put towards the project to repair the boardwalk near the train station. The possessions on the robbers will be sold and used to pay the men that dug the graves in the outlaw cemetery. The total amount will be divided evenly between them regardless of how much it is. In keeping with the traditions of Platypus Rock, the seven men will remain unnamed in our gazette and on their graves and they will be forgotten.
Our brave heroes and exhausted grave diggers were treated to free dinner at Jim’s Diner. They all had no trouble eating or sleeping that night. Let this day be a lesson to any other highwaymen that get any ideas about visiting our peaceful town.
