Title: Saloon
Fandom: Alias Smith And Jones
Genre: Drabble. Fluff. Humor. (This might even be considered crack!fic.)
Rating: K (General audience)
Word Count: 550
Disclaimer: Alias Smith And Jones and its characters are property of its copyright owners. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is taken from this story.
Summary: POV from one of the primary characters in Exit From Wickenburg.

I can truthfully say, now, that I am one happy saloon. Happier than I've been in a really long time. Four months, in fact. Ever since that (incident) that took Mr. Cunningham away from us. (Hey, it wasn't my fault, okay? Just because it happened inside my walls... you know what? I don't want to talk about it.) Deep breath. Deep breath. Okay. As I was saying, things are going good again, finally, for Mrs. Cunningham. And for me, now that Mary's hired me a couple of managers, and good ones.

I know she's been looking, or looking to sell me, but hasn't had any luck. Which is unfortunate, as things have become really bad. Mike (my bartender), well, first let me say that I love the guy like a son -- he's been with me a long time. But honestly, he's been getting out of hand lately, putting more and more of the profits into his own pocket, instead of letting Mary have them. If he were really my son, I'd take him out to the woodshed. And then there's my blackjack dealer, bringing in an agent -- an agent -- into my establishment! I wish I could grab him by the scruff of the neck and toss him out my doors! And that's not to mention the low character of the poker players in recent days.

There's been more cheating going on under my roof in one night than there used to be in a month under Mr. Cunningham's watchful eye. Not that I blame Mary. It isn't her fault that she's got no idea how to manage a casino like me. She was thrust into this position suddenly, unprepared, as was I. Ah... I really miss Mr. Cunningham. Now there was a man who knew what he was doing. Knew what he wanted and how to get it. I knew instinctively that I could trust him as soon as he set foot on my floors.

These two new ones, on the other hand, well, I wasn't too sure about them at first. They came swaggering in, heading right for the poker tables. Nothing unusual. I thought they'd be like all the rest. But then they gained a level of respect from me with how they handled those cardsharks. I could see they were my kind of poker player -- honest ones who wouldn't put up with cheating. Even so, I wasn't entirely comfortable when Mary hired them to manage me. I heard them say they've never managed a saloon before. I remember thinking at the time, this can't be good.

But they've proven me wrong. I humbly extend my apologies to Misters Smith and Jones for doubting them. They've proven to be extremely competent. Mr. Smith kicked out the blackjack agent, thus earning my undying gratitude. And Mr. Jones forced out that poker cheater the other night. In just a few short days, the cheating inside my walls has plummeted, all thanks to my new managers. Mary's happy, my wheel of chance is twirling, my roulette wheel is happily spinning along, my poker tables are humming.

I sigh with contentment, smiling to myself as I watch Joshua and Thaddeus at work. My managers. My boys. I've really grown fond of them in a short time. I hope they decide to stay on. I'd really enjoy having them.