A Fringe in time

It was a buckskin jacket of an indeterminate faded brown shade, that looked as if a horse or two (or perhaps a recalcitrant mule) had attempted to chew through the arms to get at previous wearers, and suspicious looking small rifts in the surface of the garment were possible remains of blasts of buckshot. And as if this weren't enough to damn the thing in his eyes, it was heavily armed with golden fringe, which offended his sense of decorum mightily.

"Fringe? Seriously?" The Third Doctor regarded his companion, his jaw taking on that familiar stubborn set that she knew so well, his bullheaded I shall not do this thing look which tended to infuriate her at times.

"You would prefer sequins?" Jo asked tartly, holding out the offending garment yet again. "Doctor, please, we aren't here to cater to your sartorial needs, we have work to do."

"Perhaps, but is there a need to dress me up like a reject from Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show to do it?" he muttered, grudgingly taking the jacket into his pincered grip, daintily. It admittedly was not up to his usual standards - today he was wearing a dark green smoking jacket, with wide forest green lapels, and a light blue ruffled shirt. Tomorrow perhaps a kilt would suit his fancy. But never fringe. Never.

"If you'll observe, you're not the only one," Jo countered, her hands gesturing toward herself in frustration. She wore a mid-thigh length skirt and matching jacket that was laden with the stuff. Looked just as bad as his. "Let's get going, or they'll get there before we do, Doctor."

Still grumbling, he donned the offensive garment, and hitched his britches - the less said about that the better. "I suppose we better mosey on now," he said dryly, affecting the mannerisms of their guide in this strange world, who was waiting for them just outside the saloon doors.

"There you be," the middle-aged man (let's label him the sidekick) greeted them with a nod as they pushed their way through the swinging doors, "I was just about to look fer ya. Ready, Doc?"

"Ready," the Doctor nodded, and Jo nodded her own affirmation as they began to walk along the dusty dirt-filled road.

"What was the name of this place again?" Jo wondered aloud.

"The O.K. Corral, ma'am," the other man replied, limping slightly as he walked beside them, along the otherwise deserted street.

And then there was the sound of gunfire in the distance . . .