FULL TIME JOB

                            by

                       Joe Whatever



Dr. Michaela Quinn was locked in the saloon, and the Sheriff was 
miserable.  Ever since she had come to town two weeks ago, the 
goody-goody woman doctor had been organizing the town against him.

She'd convinced the women of the town to withhold sex from their 
men-folk until they agreed to bathe once a week.

She'd campaigned for all of the town's officials, including the 
Sheriff, to attend church services.

And now the townswomen were all saying that Dr. Quinn would make 
an excellent mayor.  Of course, first the men would have to let 
the women vote.  But, other than that, it was a nightmare!

With this latest caper, however, she had gone entirely too far.  
Every May 1st the Sheriff would arrest all of the whores in the 
saloon, strip them naked, and then hoist them up in the middle 
of the main street, with just their toes brushing the ground.

Then he would go to work with his trusty razor strap.

After the strapping, the eager locals would tar and feather the 
luckless strumpets and run them out of town on a rail.  It didn't 
seem to matter to anyone that the women would always be back in a 
few days, since they were under contract to the saloon.  The annual 
whore-hoisting had become something of a holiday.  It satisfied the 
moral outrage of the spiteful old biddies at the church, and it 
satisfied the Sheriff and the horny townsmen in other ways.

May Day was better than Christmas!

But that busybody Dr. Quinn had locked herself in the saloon with 
the whores and had refused to come out.

Didn't she understand that whore-hoisting was a sacred tradition?

It was Judge Hartbourne who saw not a problem but an opportunity.

"That's a mighty long cross beam, Sheriff," the judge said, 
thoughtfully, eyeing the post that extended from the roof 
of the Sheriff's office to the saloon across the street.  
"Plenty roomy."

"So?" the Sheriff moaned.

"The law is clear.  Any woman in that saloon on May 1st is a whore 
in the eyes of the law," the judge said, sternly.  "And that means 
she gets hoisted."

He smiled.  "Even if she did go to Harvard.

"I bet if you lay on the strap hard enough, she might even sign a 
whoring contract," he mused.  "I don't know if we need a full time 
doctor...but we could always use another whore."

The smiling Sheriff checked the adequacy of the supply of tar 
and feathers before trotting merrily down the street toward 
the feminine fortress.

Dr. Quinn was still locked in the saloon, and all was right with 
the world.



Edited by C. Lakewood