Condiment Quick Draw in Space

"Darn it, there's no sign of that thief!" Randy complained, as we stood in the middle of the town square.

"Maybe this is Karma. I mean you were trying to clone that patty to avoid paying for it." I hoped I could get him to drop all this and just buy a reasonably priced patty... Sadly, it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.

"Yo, horse man! Did a large headed ginger haired bandit come this way?" Randy questioned a random alien bystander, who had the head of a horse, but the body of a human with the exception of hooves for hands. Like everything else on this planet, it too was dressed like a cowboy.

"Neigh, I can't say I have, part-." The horse man suddenly shot me a look of disgust. "There ain't room for trash in this town, neigh!"

"Are you kidding me, little bro!? Quit taking your hat off." Randy sighed as he manifested another pink glittery cowboy hat from thin air and shoved it on my head.

I couldn't help, but keep removing it. The hat was embarrassing and all, but even worse were the sparkles that kept flaking off and falling into my eyes. It felt like my retinas were being cut by sparkles.

My brother continued interrogating the locals to no avail. I wasn't particularly sure how anyone could miss a guy in a bright orange jumpsuit with a giant head, but the people in this town didn't seem to be the sharpest.

Frustrated, Randy kicked up some dirt. "That dude's got to be around here somewhere." A particular building caught his attention. "Let’s try there, little bro."

I followed him through a set of wooden saloon doors. Inside was a stereotypical western saloon packed with cowboy-clad patrons. Randy took a seat at the bar, slapped a few stollars down on the counter, and signaled to the robo-bartender. "Surprise me."

The robot slid what looked to be a glass of milk towards him. Randy just stared at it. "I'd prefer something with alcohol in it."

"We only serve milk here, partner. Beep bop." It spoke with a western twang.

"That's a shame." Randy sighed as he downed the entire glass in a single gulp. "By the way, you haven’t seen any suspicious individuals within the past half hour, have you?"

"N-no. Beep bop." The robot suddenly became nervous.

My brother flashed him a skeptical glare. "You sure? That didn't sound too confident."

Out of the robot's sight, he signaled for me to sneak around to the other side of the counter.

"I can confirm, partner, n-nothing out of the ordinary. Beep bop." Its screen flashed a nervous sweat emoji.

As Randy pressed the robot, I got down on the floor and crawled my way over to an opening on the side of the bar. I peeked my head around the corner and...

"Randy, he's hiding behind the counter!"

The burglar was on the ground with a blaster pointed at the robot's back.

"I knew it!" Randy shouted as he dove over the bar.

"Rabble rabble!" The thief shrieked as Randy tackled him.

"Hand over the burger patty, you ducker." My brother managed to knock the blaster out of his hands and began throwing punches at the culprit.

"Rabble." The thief responded as he traded blows with Randy.

My stomach sank, as something finally occurred to me. This was no ordinary thief... This was in fact the Hamrobblar, another one of MarkDonald's beloved mascots! Could this be a coincidence? Encountering two fast food mascots like this almost made it seem like we were being targeted.

My brother and the hamrobblar continued wailing on each other. Taking glass bottles from the bar, they smashed them over each other's heads, glass fragments and milk spraying everywhere.

Stumbling out into the main seating area, both covered in dairy, Randy tackled him onto a table where a group of dog-like aliens were playing a game of Texas hold 'em. The table splintered as the Hamrobblar crashed through it. At the same moment, the premium burger patty flew out from under his hat and tumbled in mid-air.

A cloud of dust kicked up as both of them scrambled to dive for the patty at the same time. A moment passed as the dust settled... Both of them had a hand grasping the patty in an absolute stalemate.

"Rabble Rabble." The Hamrobblar murmured.

Randy smirked. "I know neither of us want to see a patty this nice ruined. How's about we settle this like men."

"Rabble?" The hamrobblar looked intrigued by my brother's proposal.

"You, me, we meet out at the pasture at high noon for a condiment quick draw competition. You'll be ketchup and I'll be mustard. What do ya say, robber bro?"

"Rabble." He nodded in agreement.

Randy pointed to the robo-bartender. "You'll hold on to the patty and officiate the duel to keep this fair."

"Do I have a choice? Beep bop." The poor robot sounded like it would cry if it could. Considering it's entire business was just trashed by a fast food mascot and my brother, I didn't blame it.

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Standing out in a vast grassy field surrounded by nothing but cows and piles of their poop, noon nearly approached. At the moment, it was only the robot and I. There was no sign of Randy, who went off on his own to practice, or the Hamrobblar.

"What do we do if neither show up? Beep bop." The robot wondered.

"My brother will be here. You can count on that." I responded without an ounce of doubt. There was no way he would ever run away from a challenge, let alone one he issued himself.

A sudden "Rabble rabble!" Could be heard in the distance as the Hamrobblar came jogging toward us with a creepy stare in his eyes.

By the time he reached us, he dripped with sweat as he stood with his hands on his knees. It was obvious that he wasn't in great shape, probably from his diet of what I assumed was only burgers. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked up and noticed Randy wasn't there. He let out a laugh. "Rabble rabble rabble."

I had no idea what he was saying, but it was definitely a dig at my brother.

"It is only three minutes til noon, partner. Beep bop." The robot noted.

I was getting nervous. Randy was definitely bringing this down to the wire. If he didn't get here soon, he'd lose by forfeit.

"Two minutes. Beep bop..."

"One minute. Beep bop..."

"20 seconds. Beep bo-..."

The robot's count down was interrupted by a "yee-haw!", shouted by a figure out on the horizon... Sure enough, it was Randy, galloping as he straddled his stick horse between his legs.

"The hero always shows up in the nick of time." He declared as he stopped in front of the robot.

"You intentionally waited until the last second so you could say that, didn't you." I responded.

He chuckled. "Don't sweat the details, little bro. All that matters is that I'm here and I'm ready to win."

"Rabble." The Hamrobblar stared him down.

"Let's get this started robo-bro." Randy ordered the robot.

"On the count of three. Beep bop."

Both Randy and the Hamrobblar took their spots. There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down. Each wore a leather cowboy belt with a holster, which contained their condiment.

"One. Beep bop..." The robot began his countdown.

"Two. Beep bop..."

Both Randy and the Hamrobblar hovered their hands in a ready position over their holsters. The tension was so dense, you could cut it with a knife. I held my breath.

"Three! Beep bop."

The fart-like noise of a condiment bottle being squeezed hit my ears. Whatever happened was so fast my eyes couldn't detect it. The two of them just stood motionless... A second passed when the Hamrobblar fell to the ground. A mustard stain covered his orange prison jumpsuit.

"Everyone knows that Space Chicagoans never put ketchup on their hot dogs!" My brother proclaimed as he holstered his mustard bottle.

"Rabble rabble rabble rabble rabble!" The Hamrobblar panicked, as it grabbed the spot on his chest where the mustard hit.

I pulled up the translator app on my phone. It recorded his words then played the translation in a synthesized robotic tts voice. "I'm allergic to mustard!"

It let out a Shriek as something unexpected happened, it began to shrink. Gradually, in a matter of seconds, he became roughly the size of a pickle.

Randy knelt down and grasped him in his hand. "You messed with the wrong fry cook/company president/hero, burglar bro."

"Rabble rabble rabble!" It raged in a tiny high pitched voice.

"What the heck are we supposed to do with him now?" I wondered.

Randy thought for a moment. "Hmm... Yo robo-bro! Why don't you put him in a jar or something and make him do dances when patrons leave tips."

"That is not a bad idea. This buckeroo can pay off the damages you and him caused to my saloon. Beep bop."

"Rabble." The Hamrobblar gulped as the robot stared at him, menacingly.

Some might have considered this cruel and unusual punishment, but after that crotch kick he gave me, I had no sympathy for this mascot. In a way, this felt like revenge.

“Did somebody put you up to this?” I questioned him, still wondering about my hunch.

“...” He crossed his arms and refused to answer.

I couldn’t prove anything at the moment, but I would definitely be watching our backs going forward.

Randy collected the extra extreme ultra mega giga premium wagyu beef patty. "Well, little bro, I think we're about ready to open for business."

"Wait a second, Randy. Should we really be using that patty? Isn't it still stolen property."

He nonchalantly waived his hand. "It's fine. We stole it from the stealer, so it cancels out."

"I don't think that's how that-." I didn't even bother finishing since he was already making his way back to the ship, completely disregarding my concerns.

I didn't really have a choice, but to let this moral gray area slide. At the very least, we were finally ready to start selling burgers. Hopefully we could start making some revenue to pay back "our" loan (technically mine, since it was in my name).