Chet Duke

"You first rosco, you like nooses. Boss had one around your neck for years." Chet snorted and chuckled. His eyes slowly gazed over the stranger, gauging his questioning before pressing his lips. "My fathers a no account low down yellow bellied dog, his named Beauregard Duke." Chet snapped. "Now you gonna leave or you want a piece of me?" (Cue Konrad.)

"Yeah, Duke. You got a problem with that?" Chet snapped at the stranger then turned to the Sheriff. "Butt out Rosco, you wouldnt touch me through iron bars to save your life. Chet snarled at the old sheriff glaring at him, then glaring at Konrad. A low growl of warnign echoed in Chets chest. "My names Chet Duke. And I wouldnt mind knowing who Im planting in the ground either." (Cue Konrad.)

Chets eyes narrowed lethally as the stranger talked back at him. "The only problem is.... were of the same breed and your in my town and now so are they. Why.... I have no idea why your hear and I dont care. No one steps on my toes." He glared and moved forward to come nose to nose with the stranger. (Cue Konrad.)

Chet stopped in mid step as him and the older stranger almost ran right into each other. He only growled in annoyance and hurried up into the board walk to go over to the saloon and lean in the door way. He casually lit a hand rolled cigarrette and looked in on the six rough lookin strangers. Once he'd has his fill of surveying them he walked off the board walk and crossed the street pausin mid way. "Ya got 12 hours..." He snapped. "Dont press your luck with me." (Cue Konrad.)

The six roughians shoved there way into the bar walkin right up to the counter and ordering a round of there choice. They each drank thristy like they'd ridden hard and long. There faces mean and ugly looking as they gazed over the games of poker going on and all the pretty ladies for rent. Near lunch time Chet took a break to deliver three freshly broke horses he'd been working with days before to a farmer who needed them. Then he rode into town to get a bite to eat, tired but still as alert as a skitish horse. He went to the cafe, immediately taking note of the six unfamiliar tired horses standing at the hitchin rail down the street at the hotel. (Cue Konrad.)

The young cowboy was up with the break of dawn, breakfast was quick and simple. Then it was down to the creek for a bath and shave before getting onto his work for the day. Twelve of the meanest, rankest, most ornery horses galloped around in a holding corral he'd built. Each waiting to try there luck at bucking the cowboy off. For every one horse that he was able to saddle break to ride, he earned 10 dollars. For every horse he stole, a fine price of $25 dollars came for a handsome animal. By the time the sun had reached high in the sky Chet was busy bucking as many horses as he could withstand. Meanwhile in town, six riders rode in halting there sweating and frothed up mounts at the front of the hotel, each of them having atleast one tied down pistol on there hip. All of them looking like they'd crawled outta the deepest darkest shadow of hell. (Cue Konrad.)

"C'mon handsome." The painted lady led Konrad away, up the stairs and to her room for the rest of the evening. Chet rode away into the darkness heading back to his small camp far away from everyone and everything. A canvas bunker tent protected him from the rain, while his small cabin was still a skeleton in the midest of being built. He bedded down and slept near a war fire, night going and the early rays of sunshine peaking over the moutains at dawn. (Cue Konrad.)

"It wasnt a threat...." Chet glared with fire in his eyes. "Its a promise." He turned away and sleekly folded himself into the crowd, bending through and past it. Going back out side he gathered his horses reins and backed the long legged animal up away from the hitching rail before mounting the horses back. The painted lady inside the saloon wrapped hersefl back around the strangers shoulders and arms. "C'mon handsome... let me make all your worries disapear." (Cue Konrad.)

A streek of jealousy struck Chet deep as he watched the stranger romance and pull Naughty Maudy's strings one at a time. He growled under his breath and shoved his beer away in annoyance. Chet leande towards the stranger and growled in his other ear, nearly snarling. His hand came up and grabbed the older mans shirt collar to be sure he had his attention. "Go ahead and have fun with her... but after that you got 24 hours starting at midnight tonight to get the hell outta this town. Or I mount your head on a stick for everyone to stare at when they come in that door." Chet let him go roughly and got up from the bar, standing at well over 6 feet tall. "Are we clear?" (Cue Konrad.)

Chet pressed his lips not liking the way the stranger scoffed at him. He by passed it for now and turned slightly gaze a moment. One of the ladies that worked the bar, painted up and dressed pretty came over and smiled widely at the stranger. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and leaned against his side. "What'll it be handsome? How about a one night stay with a bottle of any spirit of your choice?" The under dressed women for rent asked him with a bat of darkned eye lashes. Chet pressed his lips in annoyance... the bar room lady that was now hanging on the stranger always came to him first. But tonight she'd approached the stranger over him. Even on evenings when the saloon was full, Naughty Maudy had wrapped herself around the young outlaw Dukes broad shoulders to see if she could sell him a evening. Many times she had. (Cue Konrad.)

John Travolta is the only reason anyone even remembers this movie! Urban Cowboy gives the cowboy legacy a bad name. Mechanical bull riding? Yeah now thats manly. Sure its fun to ride a mechanical bull but if your dumb enough to fight over it so forther... thats taken it way to far. Leme tell you something from the real world. Bull riding is one of the very few sports where contestants who compete against each other pitch in a help each other. It is a sport against animal not man vs. man. You will rarely if ever see a pair of rodeo cowboys fighting at the rodeo. Bars and everything afterwards... yeah sure. Movies like that give people the wrong idea, just like the new Dukes movies... there crap cause they aint the way its suposed to be! ~Chet Duke

"Yeah... I'd like to know what your doin in my territory." Chet glanced at the stranger, his dark mismatched eyes not as friendly as they had been as he'd watched the man enter the saloon. The young Duke man could smell trouble walkin like greed in a Hogg. He could also see that beneath the lack of spurs and casual attire this guy was threatening his status. No other law threatening man was gonna walk the streets of his town without him knowing it. Chet took a gulp of his beer, his back strait and firm as he sat at the bar intent on rufflin answers outta the stranger. The outlaw Duke boys appearence left nothing in question, towns folk coulda picked him out in a line up. A deep black stetson set low on his brow, shadowing a pair of half blind dark mismatched eyes. A long duster covered a deep blue double breasted shirt. On each hip a matching colt lay tied down in hand made holsters, perfect for his lightening fast draw. Chocolate brown leather chaps and brown boots topped off with heavy spurs made him nearly 200 pounds of mean outlaw. (Cue Konrad.)

Chet watched the strange looking cowboy get off the mustangs bare back. He had to hand it to the fella, it was a nice looking horse, a crazy loony sorta nice but some of the best are. He tilted his head watching the fella go inside the saloon, his eyes scanned over him. The long swayin steps of the cowboy seemed to be in a familiar trait, a nature that a certain breed came to know in a certain life style. "Im gonna go for a drink Red, you stay here... watch that lil mustang over yonder ok?" The Red gelding bobbed his head and nickered in reply as Chet slid from his back and stepped up onto the board walk. He went inside, his own steps long and with that very same flowing manner. His back strait and firm, alert and capable of a lightening fast reaction to an oposing force. Quietly and casually Chet sat down at the bar beside the stranger and ordered a cold beer. (Cue Konrad.)

*NOTE TO ALL: THIS STORY IS RESERVED FOR CUED MUSES ONLY. THAT MEANS THAT IF MYSELF OR SOMEONE ELSE WRITING IN THIS STORY DOESNT CUE YOUR PERSONALLY OWNED OR AN ORIGINAL CAST CHARACTER YOU MAY NOT POST A REPLY! THANK YOU!* -------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Thanks Doric! Have a good evening." Chet Duke called back to the lady at the cash register as he left the small corner store in down town Hazzard. His arms weighed down with plastic bags of groceries that his wife had sent him to fetch at the store. He was relieved to finally reach his white Dodge Charger parked beside the curb and dump the arm full of goods into the passenger seat. A bright yellow piece of paper flickered from the breeze as it was clamped down onto his car’s windshield by the wiper blade. Chet walked around the fender of the car and grabbed up the paper from under the wiper. He glanced over the announcement as he slid in through the car’s window. Chet read aloud to himself, “Poker game to be held at the Hazzard Hotel on Friday June 13th 2006. All proceeds go to the Hazzard County Orphanage fund.†The young Duke boy snorted in amusement as he started the Charger and pulled away from the curb. Dropping the flyer on top of the groceries next to him, he could only bet that the proceeds weren’t in fact going to the orphanage. Knowing Hazzard’s crooked law system the chances that money would be pocketed by Commissioner Hogg were very high. Having it announced for a charitable cause like that was the only way that the gambling of that sort could be held legally. The young Duke boy arrived home. His wife wasn’t yet home and wouldn’t be for at least another hour or so. He unloaded the groceries and tacked the flyer up on the refrigerator as if it was usual. After doing so he decided to grab his deck of cards from the drawer and head on out to the barn. There was no time like the present to brush up on his skills, even if he didn’t enter to play the game. His infamous Red gelding nickered in greeting and Chet pulled a sugar cube from his pocket and fed it to the tall red-ish colored Thoroughbred horse. He patted his hand on the horse’s strong cheek and pulled up a couple bales of hay to sit on and play cards. Chet shuffled the cards in his hands an began dealing them out as if he were playing with one other person, this was a good fashion to practice. He’d play both hands against each other and see which would win. The barn radio from the tack room ticked out tunes like it was going out of style. Everything from Johnny Cash to the newest hits of year came across the air waves. Chet couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when an old familiar song came on. It was too irresistible to not begin singing along with the tune. "You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em.......Know when to walk away and know when to run......" Chet tapped his boot against the concrete floor of the barn in rhythm to the music. "You never count your money, when you're sittin' at the table.....There'll be time enough for countin', when the dealin's done!" As Chet was singing one the cards in his hand slipped from his fingers and fell between the stall wall and the bale of hay he was sitting on. He discontinued his singing and gathered the remaining cards in his hands, as he stood and pushed the bale of hay out of the way. "Now where in the hell did that card go..." Chet muttered to himself and got down on his knees fishing his hand between the space in the concrete where the floor ended and the wall of the horse stall began. The old barn was as ancient as the ranch house that he lived in. Each had been built somewhere in the mid 1850's. Both buildings had survived the fires of the civil war. Some time in the early 1900's electricity had been installed in the home and barn. Then not shortly after the new owners moved out claiming the old home was haunted with ghosts of the past. From there the entire ranch was sold time and time again. Still it managed to survive the great depression, the change over to extreme technology that sent the country to the moon and finally up to date with the modern world. Chet’s fingers felt over paper and what seemed to feel like the card he had lost so he clamped on and pulled. Rather then retrieve his lost playing card he pulled out a half opened book, the pages dark an dirty from being in the crack for so long. The edges were chewed as though mice had had there way with it for some time. "Hmmm what’s this?" He muttered to his horse, who came to the stall gate an sniffled the antique book. Red perked his ears with interest and snorted a heavy breath on the book as he an Chet looked it over examining it. "My thought exactly." Chet chuckled an sat back down on the hay bale forgetting about his lost card, the ancient book taking his interest. The Thoroughbred hung his head over the tall gate eager to watch and see what would happen with the book. Chet opened the cover, just inside there seemed to have been a name or title written once but the ink was illegibly washed out from years of dampness in the barn. On the next page was a date and the book contained a well drawn picture of what appeared to be a courthouse. "1870 Town of Hazzard Georgia." Chet read aloud and turned the page. Quietly he began to read the hand written text... ******************************* **Town of Hazzard Georgia, 1870.** A commotion had come over the town causing people to gather thickly around the bulletin board out in front of the mercantile store. Men chattered to each other, never before had such a grand announcement been made in the little town. The second biggest game of Poker known in history was going to be held right there at the grand Hazzard hotel. The news was spreading quickly through out the town. The telegraph office was humming with the sounds of messages going out all over the country. Owners from surrounding store fronts were suddenly scrambling to put in extra orders for supplies. The on goings at the hotel was going to draw in on lookers and players from every corner of the map. Even as evening came on and darkness began to settle over the town the bustle to get prepared in one week’s time seemed to continue. A familiar rider made his way into town his long legged, fiery red Thoroughbred horse perked its ears at all the bustle still going on in the town and slowed to a walk. Chet Duke glanced around curiously. Usually by this time of night on a Sunday evening every woman and child had gone home and bedded down for the night. But here were children still playing in the streets, the Boars Nest Saloon twanged with the sound of a live piano. The building seemed to be packed and a few men with beer mugs in their hands lingered in the door way. The twenty-one year old son of Bo Duke had gotten wind of the news about the games going to be held right there in his home town. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would start this much commotion in such a small town as Hazzard was. Chet drew his horse to a halt at the hitching rail in front of the Saloon and hooked his knee around the saddle horn as he built a cigarette. His mismatched eyes looked around taking everything in. Glancing down the line of horses at the railing, half expecting to see many familiar animals and maybe some not so familiar. The young Duke couldn’t help but wonder what kind of faces the news of the games would draw in… (Cue Konrad Duke. Anyone interested in joining, contact me.)

Loretta's a good choice, but mine by far would have to be Waylon Jennings. Aint no balladeer ever been like him.

Manga-Anime Style Dukes of Hazzard Comic? OVER MY DEAD ROTTING CORPSE! I agree with Val, traditional style comics would do DOH respect and dignity. Ya want Manga go watch the new Dukes movies, there about as messed up enough to match up to that. However.... just because a comic is "traditional style" doesnt mean it has to be as "busy" looking as a marvel comic. Some of the greatest works of art are done by a solo artists own style. Ya gonna get more attention pulling a newbie off the street then ya are something thats been done over and over again and worn out. Maybe someday when I get a scanner I'll do some comics, show ya what I mean. I did a few for alittle while, but there time consuming and have no way of paying for themself at this time. ~Dee

I saw a great advertisement for that it really looks like its gonna be awesome. I like scarey movies and that one is definately on my list to see. Last weekend I went and saw "Blood and Chocolate" it was not like I would have expected it was really really very cool! Its more then worth seeing. ~Chet

Today is a very sad day in the horse world folks. As many of you probably saw on the news today, a young race horse named Barbaro was mercifully put down by choice of his owners after either long months of fighting to survive a terribly shattered leg. In 2006 this young bay colt won one of the greatest horse races in the world. The Kentucky Derby, he capatured the eye and hearts of horse lovers, young and old. Many horses before him like the great Man O' War and the sweet Secretariat became American Heroes in a time of war and depression. Barbaro turned out to be like them, in this time of war and in such a negative world, this big horse brought us a story that we could all latch onto. Barbaro will be greatly missed by his family and millions of fans who kindly donated to support him during his many surgeries and battle to survive. Among millions of other horse owners, I have lost a American hero today. An animal who deserves to be on the same page with legendary names such as... Man O' War, Secretariat, Exterminator, Fair Play, Fairmount, War Admiral, Seabiscuit, Funny Cide, John Henry, Lonesome Glory, Afleet Alex, Pharlap, Ruffian, Citation, Affirmed, Alydar, Native Dancer, Whirlaway and I must mention my best friend, my own beloved retired race horse Nowhere To Go. We will all miss you Barbaro. ~Denise Wallan.

~Brian And some other misguided loyalists... that may not have been around to stand at your side will be there. *Tips my hat to ya.* ~Chet

Ok, time for my two cents. I agree with other people on this board, dude your doing way too much complaining. I respect other peoples opinions also, but I aint one to wanna hear it over and over. Complaining is complaining. I'll tell ya something Tim Duke, I am 20 years old. I was only about 15 when I arrived here at Hazzardnet and I didnt know a damn thing about the Dukes of Hazzard. I got interested in them because my older brother liked the General Lee, and I explored from there. I never saw any of the original airings of the Dukes [duh.. Im 20, they aired 27 or so years ago.] But does this make me any less of a fan then you or anyone else out there? Or any less of a DOH writer? I dont think so. Ask anyone of the awesome older writers around here, and all of them will tell you, that my knowledge of the Dukes makes me no less then any of them. Hell I havent even seen all of the original episodes and Ive been here 5+ years now. I dont own a 69" Charger, and I dont have even 1/8th of the original memoribilia. So what... I love the Dukes and I love writen fanfiction. And if you dont mind I'd sure like to get back to the news that this topic was posted for. Dont spill the milk dude... ~Chet Duke

Bo Duke Girl... No offense to the majority of the other people who have posted to this, but heres alittle advice from someone who DID drop outta school and not all that long ago. Lets see... its 2006... so 2 years ago. So you know when I say it I mean it. MAN WAS I STUPID! Now Im too old to go back, luckily I was granted the chance to get a diploma and went for it. It was the best thing I could do, but its nothing like the real thing. *clears throat* Ok, Lets start from the top, like people said above, you think schools stressful and hard. Lets compare some things here. We'll say you live at home with your parents, they support you, meaning they give you all the needs in life. Food, clothing and roof over your head. Thats a "hand it to me" right there. Ok compare that to a drop out who has no home, no food or money to buy any cause without school theres no job. It just dont happen, even a gas station wont pick ya up for that 6 bucks an hour Brian talked about these days. They just wont do it unless you got the diploma. It aint worth there time. Your looking at school as a bowl 1/2 empty instead of half ful. "Oh gawd its so hard... Im so bored... when will the day be over. Lookit all this homework... blah blah blah..." yeah thats really gonna help ya pass. Why dont you look at it as an adventure, when I went back to get my "diploma" I thought it was gonna be another boring day. But ya know what, I opened up my books and went... OH MY GAWD!!! Lookit the adventure! EVERYTHING! Your taught in school has a mathmatical reasoning behind it...(thast coming from a mathmatical dummy).... and EVERYTHING has a historical time line behind it. Its only work and boring if you make it that way. Lookit everything from another direction... explore it. Maybe someday you'll step into a tomb that aint had a living soul in it for thousands of years... you'll need everything you learned to unrattle the history, mathmatics and language behind that tomb. Put your head in a new state of mind... see how ya make out. And no more staying home... makes for a bad rep. See ya. ~Chet Duke (P.S. Hey Brian, school pranks would make for a good topic, thanks for the idea. Hoep you'll come share yours. )

I got two song for ya'll also. (I swear Im not fallowin ya around the boards Luke, just a coincidence.) Ok, first song, Im not sure if its been mentioned or not. "Where the Black Top Ends" By: Keith Urban. That ones pretty self explanitory, we all have left and returned to Hazzard atleast once in our life. And the second song, Im almost postive aint been mentioned. I really aint sure why this one stands out as a song that reminds me of the Dukes. Maybe because the idea of the hat makes the country boy alittle different yet just as tough as anyone else, and just as equal. The Dukes were always country folk, and probably acused of it a time or two, just like this guy in the song is acused for his cowboy hat. The song is called "This Cowboys Hat" By: Chris Ledoux, hats off to you Chris, rest easy ol' cowboy. ~Chet Duke

Lingering smoke exhaled through Chets nostrils as he leaned against the railing of the board walk. He looked out into the coming darkness and the drum of horses hooves echoed until his uncle and father reined up. The younger Duke stepped back from the railing, pressing his cigarette between his lips and watching the older Dukes with a cast of wary mismatched eyes. He leaned against the side of the building and dragged on his cigarette, staying quiet and out of the way. The stable boy quickly took both horses and lead them away to be walked, watered, fed and rubbed down. A side ways smirk cast onto Chet lips around his smoke, it was true that the board walk consisted of mostly “gentle folkâ€, you didn’t include him. A small snort and chuckle escaped his throat and nose in amusement, it didn’t surprise him that his own kin had over looked him. “Aw your too kind Luke, I’ve never been regarded so kindly.†Chet laughed lowly, a sly smirk in his expression. “Gee I can’t imagine whos in charge, do ya suppose it could be old Abe himself?†His laughter continued in its vile tone. (Cue Luke or anyone.)

Hey ya'll... this was a great idea. However, I only want one thing for Christmas. Ever since I became a father material items really dont have much value to me. I dont think Santa can put my gift in a bag, or wrap it in pretty paper with a bow. The only thing I want this year, is to be with my family and people I consider family on Christmas. Some bad medicain has gone through my family this past year and I hope that somehow they can all see past it and come together this holiday season. And if I have one wish for Christmas, thats for my family to see past there differences and come to care for each other again. Happy Hollidays ya'll. ~Chet Duke

*Rolls on floor laughing.* Thats real great, ya made my day. Speaking of things like that, Im part of a Wild West Reenactment group called "Shadows of the Old West". A majority of the actors, including myself use blank guns, the same guns that proffessionals use in those fantastic western movies. One of my guns is a .22 Caliber Colt. To order blank amunition for this gun is outragiously priced. I asked one of my fellow actors, an older man who helped me get into this group suggested that like the others I use the .22 shells you put in a nail gun to fire nails into concrete. So I went to my local hardware store and purchased a box. Shot up a 100 rounds in one weekend, so I purchased more. Then one evening after cleaning my guns I happend to read the back of the box that the shells came in. It specifically notes that they should not be used in a blank firing gun. Yet my friends have used them for years! Hmmm...well 350 rounds later... I dont think theres much harm in them. *laughs.* ~Chet Duke