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Action figures. Teddy bears. Barbie Dolls. Footballs. Basketballs. Hockey sticks. Doc stood in the center of the toy section, eyes bouncing from one row of toys to the next. When had the world decided that children needed so many different types of toys?
A dinosaur bellowed a mechanical growl from behind him. Doc jumped, barely keeping his revolvers holstered. Who made toys that sounded like hell-hounds on their way to drag him back to eternal damnation??
“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” A teenager with a friendly smile in a ridiculous neon green vest asked.
“I’m fine,” Doc snapped, re-adjusting his hat on his head, “Just sampling the fares. In my day, we had a doll or a train. That was it.”
“Well, we’ve come a long way from the Old West,” The teenager replied with a light laugh. “Is there anything specific you are looking for?”
Doc reddened at the implication of his origin, “I am seeking a present for my daughter. She is six.”
“Oh! I know just the thing! My little sister LOVES these,” The teenager said, turning around and grabbing something off the shelf. She handed the box out to Doc.
He took it, turning it over slowly. He grimaced. What in tarnation was an L.O.L Surprise?
“Seriously, you’d be like the best dad ever if you got that,” The teen said, nodding enthusiastically.
It was…unnerving.
Doc did his best to smile and nodded his thanks. He turned, leaving the teenager standing in the center of the aisle, to resume his quest for the perfect gift.
He would not be purchasing whatever abomination he currently held in his hand. Not on his life. Doc wandered down the next aisle, not at all impressed with the selection.
Alice needed something simple. Classic. Something that they could enjoy together, as a family.
He turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. There, in the display case, was the most perfect present he had ever seen.
Alice would be in awe.
*********************
“Wynonna!” Doc called, bursting through the door of the homestead.
Wynonna rushed out of the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and an almost empty glass in the other.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, her eyes roaming Doc’s body.
“I am not hurt, if that is what you are looking for,” Doc said, a grin so big his moustache curled up like a smiley face under his nose, “I have the perfect present for our Alice.”
“Shhh!” Wynonna scolded, looking up the stairs, “She just went up for bed.”
“My apologies, but you will understand when you see what fine specimen I have acquired. It is magic!”
“Oh no, buckaroo, we are not giving her anything that is magic,” Wynonna snorted, draining the rest of the whiskey in her glass, “You just take whatever it is right back to where you found it! No cuckoo shit on Christmas!”
“It is not truly magical, Wynonna, I too do not wish to bring the supernatural after my daughter. You will see when I show you,” Doc said, shaking his head.
“Fine then, show me the damn thing already,” Wynonna ordered.
Doc put his hand inside his coat, his fingers curling around the grip of a very much pistol shaped outline in his pocket.
“Doc, I swear to 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn infant Jesus, if you got our six year old daughter a revolver...” Wynonna started, the whiskey in the bottle she was holding sloshing as she pointed an accusing finger in his direction.
“A revolver? I would never!” Doc exclaimed, interrupting. He pulled the bright pink toy out of his pocket and pressed the trigger. Dozens of soapy rounds shot into the air accompanied by a loud buzzing whir. “It is a bubble gun!”