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"There's not enough room in this forum for the two of us." FM slammed his emptied whisky glass down on the wooden counter. "Step outside, Grix......"
Grix eyed FM carefully. They'd known each other for a long time, but things had been gettin' a little strained lately."
"What's this about, FM," he demanded, making his way through the packed but hushed saloon and pushing the swinging doors outwards as he stepped onto the dusty ground outside.
"Well," replied FM, pushing open the doors again and following Grix outside into the hot, dry air, "You've bushwhacked one of my topics just one time too many. It's time we had this out. Mano a Mano. Poster to Poster."
Grix paused in his stride to think of a witty retort about FM's last comment, then decided that now was probably not the time.
"So, what's it to be? 10 paces, turn and fire?" asked Grix, making sure his gunbelt was fastened properly.
"You know me better than that, Grix. 30 paces." FM checked his gunbelt. The Smith and Wesson 6-shot revolver hung loosely at his right hip.
They stood back to back under the glare of the midday sun, and started to count.....
1....2....3....
The occupants of the saloon were packing the windows trying to get a glimpse of the showdown outside. This was unheard of. The last shootout in the town of Last Chance Reserve had been quite a time ago, when the Er-no posse had cleaned out the Desperate Dans, but this was different. Two equally matched opponents were about to face off.
Insane Bartender was going even more nuts behind the saloon's counter because he was losing good sales whilst all this was going on.
Outside, the count was at 25.... as FM glanced to his right and saw PB on the roof of the Red Splat Hotel and Boarding House, shotgun at hand. PB nodded with a knowing look. FM nodded back.
The count was 26.... as Grix looked across to the SR Saddlery, where he spied Sniper with his trusty Winchester Rifle. Grix gave a brief nod. Sniper returned it.
27....28...29..
Dust whirled up as both men spun to face each other. The blast of PB's shotgun firing both barrels broke the deafening silence that preceeded it, and a cloud of sand flew up at Grix's feet as the buckshot ploughed into the ground.
Grix drew his gun and took aim, FM was still drawing his because he was left handed and his belt was on the wrong way, Sniper fired his rifle, and there was a sharp report, then a clatter as PB dropped his shotgun and swandived off the roof of the hotel and landed in a horse trough.
FM grappled with his pistol, it had snagged in the holster, and he reminded himself to be more careful where he left his chewing gum.
Grix took pity. (No he didn't). Grix fired his gun. Fortunately, FM and done his research and Grix's eyesight wasn't as good as it should have been, and at 30 paces it was like trying to read a Wanted Poster through a mirage. Grix's first bullet flew out of town faster than a newbie Gameaday winner. He wasn't sure if he had hit FM or not, but then he heard FM pull back the hammer of his Smith and Wesson with a
*click*
Grix eyed FM carefully. They'd known each other for a long time, but things had been gettin' a little strained lately."
"What's this about, FM," he demanded, making his way through the packed but hushed saloon and pushing the swinging doors outwards as he stepped onto the dusty ground outside.
"Well," replied FM, pushing open the doors again and following Grix outside into the hot, dry air, "You've bushwhacked one of my topics just one time too many. It's time we had this out. Mano a Mano. Poster to Poster."
Grix paused in his stride to think of a witty retort about FM's last comment, then decided that now was probably not the time.
"So, what's it to be? 10 paces, turn and fire?" asked Grix, making sure his gunbelt was fastened properly.
"You know me better than that, Grix. 30 paces." FM checked his gunbelt. The Smith and Wesson 6-shot revolver hung loosely at his right hip.
They stood back to back under the glare of the midday sun, and started to count.....
1....2....3....
The occupants of the saloon were packing the windows trying to get a glimpse of the showdown outside. This was unheard of. The last shootout in the town of Last Chance Reserve had been quite a time ago, when the Er-no posse had cleaned out the Desperate Dans, but this was different. Two equally matched opponents were about to face off.
Insane Bartender was going even more nuts behind the saloon's counter because he was losing good sales whilst all this was going on.
Outside, the count was at 25.... as FM glanced to his right and saw PB on the roof of the Red Splat Hotel and Boarding House, shotgun at hand. PB nodded with a knowing look. FM nodded back.
The count was 26.... as Grix looked across to the SR Saddlery, where he spied Sniper with his trusty Winchester Rifle. Grix gave a brief nod. Sniper returned it.
27....28...29..
Dust whirled up as both men spun to face each other. The blast of PB's shotgun firing both barrels broke the deafening silence that preceeded it, and a cloud of sand flew up at Grix's feet as the buckshot ploughed into the ground.
Grix drew his gun and took aim, FM was still drawing his because he was left handed and his belt was on the wrong way, Sniper fired his rifle, and there was a sharp report, then a clatter as PB dropped his shotgun and swandived off the roof of the hotel and landed in a horse trough.
FM grappled with his pistol, it had snagged in the holster, and he reminded himself to be more careful where he left his chewing gum.
Grix took pity. (No he didn't). Grix fired his gun. Fortunately, FM and done his research and Grix's eyesight wasn't as good as it should have been, and at 30 paces it was like trying to read a Wanted Poster through a mirage. Grix's first bullet flew out of town faster than a newbie Gameaday winner. He wasn't sure if he had hit FM or not, but then he heard FM pull back the hammer of his Smith and Wesson with a
*click*
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They tripped but luckly no injuries and escaped succesfully and that is how they got hold of the gold.
That night Grix and FM returned sneaking through the shadows darting between building to building and they soon got to the wagon.
"Do you see anything" wispeared Grix knowing full well it was a stupid question you couldn't see a thing!
"No" replied FM in a hushed wispear
Grix shuddered the signs of disaster was all there but he couldn't see them so possesed with fear to care. Something caught FM's eye a small light darting across the street at suprising speed.
"quick get bad" FM said in a panicky voice
No matter how far they hid the light seemed to know where they are Grix held his breath...
"SHEEPY" FM said a little too loud
"well done" said Grix as a noise came from the wagon
"WHO's there" said the voice aware of a problem
"why did you have to shout?" Sheepy said annoyed
"Why do you have to be here?" said FM
"just shhh" Grix said very serious for a change
The man wondered towards them squinting through the dark. Grix quickly pulled out his magnum and took aim
click
"why didn't it fire?" Grix said in horror
"it is an old model" replied Sheepy
"Now you tell me" Grix said seriously p***** off
The man from the wagon reached for a shotgun as FM struggled with his pistel holster again.
"It's too late" said Sheepy
But as the man raised his shotgun soft trotting could be heared coming in their direction...
It was Dringo riding his trusty steed Epona holding a TV and Gamecube he just swiped from the local EB.
The man took aim with his shotgun as Dringo headed at great speed in his direction.
He smiled at the man and dropped his TV and Gamecube in front of him and Dringo quickly darted off
Grix, FM and Sheepy took the gold off the wagon as the man played on his Gamecube not stopping to play even with his job on the line...
Grix and FM prepared to escape but...
"Do you see anything" wispeared Grix knowing full well it was a stupid question you couldn't see a thing!
"No" replied FM in a hushed wispear
Grix shuddered the signs of disaster was all there but he couldn't see them so possesed with fear to care. Something caught FM's eye a small light darting across the street at suprising speed.
"quick get bad" FM said in a panicky voice
No matter how far they hid the light seemed to know where they are Grix held his breath...
"SHEEPY" FM said a little too loud
"well done" said Grix as a noise came from the wagon
"WHO's there" said the voice aware of a problem
"why did you have to shout?" Sheepy said annoyed
"Why do you have to be here?" said FM
"just shhh" Grix said very serious for a change
The man wondered towards them squinting through the dark. Grix quickly pulled out his magnum and took aim
click
"why didn't it fire?" Grix said in horror
"it is an old model" replied Sheepy
"Now you tell me" Grix said seriously p***** off
The man from the wagon reached for a shotgun as FM struggled with his pistel holster again.
"It's too late" said Sheepy
But as the man raised his shotgun soft trotting could be heared coming in their direction...
It was Dringo riding his trusty steed Epona holding a TV and Gamecube he just swiped from the local EB.
The man took aim with his shotgun as Dringo headed at great speed in his direction.
He smiled at the man and dropped his TV and Gamecube in front of him and Dringo quickly darted off
Grix, FM and Sheepy took the gold off the wagon as the man played on his Gamecube not stopping to play even with his job on the line...
Grix and FM prepared to escape but...
The sun was starting to rise as the mysterious stranger entered town. Dust flew up behind his white horse as he rode towards the hanging sign, blowing back and forth in the wind.
"Hm." He said in a gruff deep voice. "Smells like trouble."
He dismounted and went to the the nearby bar. Opening the swinging door with a flick, he saw the scene before him. The bar was virtually empty and the customers who were there sat and cowered as they saw the stranger enter and walk to the bar.
"Milk." he said to the barman.
"Milk?" the barman saw the stranger's expression and decided to rephrase his last statement. "Milk. Ok. So what brings you to the town?"
"Two men. Robbed a local bank. Know anything?" was the short reply.
"Well..." said the barman, always a mine of information and glad to assist anyone who get his customers going outside of their houses again. "It seems one of them left a wallet behind. Their names are FM and Grix, everyone's afraid that they'll come back. Word has it that Sheepy, our local gunsmith, had seen them last. He's just around the corner on the right."
"Thanks." The stranger lifted his finger to his hat and tossed a small gold coin on the table, then silently walked out.
"No. Thank you." The barman said to his back. "and lets hope you come back alive." he whispered to himself.
"Hm." He said in a gruff deep voice. "Smells like trouble."
He dismounted and went to the the nearby bar. Opening the swinging door with a flick, he saw the scene before him. The bar was virtually empty and the customers who were there sat and cowered as they saw the stranger enter and walk to the bar.
"Milk." he said to the barman.
"Milk?" the barman saw the stranger's expression and decided to rephrase his last statement. "Milk. Ok. So what brings you to the town?"
"Two men. Robbed a local bank. Know anything?" was the short reply.
"Well..." said the barman, always a mine of information and glad to assist anyone who get his customers going outside of their houses again. "It seems one of them left a wallet behind. Their names are FM and Grix, everyone's afraid that they'll come back. Word has it that Sheepy, our local gunsmith, had seen them last. He's just around the corner on the right."
"Thanks." The stranger lifted his finger to his hat and tossed a small gold coin on the table, then silently walked out.
"No. Thank you." The barman said to his back. "and lets hope you come back alive." he whispered to himself.
Night again... I wonder why it's always night when I go to write?
The light from the strong fire gave FantasyMeister a chance to check the loot. Ant was busy thinking about the sugar he would be spending his earnings on... and Grix was worried.
"Fm." Grix sat down.
FantasyMeister lost count... "YES?"
"...Do you think they know who we are?"
FantasyMeister stared at Grix... to see if he was serious or not.
He was.
"We walked into the bank without anything covering our faces, AND, to add insult to injury, you decided to leave your wallet on the counter!"
"...Is that a yes?"
"YES IT IS!"
"Oh... well... I was just wondering... what happens when we get caught?"
"That's easy, we won't get caught."
"Yeah... but hypothetically, if we do. What happens?"
"We get hung."
"Yeah... I though as much." Grix got up again... and headed to feed his hoss.
FantasyMeister started counting again. Perhaps he could get past three without getting interrupted this time...
One... two... three... ah yes. Easy. Four...
"Fm?" Grix was back.
"YES."
"Where could we head next? The money won't last too long... after food, National Insurance, Tax, my pension scheme..."
At last... a sensible question.
"I was actually thinking of robbing another bank... but there is word of a large amount of gold being taken through this area soon by the dozen... It might be a good idea to try that."
"In the meantime..." Grix added. "I've got a good idea what to spend that money on..."
-----
Sheepy's guns and ammo emporium's sign was barely readable... still, Grix and Fm found the shop ok.
The little bell over the door alerted Sheepy to customers... well it should had, but it wasn't working.
"I would like to buy a gun." Said Grix.
"You have come... err... to the right place." Sheepy took some revolvers from under the desk, and placed them on the counter. FantasyMeister picked up two guns, and looked at them...
He picked up a Smith and Wesson, and took away the handle. He unscrewed some parts...
"I'm actually thinking of investing in a rifle, dear sir."
"Ah..." Sheepy encouraged Grix to follow him... As Grix left, he watched FM take apart every gun on the table... and begin to put them all back together...
Sheepy led Grix through a large twisting corridor, to a darkened room, and turned on the lights.
"I know you... I know what sort of thing you like..." Sheepy opened a guns cabinet...
"A Lee Enfield... scope... laser... rocket accessory?"
"Yeah... don't see why not."
"Would you like to test the gun sir?"
Sheepy led Grix out of the room... And into the outside garden. Grix let off a few shots with it...
"Very good. That'll do nicely. But I'm only going to use this when necessary, not as per usual... so I'll need a pistol as well."
"Rightio sir."
Sheepy led Grix back through the maze of hallways... and back into the shop entrance.
FantasyMeister held up his gun... It was a normal sized pistol, left handed... He must have built it himself.
Sheepy walked up to the counter to put the rest of the guns away... when he suddenly noticed that they were no guns to put away. Sheepy looked at FantasyMeisters gun...
"Where are all the other guns?"
"I took them apart, and built this." FantasyMeister showed Sheepy his gun again...
"O... k...." Sheepy turned to Grix. "The only other gun I keep is a Magnum... quite a kickback, but with a well aimed shot, it could blow your head clean off."
Sheepy stared deep into the white of Grix's eyes. He stared straight back, wide eyed.
"I'll take it, then..."
After buying holsters, and ammo, and ponchos and nice new hats, and a scarf, Grix and FantasyMeister left the shop, and thought they looked real cool.
They walked down the street, sneering at anyone who would dare to come close... ...and Grix noticed a poster stuck on the wall...
"Hey!" Grix shouted... "Look! It's us! On the wanted poster!"
FantasyMeister stared at Grix until he shut up. And then punched him.
"3000... that's quite a bit... but we could get a hell of a lot more."
"I wonder how much of that is because of me..." Said Fm as they walked away...
A large rumbling came from behind them... they turned around...
A large wagon rolled through the town, guards kept to each side. It stopped outside the town's hotel... A man leapt from the wagon and went into the hotel... the guards stayed outside... and guarded the wagon...
"Humm." Said Grix... "That could be that gold reserve that I was talking about..."
FantasyMeister looked at the wagon. "And it looks like it might be there a while... lets have a look tonight."
Grix and FantasyMeister got on their hosses, and rode off towards their camp...
The light from the strong fire gave FantasyMeister a chance to check the loot. Ant was busy thinking about the sugar he would be spending his earnings on... and Grix was worried.
"Fm." Grix sat down.
FantasyMeister lost count... "YES?"
"...Do you think they know who we are?"
FantasyMeister stared at Grix... to see if he was serious or not.
He was.
"We walked into the bank without anything covering our faces, AND, to add insult to injury, you decided to leave your wallet on the counter!"
"...Is that a yes?"
"YES IT IS!"
"Oh... well... I was just wondering... what happens when we get caught?"
"That's easy, we won't get caught."
"Yeah... but hypothetically, if we do. What happens?"
"We get hung."
"Yeah... I though as much." Grix got up again... and headed to feed his hoss.
FantasyMeister started counting again. Perhaps he could get past three without getting interrupted this time...
One... two... three... ah yes. Easy. Four...
"Fm?" Grix was back.
"YES."
"Where could we head next? The money won't last too long... after food, National Insurance, Tax, my pension scheme..."
At last... a sensible question.
"I was actually thinking of robbing another bank... but there is word of a large amount of gold being taken through this area soon by the dozen... It might be a good idea to try that."
"In the meantime..." Grix added. "I've got a good idea what to spend that money on..."
-----
Sheepy's guns and ammo emporium's sign was barely readable... still, Grix and Fm found the shop ok.
The little bell over the door alerted Sheepy to customers... well it should had, but it wasn't working.
"I would like to buy a gun." Said Grix.
"You have come... err... to the right place." Sheepy took some revolvers from under the desk, and placed them on the counter. FantasyMeister picked up two guns, and looked at them...
He picked up a Smith and Wesson, and took away the handle. He unscrewed some parts...
"I'm actually thinking of investing in a rifle, dear sir."
"Ah..." Sheepy encouraged Grix to follow him... As Grix left, he watched FM take apart every gun on the table... and begin to put them all back together...
Sheepy led Grix through a large twisting corridor, to a darkened room, and turned on the lights.
"I know you... I know what sort of thing you like..." Sheepy opened a guns cabinet...
"A Lee Enfield... scope... laser... rocket accessory?"
"Yeah... don't see why not."
"Would you like to test the gun sir?"
Sheepy led Grix out of the room... And into the outside garden. Grix let off a few shots with it...
"Very good. That'll do nicely. But I'm only going to use this when necessary, not as per usual... so I'll need a pistol as well."
"Rightio sir."
Sheepy led Grix back through the maze of hallways... and back into the shop entrance.
FantasyMeister held up his gun... It was a normal sized pistol, left handed... He must have built it himself.
Sheepy walked up to the counter to put the rest of the guns away... when he suddenly noticed that they were no guns to put away. Sheepy looked at FantasyMeisters gun...
"Where are all the other guns?"
"I took them apart, and built this." FantasyMeister showed Sheepy his gun again...
"O... k...." Sheepy turned to Grix. "The only other gun I keep is a Magnum... quite a kickback, but with a well aimed shot, it could blow your head clean off."
Sheepy stared deep into the white of Grix's eyes. He stared straight back, wide eyed.
"I'll take it, then..."
After buying holsters, and ammo, and ponchos and nice new hats, and a scarf, Grix and FantasyMeister left the shop, and thought they looked real cool.
They walked down the street, sneering at anyone who would dare to come close... ...and Grix noticed a poster stuck on the wall...
"Hey!" Grix shouted... "Look! It's us! On the wanted poster!"
FantasyMeister stared at Grix until he shut up. And then punched him.
"3000... that's quite a bit... but we could get a hell of a lot more."
"I wonder how much of that is because of me..." Said Fm as they walked away...
A large rumbling came from behind them... they turned around...
A large wagon rolled through the town, guards kept to each side. It stopped outside the town's hotel... A man leapt from the wagon and went into the hotel... the guards stayed outside... and guarded the wagon...
"Humm." Said Grix... "That could be that gold reserve that I was talking about..."
FantasyMeister looked at the wagon. "And it looks like it might be there a while... lets have a look tonight."
Grix and FantasyMeister got on their hosses, and rode off towards their camp...
'Sniper is dead, sniper is dead!' your all plonkers.
Grix: "Where's my wallet?"
FM: "Don't tell me you dropped it?"
Grix: "I think I dropped it...."
FM: "........"
FM: "Don't tell me you dropped it?"
Grix: "I think I dropped it...."
FM: "........"
Tucson Tribune: 26/2/1860
BANK ROBBERS STRIKE
In a whirlwind of violence and terror, Tony's Bank of Tucson was today hit by masked bandits on the first robbery of this kind ever seen in this State.
Two masked men burst into the bank at 12:00 noon today, yelling at everyone to keep their hands in the air and cause no trouble, or face the 'herd'.
Dilbert Truffle, one of the local cattle farmers who was making his annual deposit, told us:
'Yeah, dagnabbit, them pesky bandits caught us with our britches round our ankles, there was nothin' we could do. I lost my whole year's crop profit in that darn raid.'
We interviewed Tony Rainbird Sr., the bank's manager, he told us:
"Well, we always put our customer's first, but not when you've got two maniacs with guns waving about in your bank, backed up by an Ant and its colony. We just had to hand over the money and hope they wouldn't start shooting up the place."
Eye witnesses reported that as the two robbers left the bank they could be heard arguing over who was to carry the saddle bags, who was actually leading this raid in the first place, and where they were going next. Then they jumped onto a mass of Ants and shot out of town at a steady walking place. They headed North.
Only one person was hurt in the raid, and that was the local drunk, known as Sniper. He'd apparently got run over by the Ant Colony as they sped out of town. Reverend Clark of the local church told us:
"Sniper was a loyal member of my congregation, and although he used to partake of the blood of Christ more often than most, he will be sorely missed. The Doc wasn't around at the time, so I put the cause of death down on his certificate as 'Death by misantventure'. The burial service is at 09:00am tomorrow."
Sheriff Meka_Dragon informed us: "We got the wallet, we got the Wanted Posters pinned up, we know who these guys are, and we got the posse. We're heading North, and when we catch these bandits, we'll hang 'em high, dagnabbit."
More news, as it happens, in the Tucson Tribune.
BANK ROBBERS STRIKE
In a whirlwind of violence and terror, Tony's Bank of Tucson was today hit by masked bandits on the first robbery of this kind ever seen in this State.
Two masked men burst into the bank at 12:00 noon today, yelling at everyone to keep their hands in the air and cause no trouble, or face the 'herd'.
Dilbert Truffle, one of the local cattle farmers who was making his annual deposit, told us:
'Yeah, dagnabbit, them pesky bandits caught us with our britches round our ankles, there was nothin' we could do. I lost my whole year's crop profit in that darn raid.'
We interviewed Tony Rainbird Sr., the bank's manager, he told us:
"Well, we always put our customer's first, but not when you've got two maniacs with guns waving about in your bank, backed up by an Ant and its colony. We just had to hand over the money and hope they wouldn't start shooting up the place."
Eye witnesses reported that as the two robbers left the bank they could be heard arguing over who was to carry the saddle bags, who was actually leading this raid in the first place, and where they were going next. Then they jumped onto a mass of Ants and shot out of town at a steady walking place. They headed North.
Only one person was hurt in the raid, and that was the local drunk, known as Sniper. He'd apparently got run over by the Ant Colony as they sped out of town. Reverend Clark of the local church told us:
"Sniper was a loyal member of my congregation, and although he used to partake of the blood of Christ more often than most, he will be sorely missed. The Doc wasn't around at the time, so I put the cause of death down on his certificate as 'Death by misantventure'. The burial service is at 09:00am tomorrow."
Sheriff Meka_Dragon informed us: "We got the wallet, we got the Wanted Posters pinned up, we know who these guys are, and we got the posse. We're heading North, and when we catch these bandits, we'll hang 'em high, dagnabbit."
More news, as it happens, in the Tucson Tribune.
You are all gay stupid idiots.
Meanwhile in a bar across the state in walked a shaken man with bulging eyes.
"Any chance of a cold beer" He asked the bartender.
"So what's the rush, hombre?" Replied the bartender.
"I've just come her from a small town down south, I was sitting in a bar drinking a beer, when in walked the biggest Mexican you ever did see.
Anyway, he walked up to the bar and whispered something to the bartender. Whilst his back was turned one of the locals in the bar drew his gun. But the Mexican was too quick, he turned and shot this guy, twice. More men drew their weapons, but none of them could match this Mexican. He had more guns than I've ever seen, and he carried them in a guitar case.
Anyway, I hid under the table as I watched the carnage. Every man in this bar must have had a pop at the Mexican, but he wasn't taking any crap. He didn't have a scratch on him. Everyone else in the bar, other than me, the Mexican and the bartender was dead."
"So the bartender lived! The bartender always lives!" Said the bartender.
"No buddy, he got it worse than anyone else! The Mexican approached the bar, grabbed the bartender around the neck and said two words. Greece Faves, or something like that.
The bartender looked shocked, shook his head. I clearly heard him say, don't call me that, my name's SNIPER. This seemed to upset the Mexican, so he grabbed a pint glass from the bar, and cracked it over his head. SNIPER fell to the floor, so the Mexican shot out the whiskey and tequila bottles from behind him.
He turned to leave picking up his guitar case, lighting a cigar, and throwing his match behind him. The bar went up in flames but I didn't move until that Mexican was well clear."
"That's some story" Said the bartender, sweating, "And I'll give you a pint on the house if you can tell me what he looked like."
"No thanks, I heard he was heading this way."
And with that he left, pushing the saloon door with a *click*
"Any chance of a cold beer" He asked the bartender.
"So what's the rush, hombre?" Replied the bartender.
"I've just come her from a small town down south, I was sitting in a bar drinking a beer, when in walked the biggest Mexican you ever did see.
Anyway, he walked up to the bar and whispered something to the bartender. Whilst his back was turned one of the locals in the bar drew his gun. But the Mexican was too quick, he turned and shot this guy, twice. More men drew their weapons, but none of them could match this Mexican. He had more guns than I've ever seen, and he carried them in a guitar case.
Anyway, I hid under the table as I watched the carnage. Every man in this bar must have had a pop at the Mexican, but he wasn't taking any crap. He didn't have a scratch on him. Everyone else in the bar, other than me, the Mexican and the bartender was dead."
"So the bartender lived! The bartender always lives!" Said the bartender.
"No buddy, he got it worse than anyone else! The Mexican approached the bar, grabbed the bartender around the neck and said two words. Greece Faves, or something like that.
The bartender looked shocked, shook his head. I clearly heard him say, don't call me that, my name's SNIPER. This seemed to upset the Mexican, so he grabbed a pint glass from the bar, and cracked it over his head. SNIPER fell to the floor, so the Mexican shot out the whiskey and tequila bottles from behind him.
He turned to leave picking up his guitar case, lighting a cigar, and throwing his match behind him. The bar went up in flames but I didn't move until that Mexican was well clear."
"That's some story" Said the bartender, sweating, "And I'll give you a pint on the house if you can tell me what he looked like."
"No thanks, I heard he was heading this way."
And with that he left, pushing the saloon door with a *click*
"Thanks!" Ant replied graciously.
Ant smoked on the pipe, tilted his hat in a cool way, and swung the gun around with his hand.
Again, he coughed, the hat fell off his head, and the gun ended up being pointed toward him.
"I can see this going on for the whole story." Ant said. "Actually, does this story have anything to do with Gaming?"
Grix thought about this, "Hmmm... not really. But it probably will do soon."
Just then, SNIPER walked him. Ant turned, and tried the gun thing again. It ended up pointing towards SNIPER.
"Hey!! It worked!!" Ant exclaimed. He was so excited, that he pulled the trigger. Sniper fell to the floor, dead.
Ant smoked on the pipe, tilted his hat in a cool way, and swung the gun around with his hand.
Again, he coughed, the hat fell off his head, and the gun ended up being pointed toward him.
"I can see this going on for the whole story." Ant said. "Actually, does this story have anything to do with Gaming?"
Grix thought about this, "Hmmm... not really. But it probably will do soon."
Just then, SNIPER walked him. Ant turned, and tried the gun thing again. It ended up pointing towards SNIPER.
"Hey!! It worked!!" Ant exclaimed. He was so excited, that he pulled the trigger. Sniper fell to the floor, dead.
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