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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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Ignore that, I believe that the internal organs have been revived and reunited with Grix.
Grix Thraves wrote:
> Sniper got up... and had a sudden heart attack at the thought of his
> death, and died.
Grix finds that his heart, brain and lungs run away, they run along a path happily until ant's troops come along....
> Sniper got up... and had a sudden heart attack at the thought of his
> death, and died.
Grix finds that his heart, brain and lungs run away, they run along a path happily until ant's troops come along....
During the pursuit, the snowboarder spots a distant mountain covered in snow (He had extremely good eye sight). He left his firends in the posse to go after FM, it wasn`t his fight anyway. The snowboarder left to play in the snow.
Sniper got up... and had a sudden heart attack at the thought of his death, and died.
At first the posse tried to use the snowboard, but that obviously failed, so they looked around for something new to use. AHA! There it was, the perfect pursuit vehicle, a colony of ants was moving in FM`s direction at high speed, so the posse jumped aboard and followed...
FM had forgotten his Stetson hat, obviously, and had turned his hoss around in a mid-air U-turn and come back for it.
But when he saw Grix, the Ant Colony and the snowboarder posse, he reared his hoss to a halt, did a nifty 3-point turn in a no parking zone, and sped off in the other direction.
The posse followed.......
But when he saw Grix, the Ant Colony and the snowboarder posse, he reared his hoss to a halt, did a nifty 3-point turn in a no parking zone, and sped off in the other direction.
The posse followed.......
oops, FM again, who was just leaving town.
CPR proves a success, and the snowboarder pulls out a bandage, (kept in reserve for accident during snowboarding) and wraps it around the wound. It turns out to be only a small cut to the little finger, so all is well.... Until they notice FM again.
FM stared at the destruction he had wrought in the town of SR. It was quite devastating.
Ant was squished; PB shot, fallen and drowned (he made a mental note to put three notches in his barrel for that one), Sniper shot, and Grix......well Grix was just Grix wasn't he?
FM swaggered over to his hoss, climbed up into the saddle, flicked a switch, and the hoss's legs retracted as it gained altitude and hovered out of town.
He had fights to fight, wrongs to right, but not tonight.
Ant was squished; PB shot, fallen and drowned (he made a mental note to put three notches in his barrel for that one), Sniper shot, and Grix......well Grix was just Grix wasn't he?
FM swaggered over to his hoss, climbed up into the saddle, flicked a switch, and the hoss's legs retracted as it gained altitude and hovered out of town.
He had fights to fight, wrongs to right, but not tonight.
"All you do is hit the chest, and hope you don`t hit the wound!" Starts doing 15:2 chest compressions and breaths. The Ant colony stare accross wondering what the hell a guy with a snowboard is doing to Grix...
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