Bad Guys Always Die
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Jul 11 2002
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BAD GUYS ALWAYS DIE All he could see was the sun, reflecting off the gun. Poised for the showdown to go down at one. He shifts uneasily, nearly high noon, he should be here soon. A strong breeze shakes the dry leaves in the trees, a strange rattling. Apprehensively, he sauntered into the bar to get a drink, calm his nerves; there was another 50 minutes to wait. He pulled out his snout pouch and rolled a thin one. Perspiring heavily and showing all possible signs of repressed distress; he tipped his hat to the bar maid and said 'Usual'. He went out back, 40 minutes left, as the red infernious sun burned into the back of his neck, he started. He drew his weapons, fired, at six cans, make sure he's not rusty, but how could he be? He leaned on the wall and slid slowly to the ground. He looked...


