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Bad Guys Always Die

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Introduction

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 at the sandy ground, the wooden buildings, watched the horse-drawn carriages roll by. He almost dosed off, C&A the ultimate knockout, but he managed to rouse himself. There was only about two minutes left, he's probably out front. He goes back through the hall, split the throng. No more need to stall, no one spoke to him, he's an outlaw. His head down he stepped out into the sun, took a deep breath and looked into it, drawing energy. Then he heard the sound of hooves; sounded like a thousand wolves. ...read more.

Middle

The room they were now in was like a throne room and many small chairs surrounded the "throne". Children, boys but mainly girls occupied these chairs. About ten to fourteen in age. R.B had a brief flash back, and stared coldly into the doctor's eyes. The doctor eyed him curiously, his small beady eyes resting on copious bags of skin. He got up with great difficulty knocking over his teacakes. He snorted at the paper-like china now shattered on the floor. He patted a girl, muttering his cumbersomely flaccid hand made a squelching sound on contact. Breathing heavily he slithered gauchely forwards. Finally they came nose to nose and the doctor mumbled something into R.B's ear. Looked at R.B and smiled a crooked smile. R.B smiled back leaned forward and bit the doctor's nose. He felt the warm blood treacle into his mouth. He shook his head to and fro vigorously until the end of the doctor's nose came off and the pallid bone gleamed at R.B. amidst a rain of profanities the doctor uttered, 'insane...take...dungeon' R.B woke up feeling very proud of himself. Slim was quiet a while then started gloating, 'spy what I've pilfered,' he whispered, R.B scoffed internally at his poor attempt at using big word, and half heatedly rolled over. Then his jade-green eyes glowed intensely. Slim had pulled something from his pants. Two pistols. He also had a plan. ...read more.

Conclusion

'You're out numbered give it up varmints!' R.B quickly grabbed the doctor's arms and broke them. The shotgun clattered to the floor and went off. This bang riled the sheriffs and deputies, and amidst a chorus of 'yee-haws', they blindly opened fire. R.B held the doctor close, and rasped, 'being under two people is two too many for me y'hear? Now bleed!' fragments of the doctors brain flew about, with a close range yank on the trigger of a .45. He dragged the dead heavy body towards the window. The chronic starting to affect his judgement. He jumped, sort of, from the window twisted quickly and landed on what can only be described as Swiss human. He scrambled unsteadily to his feet and stumbled towards a sheriff horse. He looked back at the hole where the window was and saw the chronic smoke come billowing out. He pulled a 12 gauge from the side of the horse, and whilst wondering whether stained glass was expensive, he started. As to his amusement the authorities came tumbling out under the influence of chronic and R.B just made sure they didn't hit the ground alive. He blew on his gun, giggled like a schoolgirl. Mounted and spurred his new horse into action and was pleased. Rosebud rode towards the setting sun. Life was always more fun being on the run, Got his gold, got his gun. Ever since his life as an outlaw had begun Got his shotgun by his side Got his ho' and got his ride He'll ride 'till there 'aint no place to hide. He's sad because the bad guys always die. ...read more.

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