A Run-in with the Lewis Brothers
The infamous pearl-handled revolver of Jimmy Lewis fires a bullet headed right towards my head. The gun has pin-point accuracy, yet the bullet only grazes my right earlobe. You see, Jimmy's missing his left eye, and as everybody knows, that's ol' Jim's shootin' eye. You might say I had somethin' to do with that.
The pistols of his two compadres let loose two bullets of their own. I don't have to worry about them, though. Those two are just a couple of drunks that couldn't shoot a bear two feet in front of 'em. They'd probably end up shootin' each other, or one of their toes off. As a matter of fact, Jesse (the fat one who always rides on Jimmy's left) is missing two toes on foot. And James, well, let's just say the toes he got ain't too pretty. I seem to recall a bar fight in Houston. I was in Houston once.
Jesse just shot James right in the ass.
By golly! James shot Jesse's pinky off.
BANG. BANG. THUD.
Jimmy had enough. He done popped the two of 'em right between the eyes. Ah, you don't have to feel sorry for those two. Only person who'll miss 'em is the bartender back in town. I hear those two account for 32% of the liquor consumption in the great state of New Mexico. That's not even counting what those two cook up in their still.
Jimmy's their brother and he did away with 'em mighty quick.
Now I wonder why their parents would name two of their sons James?
I reckon Ma and Pa did their own bit of drinkin' themselves.
Probably just plain forgot about 'em. Had so many kids they must not've been able to keep track.
After all, they were from West Virginia.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Look at me just blabberin' on. Y'all are still wonderin' why this friendly feller's chasin' me in the first place.
I got time. Jimmy ran out of bullets. It'll take him a while to reload, if he doesn't fall off his horse first.
I was trottin' along through El Paso one time, mindin' my own affairs, tippin' my hat to the pretty little ladies. You know, there was this blonde I ran into later and we. Anyway, someone wasn't payin' attention to where he was goin' and he done bumped his fat horse right into mine, clear knockin' my hat to the dirt.
I said to the man, "Seems you bumped into me, sir, and knocked my hat to the ground."
He glares back at me and says, "I reckon I did." Then the overgrown bastard hocks up a lugee and spits right on my hat. Now I tell you now, I am a peaceful man, a law abider, a down right good guy. But when a man goes and disrespects my hat, I am forced to retaliate.
I says to him, "I don't think you know who you're messin' with."
He says, "Oh yeah, you wanna settle this man to man, pistol to pistol?"
I say, "Fightin' ain't my style."
And guess what. He has the nerve to say, "What's the matter? You yeller?" Now that's just uncalled for.
"Only thing yeller here is your teeth," I say sternly. "Only thing yellower than your teeth is your mama's."
"Hehe, that is true. Mama sure does have yellow teeth," his brother Jeb says with a chuckle. Jimmy goes and shoots him dead. He sure ain't no family man.
"Let's settle this high noon tomorrow," he says.
"Hey brother, how you gon' know when it's noon. You can't read and you sure as hell can't count past four." BANG. Lights out for Jerry.
"I'm lookin' forward to it," and with that, I pick up my hat which he so rudely befouled and walk into the saloon.
The saloon smells like cigars, sweat, and just stank slobs who never bather. Shame on them. I personally bather regularly. Brush me teeth too. They call me Whitey Sweetness 'cause my teeth are white and the ladies say I smell so sweet. Someone's playin' the piani, a guy's on the harmonica, and a drunkard is strummin' the banjo. I play a little banjo myself. They call me Quick Wrist Randall ' cause I play like a pro, and my gun-slingin' is fast as lightning. Not that I ever do any gun-slinging.
"What'll it be partner?" the bartender asks me.
"I'll take a shot of brandy and a Shirley Temple." I wonder where in the world they came up with that name?
"So where ya from?" he asks me.
"Here and there," I answer coolly.
"Where ya headed?"
"Somewhere where I can start a family," I say.
"El Paso's a nice little town to do so."
"Is that so?"
I shoot my brandy, pick up my drink, and walk around the place, surveying the area for a good game of poker. One guys loosin' big wife won't be , a Royal guys got an ace up his sleeve. I myself never cheat. Not one to gamble much , I've found my challenge. A clean-cut, shiny-booted, raging alcoholic with a big wad of cash.
"Mind if I play a few hands?" I ask.
"Be my guest," he says, shuffling the cards smoothly. I take a seat and kept eye contact with him. He glares back.
"Five card, no wild, no dump," he says. "The bet's one thousand dollars."
"Deal the cards," I say. He flips a card to me, drops one to himself, and deals out the rest. Lucky for me, I had run into a very kind bank employee who decided to just give me four thousand dollars when I was just tryin' to make a simple deposit in New Orleans. Nice guy.
"I'll raise you one hundred," he says. He's bluffing.
"I'll see your hundred, and raise you two hundred."
"I'll see your two hundred, and raise you a thousand." Okay, maybe he's not bluffing, yet I never fold. That's why I'm known as Cool Hand it was Cool Hand , couldn't have , yeah, I remember. It was Cool Hand Mark.
"I'll see and call."
"Full house. Aces over Queens."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" I laugh boastfully. "It seems you have been beaten. Six aces!" I put my cards on the table triumphantly and gather the money.
"Wait a minute, you cheated!"
"You callin' me a liar?"
"Okay, I admit it. I." SPLASH! I hurl my drink into his face, grab the money, and run out. No, rewind. That's what I would have done had I cheated. I went to drink, but the cup is just so slippery that it forced a forward motion of my arm, thus splashing the drink into my competitor's face. Then, I quickly gathered the money so it would not get wet. And seeing as I won fair and square, I took my money and walked out. See, it wasn't my fault. It was science.
I went to get a room for the night at the fanciest inn in town. It was called the Ritz. Funny name. For some reason, they thought I was some sort of celebrity and gave me the Presidential Suite. They said Davy Crockett himself stayed there, who, in my opinion, is the greatest president our country ever had. The man who gave me the room kept calling me Jesse James. The last I heard, he was dead (or ran off and changed his name, but that's beside the point). The room was nice. Had a very comfortable bed. It didn't smell too bad neither. It had its very own bathtub. I reckon it was the best room in town. Someone from downstairs kept sending up these girls, and I kept sending away after an hour or two. One after another, they'd come up and each one I'd send back. To think that the manager believed I wished for them.
I wasn't yet ready for sleep, so I went down to the bar where there was some fun-filled, fully clothed dancing. I had some drinks, had some fun, and laughed with some people I met. Then, I noticed that the jerk who spit on my hat was in the bar, and most likely staying in the hotel. Jimmy Lewis it was, with his brothers James and Jesse. As I said, I'm a peaceful man, and I like to resolve disputes without violence. However, I did not like this man, so I had a plan on how to avoid confrontation, but put him in his place.
I asked the manager what room he was stayin' in and decided to pay him a little visit. To my surprise, the door was unlocked.I walked in and took a look around. His hat as there, some money, a jug of moonshine, and a few rags I reckon he called clothes. I threw those out the window. I was about to treat myself to a sip of Lewis' finest moonshine when the door opened and Jimmy entered followed by James and Jesse. They had obviously been drinkin'.
"What're you doin' in here?" Jimmy managed to get out.
"I'm here to share a drink with my brothers!" I said in the most redneck of an accent I could.
"Johnny? Johnny, is that you?" Jimmy asked.
"Yeah!" Jimmy cocks his pistol. "I mean, no! It's Charles!"
"Cleatus?" Jimmy asks.
"Yeah, it's Cleatus!" I say.
"Cleatus, you ol' sonofabitch, how you doin?"
"Be doin' better once I get me some of this here liquor!"
"Well open it up!" Jimmy exclaims, and James and Jesse laugh heartily and drunkenly (basically like an idiot). They drank for hours. They finished the jug in about four minutes so I sent for more. They got so drunk they started quacking like ducks. They got so drunk they told me the were all in love with their cousin (actually, that's not so unbelievable, seeing as they're from West Virginia). They got so drunk they put on dresses I had in my room. I guess those girls must have left them was my cue to exit. I went to bed. Too much fun for me.
The rooster crowed and I was up. I dressed myself, brushed my teeth, and headed for the door. I paid for the room, readied my horse, and ate a bit of breakfast. I was ready to leave when I heard a loud, angry yell. I didn't want to stick around to find out. I trotted off down the street.
"There he is!" I heard a man call. I turned around to see three men in dresses, galloping after me. I set off at full speed on my horse and I believe you know what happens from there. My, those Lewis brothers sure get riled up over the littlest darn things. If I woke up in a dress, I'd have a good chuckle. Then again, I'd probably be waking up next to girl I the night before.
Jimmy's loaded again. My he's got some horrible aim. Only reason he's come close is 'cause of that gun he's got. I wish I had me a gun like that. I'd be the deadest shot in all the West and Mexico. Not that I've ever shot a gun before.
Hehe. He's wearin' a dress.
Now I know y'all know my dilemma, but I do not recall being properly introduced. People call me a lot of things. Calamity Jack, Quick-draw McGraw, Iron Fists, Hot those who know me best call me Willy Sunshine. If you ever see a Wanted poster for Willy Sunshine, it ain't first name's William. Some people call me Billy the Kid, but I prefer Willy. Never met my birth parents. They died before I was old enough to remember. As I hear it, some Injuns came and scalped 'em along with our pet gerbil, but they spared me. They took me into live with them. They called me Walking Sunshine because I always had a smile on my face and I walked pretty good too. Told someone that was my name once, and she mistakened Walking for Willy, and the name stuck. Of course, she could have been talking about something else.
The bullet hits the dirt ten feet to my right. "Nice try!" I yell back. "You're getting closer!"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Now y'all must be wonderin' where I'm headin'. I have been ridin' for al long time and y'all must think I don't know where I'm goin'. For those of you who doubt in me, I do have a place I'm goin'. I was headin' for the railroad station before this whole chase started, so I'm tryin' to catch a train. It's the 10 o'clock to Phoenix. I'm on my way to Arizona 'cause I want to become a baker. Also heard from a friend that there was some easy money to be made. Completely legitimate of course.
Oh yeah, my horse's name is Silver. Got her when I used to be a Ranger. I worked alone most of the time.
That's my train.
That's my annoying pursuer.
That's my gun.
Down goes Jimmy.
"My leg! My leg!" he cries. I never aim to kill.
CHUGACHUGA. CHUGACHUGA. TOOT. TOOT.
Alright, I see my train. I'll finally be on my way to Phoenix. I hear it's a very pretty town. I hear the air is clean, the water's just a bit brown, and the bank's safe is full. Don't worry, it's one of those new super-safe one's with a heavy-duty lock. No one could break into it, but I love a challenge.
That's my ride. I'll be on my way to Phoenix, Arizona to open up my barbershop. I leap onto the train, kick open the door, and take my seat right next to a lovely brunette.