black bart

He didn't notice me right away, but my movement must have caught his eye as I tried to slink away backwards around the side of the general store.

He trained them six-shooters right between my eyes. I froze.

Then he lowered the guns and said, "Dance."

"But there's n-n-no music..." I stammered.

He shot the ground around my feet, and despite my fear, I thought, this guy has terrible aim! But, lucky for me, the quaking in my boots segued nicely into a gentle two-step.

Everyone around laughed at me and that seemed to satisfy black bart, as he would come to be known. Black Bart, Ridiculer of Sneaky Yellow Photographers.

I lowered my camera in shame and rode out of town in the opposite direction of the sunset. Because, as we all know, riding into the sunset is strictly reserved for the hero.