Average morning in my life, like if u want to hear the rest of the day’s tale
-Me: [After walking into the cantina] I'd like me a splash of whiskey to wash the trail dust off me gullet and keep my singing voice in fettle.
-Bartender: Whiskey's illegal. This is a dry county.
Me: Well, what are they drinking? [referring to the men in the cantina]
-Bartender: Whiskey. They is outlaws.
-Me: [Surprised] Oh! Well, don't let my white duds and pleasant demeanor fool ya. I too have been known to violate the statutes of man, and not a few of the laws of the Almighty.
-Drunk: You ain't no outlaw. And we don't drink with tinhorns.
-Me: Sir, it seems that you are no better a judge of human beings than you are a specimen of one. Just on a brief inventory, I'd say that you could use yourself a shave and a brighter disposition. And lastly, if you don't mind me aspersing your friends, a better class of drinking buddy.
-Drunk: [After standing up from his chair reaching for his revolver holstered on his waist] Your shooting iron work
-Me: [Shoots him suddenly in the head] Seems to do, yes
-Rest of the cantina goers: [pull their guns on me]
-Me: [Shoots all of them dead]
-Last man: [Crawls towards the door]
-Me: It appears that the vitals of this lucky son of a gun remain unpunctured. Sloppy shooting on my part. [opens the door for him]
-Me: Here now, I'll get that for you, partner. A coup de grâce I'll leave to the wolves and gila monsters. dios, amigo.
-Bartender: Whiskey's illegal. This is a dry county.
Me: Well, what are they drinking? [referring to the men in the cantina]
-Bartender: Whiskey. They is outlaws.
-Me: [Surprised] Oh! Well, don't let my white duds and pleasant demeanor fool ya. I too have been known to violate the statutes of man, and not a few of the laws of the Almighty.
-Drunk: You ain't no outlaw. And we don't drink with tinhorns.
-Me: Sir, it seems that you are no better a judge of human beings than you are a specimen of one. Just on a brief inventory, I'd say that you could use yourself a shave and a brighter disposition. And lastly, if you don't mind me aspersing your friends, a better class of drinking buddy.
-Drunk: [After standing up from his chair reaching for his revolver holstered on his waist] Your shooting iron work
-Me: [Shoots him suddenly in the head] Seems to do, yes
-Rest of the cantina goers: [pull their guns on me]
-Me: [Shoots all of them dead]
-Last man: [Crawls towards the door]
-Me: It appears that the vitals of this lucky son of a gun remain unpunctured. Sloppy shooting on my part. [opens the door for him]
-Me: Here now, I'll get that for you, partner. A coup de grâce I'll leave to the wolves and gila monsters. dios, amigo.
