So… I found this thing on my computer. It was dated 02/02/2013.
It’s.. err… It’s something.
I haven’t edited it cause I wanted you guys to feel the full effect of my five-years-ago awesomeness.
I will leave the title it had as well… just… lol. No judging.
Jack McLaren, or One-Armed Jack as they called him, stared under the brim of his hat, across the quiet dusty street. He stared past the rows of shops either side him and the people hiding inside them. The red dirty road he stood on wavered in the heat that beat down upon him.
Him and One-legged Joe.
This was not the first time they had met, in fact they had been brothers, once upon a time, but that was more than a life time ago. Now he was going to make Joe pay.
Joe stood in front of the town Saloon. They had just exited the double-hinged doors in a tumble of fists and boots and now they stood awaiting the clock time chime. Waiting for the moment where they could settle this, once and for all.
‘It’s over Jacky-boy,’ said Joe. ‘Everyone knows it is me that has the quickest guns in the west.’
One-Armed Jack spat on the ground. A small dust cloud lift up as the gooey spittle hit the dirt. ‘I don’t think so Joe. Although, it’s lucky for you, that you took my arm all those years ago, or else I woulda beaten ya in that there scuffle.’
Their hands hovered over their holsters. They glared at each other, stares menacing enough to scare the scales right off a Rattlesnake. That, added to their overall pig-filthy, dog-hairy, moderately toothless, and leather bound appearance, made them both very threatening indeed. The town’s people had hidden from their view the moment One-legged Joe rolled into to town that morning.
‘Maybe if you hadn’t taken me leg, I could have left ya with the arm, Jacky-boy,’ growled Joe past a short cigar that he held in his yellow teeth. It hung tattered from his mouth and tobacco spilt from it as he spoke. He wavered on his one leg.
‘Stop calling me Jacky-boy. Only me brother can call me Jacky-boy and he is dead, dead to me anyhows,’ Jack snarled.
Joe twisted his face up into an inhuman scowl.
‘Maybe if you hadn’t taken me wife, I wouldn’t have had to take your leg,’ Jack spat.
‘Well maybe if you hadn’t taken me horse, I wouldn’t have had to take your wife,’ Joe added. ‘Frankly, the horse was more useful.’
‘I know! Why do you think I took the damn thing!’ Jack said and widened his stance, ‘I coulda taken my wife back, actually it woulda been easier than trying to get the damn horse!’ He twitched the only five fingers he had, above the gun on his left hip. He squinted at the man in front of him that he used to call brother. Joe stood with his arms a little out to the sides, balancing him on his only leg.
The clock clicked around half way. Peoples’ heads peered out of windows and from behind doors.
They watched as the hand made its way up. Eyes on the clock. Eyes on each other. Eyes on the clock.
And that’s fucking it! Fuck you, past Amberley! What the fuck happened. LMFAO
Anyone wanna finish this weirdo, comedy, western, thing?