42

The wind whips down the dusty streets. The ringing is still filling my ears but I do not feel anything so his bullet must have missed me. But I know I fired and now he is standing there, staring at me. And then he falls. He missed and now he is dead. Why? Why did I have to kill another...

My shoulders slump forward, I feel a weight on them. My gun is heavy in my hand as I walk toward him. As the ringing in my ears subsides I can hear the clapping and cheering, there is always a crowd there when I kill someone. I look down at him now, so young, the blood pooling under his curly blond hair, his eyes glazed over and shock written in his expression. Also innocence. As if he was a child playing with a negligent father's gun. And this is the price for being alive. I turn and walk back to the bar, people patting my back and smiling like I am a hero. They are proud of me. I go to my usual seat as the bartender shouts out that drinks are on the house. The cheers become louder. I am the superstar in this town, I have 41 kills. And I see all their faces. It used to be rare, these boys wanting to fight me. Now it's a way to test their metal, a stupid dare to some. They think it's all about speed and yes, they are fast. I never get off the first shot. But mine never miss. 41 kills. 41 mothers to tell that their babies are dead. 41 lives gone. 41 faces. Also 41 free drinks. 41 free tumbles with the town whore. I can see her in the crowd looking at me now. I can smell her desire. She will fondle my gun and caress the bullets, she gets off on a kill. One day it will be someone else. I will be the one lying out in that dusty street and a new killer will be sitting on my bar stool, drinking my free beer, attracting the whore and listening to the cheers for him. I wonder how long he will last. Will he make it to 41? Will I make it past 41? It won't take long to find out, I hear the dull clank of heavy boots on the floor behind me, I can smell the new leather of his holster, I can feel his cocky smirk on the back of my neck, the way a dog senses danger. But I'm not worried. He's just another who thinks it's all about speed, who thinks that shooting a target is the same as shooting a person. He has not looked into my eyes yet. Dead eyes that hold no fear. So he will call me out and I will turn and look into his eyes and say what I have told 41 before him. GO HOME BOY BEFORE YOU GET HURT.

But he will laugh at me and call me a chicken and I will go out into those dusty streets with him and kill him. I have not even finished my 41st free beer yet....

42, 42 free beers. The whore will have to give me a double tonight.

This is story reminds me of when I was young because I was a big kid and I was good at fighting people always wanted to fight me sadly I did not get the free drinks and whore's but you can not win them all