That’s right. You heard me, varmint. I’ve had my eye on you ever since you first set foot in this here lawless town. You with your slick horse and your rhinestone belt buckle and, what are those, live tarantulas in the heels of your boot? That’s a pretty big show you’re making out of yourself riding in here like that. You really think that you got the cajones to take me down?

Well, I’m here to say, yep, you probably could take me out easily. No foolin’, if you’re sticking around, then I am so outta here. Have fun!

I ain’t being falsely modest or trying to pull the wool over your eyes or nothing like that. I can just genuinely tell that this town is just not gonna cut it for the both of us—there just ain’t enough of it to go around. There’s one saloon and only half a brothel, and we can only rob the local credit union once every six months with how slowly that interest accumulates. You think that’s enough for two desperados? No, it most certainly is not.

Plus, you are definitely the more capable gunslinger of the two of us. As you were riding up, I saw you put a bullet ’tween the eyes of that prairie dog from a hundred paces away. And me, well, this ain’t really a pistol at all, just an old piece of dry cactus I painted silver. I may be an ace at arts and crafts, but a crack shot I am not.

Oh no, please don’t hurt me!

Sorry, you moved a little too swiftly, and I thought you were gonna flick my ear or something. Okay, you seem pretty tough. But before I pack my saddlebag and go, ask yourself, are you really ready for the stuff this town is gonna throw at you?

I’ve been here a long time before you showed up, and I’ve seen a lot of strange things in all them years. There was that one feller that sold fake medicine made out of poop; there was that rattlesnake that could speak Portuguese; there was that string of mysterious UFO sightings that started right after we started mixing our sarsaparilla with peyote. And to this day, we still have no idea who gunned down ol’ Suicide Joe—never even found a suspect.

You think you can handle all that on your own? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you can! Hell, that nonsense is probably small, old Western potatoes compared to what you’re used to, cowboy. I’ll bet you’ve even seen a real actual cow before. All we get around here are armadillos with spots painted on the sides. They’re fine, but their milk is terrible.

So, yeah, I guess this is your town now. I’ll see myself out. I may stop off at the half-brothel quick on the way out, but for now, this is adios. Yeehaw!—oops, I mean, excuse me, sir. I’ll try to keep the noise to a minimum from here on out.