Well this was a tight spot. I’d been hunkered down behind that old wagon for almost an hour. Every once in a while a bullet would slice through the air an inch or two from my face. I knew to conserve my ammo. Years of experience.
I’ve been in this position many times in my life. The rules were similar to poker, don’t play tight, play super tight. I intended to do just that. There was one small difference in this situation, this time I had to poop.
I was still trying to play it cool. You don’t make it this far in life playing it any other way. It was a good thing I was sitting down. If I had to run all of a sudden….well, I didn’t want to think about that.
Oh man! Something was going to have to give here! They can’t expect me to sit here all day in this condition. And the heat! This is horrible!
At the end of the day, I called out to them, telling them of my situation. They were pretty cool about it. We all had a good laugh over a few beers after that. Those guys were the greatest.
Too bad I had to shoot them all right after they took their first sip. Maybe I was the greatest after all. You know what I mean, partner?
Post-massacre rant: “Let this be a lesson to all y’all. A man can only take so much of his own goosebumps and chilly skin before things get…well…before things get just plain crazy. I reckon every man has got his limits.”
You use that excuse for everything.