Beer and Loathing in the Wild West

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium
Submission for The Imaginarium house.

Submitted: August 11, 2017

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Submitted: August 11, 2017

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Guber misspelt his own name whilst defacing the table with his knife.

"Y'ain't too bright, are ya?" Faust commented.

Guber spat a viscous brown stream of tobacco juice onto the hardwood floor of the saloon. "What'd you say to me?"

"Aw, you heard me." Faust spat a longer stream of tobacco juice onto the hardwood floor.

"Dammit, y'all!" hollered the barman. "You'uns gonna have to clean that up, now, hear?"

Faust arose with purpose, whilst Guber arose with the presumption of purpose.

"I don't think so, liquor-boy," said Faust, salaciously fondling his gun handle.

Just then the random, wandering gun-slinger the town's folk had been praying for arrived, striding ardently through the swinging, stereotypical saloon doors. "Do you feel fortuitous? Well? Do ya, reprobate?" The lone gun-slinger drew his side-iron and spun it around on his finger as if to impress them into submission.

Faust drew on him and fired.

With the gun-slinger dispatched, Faust glowered at the barman and spat on the floor again before sitting back down. He took out his caseknife, scratched out Guber's graffiti, and commenced defacing the saloon's chattels, proper: with correct spellin and punc-tuation.


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