High Noon Showdown (or, The Painter Comes to Town)

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High Noon Showdown (or, The Painter Comes to Town)

Status: Finished

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High Noon Showdown (or, The Painter Comes to Town) High Noon Showdown (or, The Painter Comes to Town)

Short Story by: Hamp

Genre: Westerns

Houses:

Short Story by: Hamp

Details

Genre: Westerns

Houses:

Summary

A Western saga

Summary

A Western saga

Content

Submitted: February 19, 2007

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 19, 2007

A A A

A A A


 

He stepped into the street,

The sun reflected the star,

He left the office door, slightly ajar.

He settled the colts, down around his hips.


A dangerous man,

Didn’t take any lip.

His deputy told him, he was down the street.

A deadly foe, he had to meet.

The man had jested, about the marshal’s touch,

He would jest no longer,

he’d run out of luck.


His hat brim shaded, his eagle eyes.

As the noon day sun,

Attacked the cloudless skies.

He sauntered o’er, to the “Shortstick” Saloon.


Glanced at his watch,

A little past noon.

Stepping inside, he saw his foe.

Leaning against the bar,

So the story goes.


His baritone voice, was lined with death.

“So you’re Len the Painter,

Would be my guess.”

The other spun around, on a dime.


His clothes of white sparkled,

With a paint stain shine.


Eagle eyes locked, foreheads showed damp.

Said, “I guess you’d be,

Marshal Hamp.

“You got that right, This is you’re last straw!

Put down that brush,

It’s time to draw!!!


A four inch brush, slid to the bar,

Along side some milk,

Sitting in a jar.


Hamp freed the straps, that secured his colts.

You been spreading rumors,

That gets my goat!!


“I don’t know, don’t want your goat,

They’re too much like sheep,

Is my vote.


I don’t know about rumors, don’t care for such,

But it’s time you lost,

Your “Midas” touch.”


“Watch your tone! You’re talking to a plumbing man!

And in our shadows,

You painters can’t stand!”

Len’s shoulders rolled forward, to a gunfighter’s stance.

This plumbing marshal,

Didn’t have a chance!



“You been painting houses, but don’t see no red.

In a few seconds, there’ll be plenty,

For soon, you’ll be dead.”

Len snarled his lips, to a deadly curl,

“When this is all over,

I’m takin’ your girl.



Not much of a man, with all your hype,

Cause all you get to screw,

Is a joint of pipe!”

Hamp had enough, Len got to his craw.

“Get at it, painting man!!!

It’s time to draw!!!


Hands flashed forward! Thunder crushed the room!

Chapter two of this tale,

Will be coming real soon.









© Copyright 2016 Hamp. All rights reserved.

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