"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" I innocently inquired to the man who was pointing his signature Single Action Army (that’s a fucking magnum to everyone who doesn’t know him) at me.

"You prick, you are fucking dead. I’m going to fucking blow the shit out of your head!" he yelled. The bastard was a rookie, it was painfully obvious. If he knew what he was doing, I’d already be fucking dead, and he’d be in Guatemala by now.

I sighed, obviously frustrated, and that seemed to make him even angrier. His gun was shaking visibly, whereas I wasn’t moving a damn muscle. "Do you realize how fucked up you will be if you kill me, or even shoot me with that piece of shit gun?" I motioned at his gun. "You know what? Fucking do it, asshole, fucking shoot me. Do it. Fucking do it. Kill me!"

I had a gun on me of course, but at this point, the stupid bastard would probably shoot me out of sheer terror. He knew who I was, and if he put me in the ground, he would be right behind me, only his death would be a lot slower, and sure as hell a lot more painful. After a few more seconds of him just standing there, gun shaking like a pussy, I decided to make my move.

"Look, you little prick, if you shoot me, you’re going to die. And not a quick, nice, easy fucking death, oh no, your death will be much better than that. First, they’ll take a pipe, a big fucking lead pipe, and they’ll break every little fucking bone in your hands and feet. You want that? Then they’ll get a blow torch and start to toast your skin all nice and fucking black…" I was at this point slowly moving toward him, and it was obvious though he held the gun, I was in complete control of this conversation. I continued to talk of the tortures he would get, the absolute pain he would endure. "After the torch, that’s when they get the scissors, and you know exactly what they’re going to take with those…"

Of course, as any man would do, he looked right down at his dick, and that’s when I lunged forward and grabbed the barrel of his magnum, wrenching it from his grasp before he knew what happened. In only a few seconds, it was over, and his gun was pointed straight at his face.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, Vinnie, man, we can work this out. This was all just one big fucking misunderstanding. You know I would never really shoot you, right? Right?" he said, sweat pouring off his forehead.

"You know what you little prick? I think you would have," I replied, moving forward quickly and giving him a swift pistol whip to the face, breaking his nose quite visibly. I checked the chambers and discovered that I did have all six bullets. He was standing up when I looked back, and he had pulled a smaller gun out.

I laughed, "Oh please," and aimed and fired, the first shot hitting his hand, utterly destroying it. It was almost completely gone. He definitely was screaming in agony as I moved in and grabbed the other gun. I checked it quickly, and tossed it on a nearby table. I aimed and shot another shot at his other hand, then two in his legs, one in his dick, one in his stomach, and about twenty seconds later, another shot in his head.

"Fucking prick, who the fuck does he think he’s messing with," I said to no one in particular. I looked at my suit, "Oh that’s just fucking great. Asshole’s blood is all over me."

I pulled out my cell phone and called Charlie. "Hey, Chuck, yeah, it’s Vinnie, I need a cleaning crew over at the diner…Yeah, the bastard actually tried it…yeah…yeah…and bring another of my suits too. Thanks." I hung up, sighed, and went and sat down.

The prick ruined my suit. What a fucking night.