The Sheriff approached the Desperado in the middle of the dusty street at high noon.

Sheriff: Well, Hacienda, are you still plannin’ to kill that fella?

Hacienda: Si. He will die.

The Sheriff shrugged.

A rifle shot rang out from a rooftop to their side.

Hacienda dropped to his knees and then face down in the dirt, dead.

Sheriff: So much for peaceful negotiation.

 

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A posting from Kevin McGill’s The Possible Ks

Canadian Satire, Poetry, Social Justice Commentary & Inspiration

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