Give it up for old western prose written by myself in 2003.
::Black Coat/Red Coat::
The other night a man walked into our bar
It was cold on those streets and the jukebox was singing that same sad song
He took a whiskey and drank his fill
If I don’t drink up I’ll drown in a gutter, he said
Giving women bedroom eyes and lusty stares
He made his way to the poker table to win or die trying
The cards were cut and he sagged in defeat
Reno don’t make deals or help pay bills, a cute little brunette said
He ran staggering out the door
But stopped in the cold streets when bullet holes suddenly filled his head
Red seeped and seemed to grow as he drowned after that last drink
Reeking of perfume and bourbon and gunshot smoke
he stared at the sky with glassy eyes
What a pitiful un-memorable way to die. | 
