Craig Davison - For A Few Quavers More

Squinting into the sun, the boy with no name silently watched as the 20 gunslingers slowly surrounded him. As the bell in the whitewashed church tower chimed ominously, hands hovered nervously above the holstered guns, Winchester rifles clicked ready to fire, brows beaded with sweat and mouths grew dry, as over head, vultures circled anticipating the feast to come. Still squinting at the thugs looming around him, our hero in a blur of speed reaches for his gun, 20 shots ring out from his 6 gun, and before the smoke has settled he's peddling off into the sunset as fast as he can, after all mums cooking pie and chips tonight.