Cheater, Cheater, People Eater

“Two penny's for a shot of whisky? Outrageous,” I shouted.

“You had four shots at a half penny each, Chester,” Andy said.

“Oh, right. How about this, I’ll give you a nickel, you’ll give me change,” I slurred, then hiccuped. My hands were tremulous from too much to drink, but somehow I still managed to take a shiny new nickel out of my pocket.

Andy gave me three penny's and I got up to leave. I tripped and dropped my change on the floor.

I bent down to pick it up and someone put their large boot on my hand.

I tried to pull my hand out, but couldn’t. After he finally lifted his boot, it was only too kick me over. The whole bar started laughing.

I pushed myself up and tried to shove him back, but my hand hit the air as he slowly moved out of my way. I’ve never been this drunk before, but I was celebrating the find of a huge gold nugget.

I scowled at him and told him he was nothing.

“Whoa, buddy. I was just kidding,” he said and smirked. Then he patted me on the shoulder.

It was Bluto, the town thug.

I told him he was making a mistake, and he better get his filthy hands off me!

“Is that so, buster?” Bluto asked, jammed his finger between my ribs and smirked. I wish I’d been sober, I would have loved to knock that smug smile right off his ugly mug.

“My name’s Chester, you rapscallion,” I slurred, then hiccuped. I took a gulp of someone else’s beer, not fully aware of what I was doing.

“Hey,” the person whined. I was now in a drunken frenzy and the floor was spinning.

“Here’s a penny, sir. You can… hiccup… order more booze, on me,” I said.

“Rapscallion, that’s a big word for a drunken old fool,” Bluto said.

“It is?” I asked, sounding more sarcastic than I meant to. My lunch and dinner were both coming up on me.

“How about a game of cards tomorrow when you’re sober. Then we’ll see if you’re still a smart mouth,” Bluto said.

“Sure thing,” I said and winked.

All the contents of my stomach were then emptied onto Bluto’s bright blue Dungaree's.

Bluto drew his Colt, then cocked the hammer of his pistol, pointing it squarely between my eyes.

“My wife just cleaned these this morning, you jackass,” Bluto said.

The bar was silent. I hiccuped.

“That all you got to say, boy?” Bluto said.

The bartender pulled out his Flintlock and pointed it at Bluto.

“Save any shooting’ for a duel, Bluto. You know the rules,” the bartender said and pointed his rifle to a sign at the door.

Bluto turned and read the sign that said, “Take your rootin’ tootin’ shootin’ outside for the fair fight of duel. If you make Andy clean up guts, blood and brains from the floor, his lead in your head will be the next thing to cause gore. Have a nice day and enjoy your stay. Thank you, management.”

“Thanks, Andy. Wouldn’t want to break your rules,” Bluto said to the bartender.

“Yah.. hiccup, thanks Andy,” I said and wobbled around the floor.

“And I’ll see you in an hour for our duel, jerk,” Bluto said, smirked again and patted me on the shoulder with his free hand before spinning his pistol in a circle around his finger before holstering it. He’s lucky I was drunk or I would have knocked his jaw right off.

“Winner gets a free shot of cheap whisky. Now I don’t want to see either of you in here again until after the duel, you reckon,” Andy said, then cocked the hammer on his Flintlock.

Bluto nodded his head and walked outside.

All I could do was wink at Andy. I was so drunk, if I nodded my head like Bluto I would have fallen over again.

I staggered out the batwing doors in a stupor.

I slowly exited the bar. Bluto was waiting for me right outside.

“Hey Chester,” he said. I barely turned around and he socked me in the face. It left a black and blue shiner on my right eye.

“That’s for throwing up on my overalls,” he said before laughing with that smug grin again. Then he walked off.

I barely managed to stumble my way home, and fell asleep on my porch.

My horse licked me awake an hour later.

“Thanks for following me home, Buddy,” I said and grimaced as I pushed his face away. Buddy, my horse, was my best friend, but his breath always smelled of carrots, hay and rot.

“What time is it,” I asked a passer by, feeling more sober now than I had before my porch nap.

The man took out a large, gaudy and ostentatious pocket watch covered in small diamonds and lined with gold and silver.

“One o’ four,” the man said.

“Shoot, four minutes late already. Don’t want Andy or Bluto the Bastard thinking I’m a coward,” I said.

I poured a bucket of water on my face, drank a cup of three day old coffee, got on top of Buddy, and rode to the bar.

“You’re late. We thought you weren’t coming,” Bluto said and chuckled.

“Let’s get this over with. I got people to see and drinking to do,” I said.

Andy was outside his bar watching us, leaning on his rifle like a cane.

“You know the rules. Both of your backs have to be turned, and they’re not to be unturned until the count of three,” Andy said.

“Gotcha,” Bluto said. I just nodded.

We turned our backs on each other and took ten paces forward.

“One, two,” Andy started to count. My trigger finger was getting itchy and my hand was already on my shooting iron.

“Th…” before Andy could finish the number, I turned and fired. Bluto had barely started to turn around and the lead from my bullet had blown off his jaw.

I half expected applause, especially from the townswomen whom he slapped around and mistreated, but there was nothing but silence.

“Chester is a cheater,” an old woman shouted and pointed her finger at me.

“I didn’t cheat. I waited until three,” I said.

There was a loud roar of boos coming from the crowd who’d gathered to watch.

“Cheater, cheater,” the crowd started yelling.

“Ok, everyone, quit your yapping,” Andy said and pointed his rifle at the crowd. They went silent.

“Let’s give Chester here another chance. I’ll duel him,” Andy said.

“Thanks Andy. I don’t want to duel you, though. You’re my friend,” I said.

The crowd started booing again.

“Doesn’t look like you have much of a choice,” Andy said and half smiled.

Andy put his rifle down and walked over to me.

We stared intensely into each others eyes, then turned our backs to each other. We took ten paces, Andy counted to three, we turned around and shot.

Andy’s gun clicked, his chamber was empty.

Mine wasn’t. Andy was hit in the chest with my bullet. He fell to his knees and died.

“I definitely waited until three this time,” I said.

“His gun was empty, you bastard,” someone shouted.

“You shouldn’t have fired,” another person shouted.

“You killed the bartender, you ass,” someone else shouted.

“I challenge you all to a duel,” I said.

The crowd grew quiet as Sheriff Johnson sauntered over to me.

“You can’t duel them if I hang you, first,” Sheriff Johnson said.

“For what crime?” I asked.

“Crime of murder,” the Sheriff said.

“It was a duel,” I retorted.

“Not if you cheated,” Sheriff Johnson said.

“But I didn’t,” I said.

“I got witnesses that said you did,” Sheriff Johnson said.

“Do I get a trial?” I asked.

“Not in this county. I’m the only judge here. I say you’re guilty and sentence you to hang,” Sheriff Johnson said.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir,” I said.

“You can’t tell me what…” Sheriff Johnson started to say and I pointed my pistol at him.

“Bluto was a bully, and I beat Andy fair and square. If you try and hang me for murder, a crime I did not commit, I will defend my life,” I said.

“Chester, you little worm. You cheated and you know it. Cheating is murder,” Sheriff Johnson said and pulled his gun. I shot the pistol out of his hand.

“Want to try that again?” I said.

“I sure do,” Sheriff Johnson said. The Sheriff pulled out another pistol and took aim.

I shot him. I was trying to shoot the gun out of his hand again, but I shot his chest this time.

“Oh, god,” I said.

“He shot the Sheriff,” someone shouted.

“But I didn’t shoot no deputy,” I said.

The crowd started booing.

They started throwing things. Sticks, stones, rocks and anything they could find.

One man pulled out a gun and started firing. I shot him.

After he fell over, the crowd closed in on me.

I started shooting rapid fire until the crowd backed away. I grabbed the sheriffs guns, reloaded my guns, and ran back inside the bar.

“After him,” someone shouted.

I ran to the back of the bar and down a hallway that Andy had built that lead to a secret gambling room for his big spenders. I’d only ever got to play cards here once.

The hallway was decorated with cowboy paintings, and they were so realistic I imagined the cowboys jumping out of the paintings to grab me and call me a cheater, too.

I heard the voices of the mob echoing down the hallway.

I ran to the back of the gambling room and jumped out of the window. I closed the window behind me so they’d think I was hiding and stay in the gambling room to search for me when they got their.

“C’mon out, Chester the Cheater,” I heard someone shout.

I jammed a stick into the window so they couldn’t open it from the inside of the gambling hall. I quickly ran to the front of the bar, went inside, grabbed a bottle of expensive booze to enjoy later, put it in my oversized pant pocket, ran back out, locked the doors, and borrowed some hay from the nearby horse feed barn and then grabbed matches from the cigar lounge.

I put the hay in front of the bar, lit a match and set the pub a blaze.

I heard the people run to the door and scream for someone to let them out.

“Sorry, but you were all about to kill me. A man’s got a right to defend his life. You all can burn now. See you all in hell, jerks. And I’m not a cheater,” I said.

I took the booze out of my pocket, opened it up and took a sip.

“The town is mine, now,” I said, smiling as the bar burned and all the townspeople with it. I took another sip of booze.

Later that night, I watched a large pack of wolves head to what remained of the bar from my porch.

I followed them to see what they were up to.

The wolves walked to the ashy remains of the bar and started eating the cooked townspeople.

Maybe the wolves were on to something. I was in this town alone now, and it would take me a while to have fresh food shipped in, and longer still to grow or raise my own.

I had to make what little food I had left last as long as possible. Why let a good thing go to waste?

After a few minutes of watching the wolves eat the barflies, bakers and other townspeople who cooked in the fire, I decided to join them.

I’m now Chester the Cheater, People Eater.