THE HUNTER The Hunter calmly stepped through the swinging doors of the Saloon. His spurs made that familiar sound. Clink clink. The smoke hit him like a punch. Somebody was playing away on an out of tune, honky tonk piano. The player stopped playing to catch a glance at The Hunter, who walked up and took a seat by the bar. The Player started playing again. "What'll it be?'' says the bartender. "Give me a whiskey." Says the hunter, swallowing his spit and placing 30 cents on the counter. Somebody else entered the Saloon, and, as if to follow routine, everybody's attention was on the person who entered, and the player stopped playing to catch a glance. The Hunter looked at the new guest, a dirty Mexican. Not him. "Anything else?" Inquires the bartender. "Just a peaceful half-hour to drink it in." He replies. The Hunter started drinking his drink. "You stayin' in town long?" says the bartender. "Just for some business." "What kind of business?" he asks. The Hunter, who didn't like unnecessary curiosity, looked up at him. "None of your damn--" The saloon doors swung open, and a filthy cowboy entered. His spurs said hello. Clink clink. The Player stopped playing. Everyone looked at the cowboy. Nobody recognised him, and so everybody went back to their drinking and conversing. The player started playing. The Hunter knew him. He knew that filthy cowboy, and all the filthy despicable shit he was blamed for. But what that cowboy had done didn't matter one bit to the Hunter. That Cowboy's filthy hairy good for nothin' head was worth ten thousand dollars. The Hunter stood up, gave his glass to the bartender, turned around, and just stood, leaning on the stool behind him. The Cowboy walked to the bar and demanded a beer. The Bartender poured his beer and gave it to him. "You're gonna have to start a tab." Says the cowboy. "I know, I know, you don't have the money 'cos you just rode into town." Replies the bartender. The Cowboy took his drink and drank a greedy gulp from it. He took the glass away from his lips and smiled. He then noticed the Hunter. The Hunter looked him up and down while he drank his gulp. He looked at his long tufts of hair, his bright, grey eyes and his scruffy beard. The absence of the top of his right ear gave away his despicable identity. He noticed the Hunter, standing there. He stopped drinking for a second. He stared at him. "Want anything, cowboy?" He says. "No, I'm just fine." Responds the Hunter. "Just thought you were my cousin out of Missouri." The scruffy Cowboy looked at him for a second, and then went to seat himself at a table near the door.

The hunter bought another drink and calmly drank. He payed for his drink, sat up, pushed his stool in, and wandered over to the Cowboy's table, where he sat like a son of a bitch in his foul son of a bitch's lair, smoking a cigar and drinking his beer. The Hunter walked up, and stood in front of his table. "What do you want, now, cowboy?" says the Cowboy, this cowboy being one to start a fight here and there. "You're wanted, Munny." "...You're a Bounty Hunter?" "Man's gotta do somethin' for a livin'." He paused. "Dyin' ain't much of a livin, cowboy." There was a short moment of silence as everybody in the place shut up and devoted their undivided attention to the Hunter and the hunted, who tossed the table over onto the Hunter, who fell on the floor underneath it. The player stopped playing and everyone watched. The cowboy ran towards the door. The Hunter pulled his piece and shot one in the direction where he ran. He shot four more after him, but missed on account of his dizziness. The last one nicked the cowboy on the neck and he fell over. The hunter ran out with a chair. When the Cowboy got up, he smashed the chair across his jaw. The Cowboy stumbled and fell onto the dusty ground. But to the hunter's surprise, he came up with a knife and cut off a piece of his ear. "Come on," He says, "Fight me!" He hit the Hunter hard right between the eyes, who came back with a punch to the jaw. Everyone was now gathering around to watch as if they were Romans. But in a flick of a knife in a second and to the Hunter's fatal surprise, the Cowboy stabbed him right in the gut. He yanked the knife out and punched him in the nose. The hunter puked and bled and bled some more and keeled over and fell on the ground in a pathetic heap. The fight was over. Everyone went back in. The Player began playing once again. Clink, clink, no more, Hunter.