In a swirl of lust and dust Randon thumped down the saloon stairs. Shirt askew and pants undone, he made his unsteady way towards the bar. Eyes rolled, and knowing hands patted chuckling backs.

He rasped, “I need more whiskey, and two more gir…”

His attention slid across the booze slicked bar to Sid’s rant two stools down, “…ucker! Rev, how do you stomach yer own swill. Ain’t possible. Ain’t right. Ain’t even plausible. I oughta’ drop kick yer preachy face fer…”

Sid stopped, partly due to the alcoholic reak now cascading across his face and partly due to the intimidating effect of Randon’s nearly 7 foot frame looming over him. The preacher swallowed hard and made as if to speak. He must have thought better of it.

Randon tapped the hefty bible on the bar, “This shi…shtuff is true. You mind yer manners, kid.” Then he hammered the text across Sid’s face with a wide arcing backhand. He calmly answered the crowd’s shocked looks, “Just cause I cain’t live it worth a darn don’t mean it ain’t true.”