The two men stood, back to sweaty back, under the Spaghetti Western sun. Thousand-yard stares leaped out of their eyeballs and ran off into the horizon.

“Today,” cried the mayor, "these two men have challenged each other to a duel to the death. Each has been supplied with a Colt .45 revolver for his use. Sheriff Lee here will make sure things don’t go out of hand.

“Now, I’m gonna count off ten steps. Once these gentleman hit ten, I saw ‘draw’, they will both turn around and…well, we’ll see who wins. Understood?”

The crowd nodded. The men set their jaws.

“Ready—one.”

A step.

“Two.”

A step.

Eight more and they stood, nerves on fire, fingers tapping a staccato on their holstered guns.

“Draw!”

With a simultaneous crack, both the mayor and the sheriff lay dead.