I aim to wind up with an invite to step outside and have it out with fists, but he don't wait.

Right in the middle of my sermon he outs with a gat and blazes away at me.

The slug drills me in the thigh and I go down.
"'Well, this is the slug.

And I been wearing it to remind me that I particular want to meet up with that same gent before he gets too old for a gunfight!'" Here Shorty paused and sighed, shaking his bullet-head.

And a deep murmur of appreciation passed around the room.