Those Plastic Pseudo-Gunslingers

It was high time we paid 'em another visit. Yesterday found Latigo Flint and his relatively trusty sidekick, Kid Relish, striding squinty-eyed and dangerous through the Ghost Town/Calico Square area of that there amusement park, Knott's Berry Farm.

I have no idea who at Knott's Berry Farm Corporate is responsible for checking the quickdraw qualifications of those silly pseudo-gunslingers they hire to stroll around, posing for pictures, but whoever it is ought to be fired right along with every single one of those pathetic, pretend pistolaros.

An ever-growing crowd amassed next to the Churro stand to watch me square off against the last one. "Alright tinhorn, the next child who drops their Churro is our signal to reach." He glanced at his depressed coworkers. "I'm pretty sure this isn't - that is to say I... SECURITY!!!" How pathetic. I started to wonder if he was even worth beating to the draw, but then a chubby Asian child in a Snoopy t-shirt dropped his Churro and gunslinger instinct took over. Before the wretched tinhorn could even think about twitching, my blurred hands slapped thigh and shucked my authentic replica Colt Peacemaker revolvers from their hand-tooled elk hide holsters, cylinder twirling both in a continuous snap.

"Damn that's fast!" Even Kid Relish was impressed. Kid stared at the stunned tinhorn, "Hey puto, what's your name?" "Tyler." Came the sullen reply. "Damn but that was fast wasn't it Tyler?" "Umm, I guess so."

An angry young woman shoved her way through the crowd and approached The Kid and I. "Well congratulations - you two are just about the biggest losers I've ever seen. What, so you're big men 'cause you sit in your parent's basement all day playing with your silly cap guns?"

Kid Relish was reaching across himself, gearing up for one of his monster backhands, but I quickly stepped between them. "Ma'am, Tyler over there receives money from this amusement park to personify a sacred way of life-" A small child trotted up and tugged once on the side of my shirt. I tried to ignore him. "- sacred Ma'am. He's paid to represent an ideal." The child started tugging urgently. "Umm, an ideal... and it's an ideal ideal, and that tinhorn, Tyler, does a grievous dishonor to-" The child started hopping up and down and humming while urgently tugging on the side of my shirt.

"By the waxed handlebar of Earp, WHAT DO YOU WANT!!!???" The child pointed, "You come and take picture with me and daddy?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Damnit, that's what I'm trying to explain, gunslingers don't go around posing for pictures." The child frowned up at me suspiciously. "That one over there did." I wanted to cry. I blinked back angry tears. "Sweet Calamity Jane am I talking to myself - he's not a real gunslinger!!!" The cruel young woman sensed an advantage. "Oh, and YOU are? How many people have YOU shot?"

Kid Relish, bless him, came to my aid at that point. "That's a trap question Latigo, and you know it. Let me backhand the shit out of all these people and then let's leave and get drunk."

So I let Kid Relish backhand the shit out them. What other choice did I have? The Churro Lady held him off for a while with her flailing frozen Churros. But eventually she too tasted his vengeful knuckles.