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September 27, 2012 by Whispering Smith

Meet Billy Moon the Oglala Sioux, you will be hearing more from Billy, Dorothy and the pistol that was once in Billy the kid’s right hand…

The big man walked into the downtown bar and ordered a Mich.

He turned and bumped into the very pregnant Dorothy Moon, spilling her drink down her new blue frock.

He laughed and stepped around her.

Billy Moon said, ‘Hey man…’

The man said, ‘What’s the matter, boy, you get your fat bitch in trouble? You do that to her?’

Billy looked at the man, looked him up and down.

The man said, ‘Out of my way you little prick.’

Billy looked at  the man’s polished, red and black high heeled boots and said, ‘Just because you wear cowboy boots don’t make you a fucking cowboy.’

The man said, ‘And that makes you, what?

Billy pulled the pistol from the back waistband of his faded Lees and shot the man in the foot, the right foot, straight through the toe of his polished Tony Lama boots, the big toe, driving bone and flesh into the pinewood floor. Then he cocked the pistol again and shot out the other big toe. The man screamed, went down hard, curled up like a  foetus, hugging his knees to his chest, sobbing.

Billy set the smoking pistol on the bar, smiled at the barkeep and, taking Dorothy’s arm, walked out of the bar, crossed the street to his black pickup and hasn’t been seen since.

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