Re-Holstering Death Between Puffs of Moonlight

A lifetime ago, somewhere in Houston, I really tied one on. Somewhere in the wreckage of a ninety-proof night. I got into a fight and lost the keys to my apartment. With a boozy shoulder, I attempted to ram down the door. My landlady pointed a shiny 44 at my forehead. Thankfully she recognized me between puffs of moonlight. She re-holstered my death and walked away in a huff. (There's something about a tight little blonde with a big shiny gun) She wouldn't talk to me for days...until the rent was up. This story is 89 proof with only one tiny embellishment...