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 Marlboro puffs.
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...
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