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To all the idiots recently gored.

Beetlejuce, Beetlejuce, Beetlejuce

680. TWO SPEEDS Sheriff Linn Keller lifted his chin, tilted his head slightly. Mr. Baxter carefully placed a shot glass of something amber near the second man's left hand. Linn rose, swiped his meager winnings into his palm, dumped the coin into a small purse, dropped this into his coat pocket. "Gentlemen," he said, "thank you all for your kindness, and if I don't give this game to those who are younger, smarter and better lookin' than me, I'll end up losin' everything I've got!" The man to his right was dangerous -- the Sheriff knew this -- he also knew that the fellow had an appetite for drink, and if the Sheriff stood him to a tilt of a good grade of Scald-Your-Tongue, he'd be less inclined to be unhappy at the Sheriff's departure. The Sheriff turned, walked slowly toward the front door, knowing the man's glare followed his black-coated back. He also knew the gambler's gaze would slip past his own tenderloins and rest on Jacob, who was standing very still, watching the watching man with hard and pale eyes. Jacob waited until his father was three paces past him before turning to follow. Two long tall lawmen swung into saddle leather, turned as one, rode side by side down the dirt street, heading generally toward the firehouse, their horses at an easy walk. Jacob waited until they'd gotten to the end of the street. "Sir?" "Yes, Jacob?" "How'd you do?" The Sheriff grinned at his son. "Better than usual!" Jacob's face broadened, his grin coming more slowly: "You turned a profit this time?" LInn laughed. "No, Jacob, I didn't make any money, but I did get some information I was lookin' for." "How much did you lose, sir?" "Five bucks." "Was the information worth it?" Linn's look of satisfaction was reply enough. Later that day, after sending two telegrams and receiving one, after another lawman made an arrest and the prisoner was safely confined in that distant jurisdiction, Linn looked at his son and nodded, once. "Jacob?" "Yes, sir?" "I believe that was the best five dollars I ever lost at poker!" "Yes, sir," Jacob replied, nodding in return, once. That night, after the evening train brought the mail, a boy ran in barefoot haste to the Sheriff's office: his speed was partly because ... well, boys generally have two speeds, wide open and dead stop, but also because when he brought a message to the Sheriff, he ended up with coin enough to get pie over at the Silver Jewel. The Sheriff received the message, broke the seal, unfolded the paper: he read it, read it again, folded the paper and looked thoughtfully across the street, tapping the folded paper into his other palm. He blinked, slowly, then slipped the paper into an inside pocket. "Best five bucks I ever lost."

Gawd that's scary.

Not clips! Magazines!

What The VA Sees

Thumb in cheek?

..... I think his wife has plans for that ....

Looking good! Regards Gateway Kid