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Russian Roulette, Game the First
((For Tank McCannon))

"Good evening, Hugh," Templeton said gruffly, taking off his glasses and setting his .357 Magnum Revolver on the table. "Take a seat."

Placing a single bullet into the the cyllinder, Arthur snapped it shut, nodding with satisfaction. The game was set; he passed the gun to the man across the table, 'Hugh.'

_________________
~They're gonna hang me in the mornin', before the night is done,
They're gonna hang me in the mornin', and I'll never see the sun.~

The hammer smacks into an empty chamber; and Hugh doubles his bet, living to collect $10,000 dollars, as promised.

"Well-played, old sport. Spin again?" Templeton asks, taking the revolver and spinning the cyllinder once more. "Or quit while you're ahead?"

_________________
~They're gonna hang me in the mornin', before the night is done,
They're gonna hang me in the mornin', and I'll never see the sun.~

_________________
Maxlikes Murcock: (( Small cock works. ))
Maxlikes Murcock: (( For me anyway ))

Gordan Fisherman M.D.: Take your pants off.

The hammer smacks down, igniting the powder of an authentically-lethal .357 Magnum round. The back of Hugh's head is spattered onto the walls, and Templeton shudders, taking his gun back. "Poor son-of-a-bitch."

RIP, Victim I. Hugh Jazs.

_________________
~They're gonna hang me in the mornin', before the night is done,
They're gonna hang me in the mornin', and I'll never see the sun.~