Bootsy has some brass ballsMature

The lanky man pulled a butterfly knife from inside his zoot suit-wannabe vest and swished the blade into position to strike. He closed the gap between himself and the departing stranger who had just initiated the bloodiest massacre Ponytail had ever seen and lifted the knife above his head with every intent to bury it deep into the man's cranium. And even though his thirst for vengeance increased the speed of his movements, he was surprised when Bootsy spun around and shoved the shotgun into Ponytail's mouth, which effectively stopped all his momentum and not coincidentally broke every single one of his teeth. He sputtered out a few bloody coughs as a few of those dislodged chicklets tumbled down his throat and made him gag, but did little else but tear up as his heartbeat pulsed through his mutilated gums.

The shotgun carried only two shots, and the bartender had used both during the firefight, so Ponytail knew he was in no danger of losing his head by buckshot, but Bootsy waggled the weapon just a little bit, leaving Ponytail to squirm like a caught fish on the line. He groaned in agony as the pain shot through his mouth with each waggle.

Got your attention, do I?”

Ponytail said nothing, he was worried he might choke on one of his own teeth, but he did nod with his eyes.

Good,” said Bootsy, calmly, “you don't want to do anything stupid, if you catch my drift, because you've got a story to tell.”

The lanky man's shoulders sagged in resignation.

Bootsy called to the bartender, “You got any rope to secure this asshole's hands so he don't run off?”

Better'n that. I got zip ties!”

Bootsy nodded his satisfaction and removed the sawed-off from Ponytail's mouth, “Well then, secure this prick. I'm out the door before the cops get here.” The sirens were already in the air, intent but still far away.

Hey stranger,” the bartender called as he tightened the zip ties at the lone survivor's wrists, causing Bootsy to stop and turn one last time, holding the door open with his elbow.

Am I ever going to see you again?”

Bootsy looked at the slaughtered bodies strewn about the floor in unnatural angles and answered, “Good Christ, no! I'm gonna have nightmares about this fuckin' dump for months because of these shitheads!”

He let the door swing closed behind him as he slipped away into the night, a good minute ahead of the sirens.

The End

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