Groggy, he woke up; as he sat up the piercing light blasted through his slightly open eyelids and attacked his brain. The pain form the light sent him to seethe in pain. He lay on the hard ground for about a half an hour rubbing his temples. He figured it’d be no use getting up; he was way too hung over to do anything today as it was, so why try. He laid his hands on his chest getting comfortable; he felt a piece of paper pinned to his chest. He pulled it off and finally opened his eyes, the sun still hurt. His eyes finally adjusted, it was a note that read. “This is the LAST time we throw your sorry a** out of our town, next time you start playing all cute and funny with the sheriff’s daughter, she wont be able to convince him to let you go, stay out of town kid, take the advice” it was signed from Norman, the old bar keep from town, he had known him his whole life, he had always kept an eye out for him.

He sat up and found him self in the middle of a desert left with nothing but his cloths, his lucky revolver, a nap sac filled with some old bread, a small canister of jam, a can of beans, and two filled canteens. Norman always had taken care of him.

“So heading back into town for a drink doesn’t look like much of an option it looks like” he said to no one in particular. He stood up slowly and stif, stretching out his arm and legs, doing a few squats to get the blood pumping under the blazing hot sun. he wore a hat he had been left by his father, it was black, old, beaten up, but still had its crisp points. It was sort of like a weird mix of a pirate and cowboy hat. He always did love the phrase ‘cowboy’, he didn’t even like cows, or beef, always a chicken kind of guy, but he thought its be weird to call himself a chicken-boy.he wore a beaten up old black jacket, long black pants, and worn old black boots. He pulled out his revolver, spun it around his finger a few times.

“Now how am I supposed to stay out of town if I don’t know where town is?” he said to himself “lets see,” he point his gun to his right without looking “I want to go that way and have a cold one at Normans… So I guess this way” he twirled his gun around a few times, checked the barrel to see that it was all full (Norman helping him out again) and put it back into its holster. At a swivel of his boot he turned to his left, threw his bag over his shoulder and started trudging on towards the horizon.

He walked for days, only stopping the few hours at night to sleep. He didn’t even set up the tent; he just threw his bag down and used it for a pillow. It was a desert, it wasn’t going to rain, and he would deal with any animals that would come near (which none did). After what he figured was about a week of walking and no sign of even a shrub, he was about to give up and just lay down in the heat. His lips were chapped from dehydration, his legs were swollen and weak from walking, and he was tired… very tired. He stopped his pace and just stood there, contemplating how much longer he’d have to walk. He thought about norm, and about how he screwed himself over once again. All he wanted was to go back home, have a drink, and enjoy heather’s (norms old wife) piano playing while he swallowed pints of beer. As he was reminiscing of what seemed like years ago, a black splotch caught his eye to his side. He turned to the left and saw that some vultures were circling overhead, from what he guessed about 6 miles away. He checked his water and saw he had about half a canteen left. He contemplated if he even could make the walk there. He sighed and said “well what do I have to lose. If I just sit here, then the vultures will just end up coming to me. And who knows, might get lucky” talking to himself once again.