May 17 1871: Albuquerque, New Mexico:
One day, I was sitting on my bed, contemplating life and the universe. It was an arid day, dry and hot. My man-servant, Amos Bobahead, was wiping the portrait of my great-grandfather, Alexander von Bond, when we heard a knock on the door.
“Eh Amos, be a pal an’ open the door will yah.”
   “Yah, sure thing Bucky.” said Amos, and he trotted downstairs, mumbling something about salesmen. I heard the door creak open, a bark of a man, Amos’s yelp, a bang and a thud, followed by laughter.  My heart was racing They shot Amos! I thought Those dogs shot him deader than mah gran’pa. I looked at my great grandpa’s half wiped painting for support, grabbed my hunting knife and creeped my way downstairs. Halfway down, I heard creaking behind me. I froze and turned around. Standing in front of me was a man the size of a grizzly bear, armed with a shovel.
“UYAAAAAH!!”He roared.
“AIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” I screamed. He swung his shovel, everything went black.
  I opened my eyes and saw Amos’s dead face staring at me blankly, a bullet-hole in his head. “Sorry bud” I whispered. A hand then grabbed my collar and yanked me to my feet, bringing me face to face with my house invaders. They were spread out across my living room, all seven of them. They were rugged looking and dirty. Standing by my door was a scrawny Chinese immigrant with beady eyes and a straw hat. Knives were all over him, on his belt, in his shoes, strapped on his shirt, in his gun holster, in his braided hair and two in his hands. Eating my corn in my kitchen, was a pale man with long black hair and a raccoon fur hat. He had black eyes, two tomahawks and a scar running from his forehead to his lips. Smoking a cigar next to the knife-man was a black man with a rifle. He looked like he was just over 18 years old, but his eyes were cold and emotionless. Sipping my beer in my rocking chair was a sombrero wearing, mustached Mexican. Tattooed over his bare chest was the name ‘DORA’. Sitting at my table was the man who was obviously their leader. He was wearing a velvet waist-coat over a shirt that had embroidery on the collar and sleeves. He had red hair tied up in a small pony-tail, a fine pair of whiskers and a goatee. He was also pointing a revolver straight at me, smirking. Flanking him were two people. One was the same giant-man who attacked me before. He had a thick golden beard and sparkling blue eyes. His head and arms were covered in Norse tattoos. The other was a spectacled man with caterpillar moustache wearing a black and white three piece suit. One hand held a wrist-watch, the other a pistol.
  “Hello,” said the red headed man “You must be Amos Bobahead.”  His voice had a thick Irish accent so I cleverly deduced that he was from Ireland. “You can be spared, mister Bobahead, we’ll let you go. You see, we only want Mr. Bond’s--”
“Whoa there, hold on to yer horses,” I exclaimed “Ah aint no Amos Bobahead, mah name’s James Buckert Bond, Ahm the man yer lookin’ for.” Silence ensued, then red head started howling with laughter and his men followed suit. I stood there, confused, what in tarnation is so funny ‘bout my name. The red head wiped his eyes gasping for breath “Well, thank you for correcting our error. We didn’t mean to kill your servant, we are here to kill you…aaand rob your house”.
     “Oh…” I said, this was followed by more chuckling.
  “But why?” I asked “Who are you. Why do y’all wanna kill me, what did Ah ever do to y’all.”
    “Oh I’m sorry, we didn’t properly introduce ourselves” said the Irish man “These are my associates. My good butler George Nickleworth, my Scandinavian body-guard Ragnar Bjorson, and my freed slave Alfred McDonnell. That man eating corn is Philippe LeBou, he’s wanted in France for treason and in 20 states for murder and theft.” He then stood up and pointed towards Knife-man and Sombrero boy “And those two fine gentlemen are, Xiao Jhong Wong and Diego Marquéz. As for me, I am Scipius Asellio Servillius Quintillius Maximus Bibulus Julius Rufus McDonnell the eleventh, the biggest hooligan in all of Albuquerque, but you can call me Billy.”
“But why do yah wanna kill me Billy?” I asked.
   “That is a long story” he said smirking.
“Ah can wait”
  “Ok then…” McDonnell took a deep breath and sat down in his chair. He pulled out a cigar and lit it. “I’m gonner have to take a smoke for this one” After taking one smoke he offered it to Ragnar. The Scandinavian plopped it in his mouth and ate it, his mouth smoking.
“Do you know anything about your great grandfather?” he asked.
“Umm…he fought in the War of Independence.”
“Yes, in the War of Independence your great-grandfather smiled at my great grandfather the wrong way. Now, my great grandfather didn’t like to get smiled at, so he shot your great grandfather. Because of that he got arrested and hanged. Unable to cope with the deat of his father, my grandfather became mentally ill and shot my father when I was 6. My mom then committed suicide, and I was raised an orphan on the streets of Dublin. It was all your grandfather’s fault so I came here to extract revenge. I dug out your great-grandfather and your grandfather’s skeletons and burnt them. Then my gang and I brutally murdered your father and mother. Now it’s your turn Bucky.”
“But mah daddy is still alive,” I said, confused “Ah met him an’ hour ago. An’ mah great granpaw died from falling down the stairs, he didn’t get shot by nobody this makes no sense.”
“OF COURSE IT MAKES NO SENSE!” He screamed, his face turning pink “I MADE IT UP. WE ARE ROBBERERS WE JUST KILL AND ROB PEOPLE FOR NO GOOD REASON OKAY!!!!”
“But why meee!” I complained “You could’ve just killed mah neighbor Frank yah know.”
Billy’s face was red. “WE DON’T CARE!” He screamed “We just rob and kill random people, and today that just happens to be you, capish.”
“But don’t yah wanna go ter heaven an’ meet Jesus Christ.”
Now Billy’s face had turned as purple as his waistcoat. “You know what…” He said, teeth clenched “I will enjoy killing you, and believe me, it will be painful.”
At that moment, my neighbor Frank chose to walk into to my house. “What the hell is goin’ on here? Ahm tryin to go ter sleep, you--” Before he could finish, three knives embedded themselves in his chest turning his nightgown crimson. He fell to the floor a surprised yet angry look on his face.
“Now ya’ll definitely aint goin’ to heaven.” I commented as Xiao went to pick up his knives.
“CÁLLATE!!!” This time it was Diego who spoke, his moustache quivering.
“Huh?”
“SHUT UP!”
“Let’s just get this over with and kill him already.” insisted Butler-man.
“Agreed” said Billy and he reached for his knife.
“Wait, yer not gonna shoot me?” I exclaimed.
“No… we’re not gonna shoot you.” hissed Billy “we are each going to inflict as much pain on you as possible and then we’re going to shoot you.” With that said he gave me a back-handed slap across the face that sent me sprawling. “Ragnar, you’re up first” he said, the man-beast grunted in assent and moved towards me.
“WAIT!” I hollered, everyone froze.
“Oh now what.” snapped Billy.
“Ah wanna die wearin’ my paw’s cowboy hat… can Ah go an’ get it.” Billy and his gang glared at me so I made my famous puppy dog face.
“Oh whatever” groaned Billy “George, go and take him upstairs to get his dumb hat.”
At this George grabbed my arm and led me upstairs. Now, I really wasn’t going up to get my hat, I was actually going to get my revolvers, my sword plus my dagger so I could come back down and beat them out of my house. As we entered my room George began looking around suspiciously “So, where’s your hat…”
“Uhhhhhh… Its-its…” I stammered. Butler-man laid his hand on his pistol.
“Don’t tell me this is some kind of a trick” he said. His pistol was now drawn and he was casually loading it.
“Umm…well…yah see…” Using the element of surprise I swung out my leg, swiping his feet out from under him. He crashed on the floor and I followed up with a kick to his head. While he was down I quickly grabbed my grandfather’s sword from the wall and turned towards him.
“You dirty rat!” he spat “Mark my words you will pay for tha--” Before he could say another word I lopped his head off. Unfortunately for me, his head took a bounce towards the stairs and tumbled downward.
“Is that George?” Said Alfred.
“George!” yelped Billy
“Sacré Bleu!” exclaimed Philippe.
“GEORGE!!!” screamed Ragnar.
“He killed him.” Observed Xiao.
“Well than, what are you waiting for!” yelled Billy “KILL Him!” As they charged up the stairs, I quickly grabbed my father’s revolvers, put my dagger in my boot and ran to my door, preparing for the onslaught. I saw the hoard and immediately aimed my pistol at Ragnar but a tomahawk came out of nowhere and lodged itself on the wall two inches away from my face.  Distracted I never noticed Phillipe until he tackled me to the floor.
“George, ‘e was my best friend, I will kill you for zis.” He growled, axe raised above his head.
“Not if Ah kill you first!” I replied and shot him in the chest.
“Touché” he remarked weakly before promptly falling to the floor.
I smiled This is easier than I thought I can take ‘em all down easy peezy. I was brought back into reality by the flat side of Ragnar’s broad-axe smashing into my face. Then I received a flying kick by Xiao, a bullet to my forearm and a punch to the face courtesy of Diego.
“I’ll take care of this.” He said and began to punch me, kick me and generally beat me up. Behind him the rest of the party began to chant “GO DIEGO GO, GO DIEGO GO!” The Mexican then pulled me up, spat on my face and tossed me on the floor…right next to my revolver. I couldn’t shoot Diego because he was behind me so I had to find other options before they found out I wasn’t unconscious. However, before I could formulate a plan I felt the cold metal of Diego’s pistol in the back of my head.
“On the count of tres” He said. This was followed by cheers from everyone else.
“Uno…” He began counting down. Oh my God! Think!!! I yelled at myself.
  “Dos…”Time was running out. Then I spotted salvation. My grandfather’s old powder kegs filled to the brim with gun powder directly below the stairs. I sneakily grabbed my gun and fired. BOOM!!! A fireball erupted from under the stairs, sending me and everyone else flying. Then the other powder keg a few feet away blew up too. Everything was out of focus, the room was spinning everywhere, and all I saw was bright fire, a sombrero and black smoke. When I regained focus I was lying on my stomach, ears ringing and everything else hurting. It took me a good while to get up, but I managed it and took a look around.
  Ash was everywhere, my living room was wrecked and the stairs were completely obliterated. Billy’s gang looked like they took a bath in soot (though I probably looked no better) and were currently lying on the floor groaning. Diego got up first and getting up to his knees and reached for his sombrero, all the while cursing in Spanish. Once he had it firmly placed on his head he turned and looked at me.
“You…” He growled. His eyes ablaze with fury he reached for his pistol, which fortunately, was not there. I however, had my pistol and gladly made use of it, shooting him smack in the middle of his ‘DORA’ tattoo. Staring at me with a mixture of anger and disbelief he sunk to his knees, spat out on last curse word and thumped to the floor face first. By this time the others were starting to get to their feet. Ragnar was able to stand up first and proceeded to throw a table at me. I narrowly avoided it, lunging half a second before it crashed into the wall breaking in two. I aimed my pistol at him and fired. The bullet hit him in the chest, but after stumbling backwards he regained his footing and drew his battle-axe, ready to chop me into pieces. I readied my pistol again but before I could fire, a knife flew at me plunging itself into my arm. I screamed and slumped to my knees and then another knife hit my shoulder. It was Xiao who was standing a few feet away, two more knives already in his hand, ready to throw. With tremendous effort I lunged/crawled behind my kitchen table as another knife grazed my boot and two more hit the floor where I just was. Ragnar charged, but fortunately he tripped over Frank and crashed onto the floor.
   I crouched behind the table for a few more seconds, breathing deeply. Then I was interrupted by a barrage of gunfire directed towards me. I curled myself into a ball as bullets ripped through the table and smashed into the wall. Gathering my courage, I reloaded my own pistol, got up on my knees and returned fire.
“DIE YOU FILTHY MAGGOTS!” I screamed. I managed to get Xiao in the arm and I may have gotten Billy on account that he was screaming like a dying chicken. My confidence bolstered I pulled out my other pistol and began firing in the earnest, whooping with glee as the others began to take to take cover. Then Alfred fire two shots. With amazing accuracy he hit both of my guns which promptly exploded in my hands. I quickly ducked as the sharpshooter fired another shot that grazed my head. I then looked around for more options. A few feet away from me lay the late Phillipe’s tomahawk and a bit further than that, my sword. Even closer was Amos’s corpse.
“Hope yah don’t mind bud.” I whispered and hoisted his body up. Using it as a shield, I made a wild dash towards the weapons as everyone fired at me. I reached there safely but Amos’s corpse was full of so much bullets I couldn’t even tell it was Amos anymore. I grabbed the tomahawk and sword, and made a beeline towards where the stairs once were, diving halfway. Quickly I got up, and hurled the tomahawk. It struck Alfred in the face and stuck there as he collapsed to the ground.
   Then I charged, picking up a stray pistol on the way. Xiao flung six knives at me (don’t ask me how) but I ducked and deflected some with my sword. I was intending to go straight for Billy, however Ragnar got to me first. His fist connected with my jaw, sending me across the room and smashing into the wall. Temporarily stunned slowly got to my feet only to see Xiao Jhong Wong standing before me.
“Hayai!!” He cried pulling out a knife. He swung it towards me but I hit his arm and the knife dropped. He reached for another knife but there was none to be found.
“Huh, not so tough without yer knives now are yah?” I taunted.
“I don’t need knives to beat the rikes of you.” He spat back and took some karate stance.
“HIIYA!” he yelled and launched into attack, arms and legs flying everywhere, mostly hitting my face. His leg smacked into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. As I stood there gasping for breath, he roundhouse kicked me and I crumbled to the floor. He didn’t continue with the beating he just stood there, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for me to get up. Ragnar came to finish me off but Xiao stopped him with his hand. Slowly I got up lip bleeding.
“Kiyah!” he screamed leaping in the air once again. This time I was ready, I pulled out my pistol and fired. The bullet hit him in his upper chest and he fell to the floor at an awkward angle, thus snapping his neck. I turned towards Ragnar and shot him too, but like before he didn’t go down, he just got angrier. I then charged at him with my sword. If it were any other man he would have died, I plunged my sword into his stomach and it came out from his back dripping with blood. However I was dealing with a Viking, a berserker Viking by the way. His shirt soaked in his own blood, sword still in him, he grabbed me by the neck and threw me (which seemed to be his favorite thing to do). He roared a guttural cry of wild fury and came right at me, axe raised. I pulled my spare dagger from my boot and tried to parry his strike. The pure strength behind the blow shattered my dagger, leaving me holding nothing but a hilt. He then swung his axe for a back-hand strike. The sharp metal bit into my leg and I cried out loud. The brute then hit me with an uppercut that sent me to the floor. As soon as I hit the floor he immediately proceeded to pound me in the face with his fists, which were the equivalent of hammers. I heard Billy cheering in the background but couldn’t make out the words he was saying due to the fact my face was getting bashed in. My nose was broken, my left eye was swollen and my face was generally a bloody mess. Desperate, I drew my last reserves of strength, pulled out the knife in my shoulder and plunged it into his chest. He roared in pain, allowing me to crawl away to a corner. I loaded my revolver with six bullets, and before the man-beast could launch another attack, shot him five times. Ragnar lumbered forward, growling, his eyes still red with fury. Trembling, I waited for the worst, but the Scandinavian went down to his knees and then to the floor.
“Valhalla…” he gasped, then he died.
Getting to my feet a looked around for Billy. He was on all fours, crawling to the door. He looked at me with the same look a deer gives when it sees a hunter. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted to the door and I was quick to follow.
“Get back here yah cowardly swine!” I yelled at him as we ran towards the stables. My years of running away from bullies was paying off and I was catching up fast. Billy shrieked as my hand grabbed at his collar. He ran inside the stable closing the fence door behind him as he went. With superhuman effort I leaped over the fence, stretched out and grabbed Billy by the pony-tail. I fell to the dirt dragging him down with me. We wrestled there, each trying to get the upper hand. Billy kicked at me and pulled out a knife. Cackling, he lunged at me. He slashed at my face but I dodged it and kicked him in his gut. He dropped the knife and clutched his belly. I then tackled him to the ground and gave him a solid punch to the face. I took his knife and raised it above my head “Prepare to DIE Billy!” I laughed. Then, Billy whistled a high piercing note. All of the sudden I heard a crashing noise behind me and then something collided with my head. I fell to the floor and whatever it was that hit me continued to pound me until I scrambled away. Then I turned and looked towards my attacker. Standing before me was a grey donkey. The animal stomped its hooves proudly and snorted at me.
Billy stood up and dusted of his dirty vest.
“I see you’ve met my mighty steed” he chuckled “His name is Bat-Donk, the quickest, smartest Donkey in the Western Hemisphere. Only his son, Gadda Ning Ning, can beat him in speed and wit.” He saddled up Bat-Donk and proceeded to sit on his donkey. “Well it was fun trying to rob yer house,” he said. “Even though you killed my gang. I’ll give you credit though, you might not be the brightest apple in the bunch but you are by far the toughest man I’ve ever met and I hope I never see you again.” With that he spurred his donkey and prepared to ride off.
“Oh no you don’t!” I cried and pulled out my revolver. There was only one bullet left, I had to make it count. I pointed my revolver, exhaled like my grandfather taught me and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew and rocketed into the sky, ten feet above Billy’s head. Billy looked at me, dumbfounded, then he started howling with laughter.
“Hahaa! You thought you could stop me. No one could ever and no one will ever stop Scipius Asellio Servillius Quintillius Maximus Bibulus Julius Rufus McDonnell the eleventh, the biggest, baddest hooligan in all of Albuquerque. Let’s ride Bat-Donk, YEEE HAWW!!” And with that Billy and Bat-Donk rode off into the sunset. Then they got run over by a train.
Afterwards I went back to my house and surveyed the damage. Eight people dead, and my house in ruins.
                                  “Damn…” I said “Ahm ‘bout to move ter England.”