Editing Four of Spades: 'Karma'

Huh, someone told you 'bout that Indian guy, then? I've seen plenty injuns around 'ere, dunno what you might-... oh, you mean an actual INDIAN-indian, not one of the redskins...? Aye, okay, yeah, there was somethin' 'bout a guy like that... aye. Okay, gimmie a shot and I'll tell ya...

So it was a nice day, much like this, a bit rainy... coupla months back. This guy walks in, an old fella, kinda brown, with white hair 'n beard, dressed all exotic. End up drinkin' with the guy and hearin' his story: so he's from the east, wandered 'round here to escape poverty, and such. Y'know, a lot of us do that, right? It's bad where they're from, so they come to the west, 'n... okay, now I'm rambling again, lemme get to the point.

Anyway, some guy overhears this, comes over. "Ya think it's been tough to you?", he claims. "I've had me money robbed, horse stolen from under me, my dad's dead, 'n yesterday I see a bunch of people muggin' this old man, so I go over to help, and get my ass kicked instead!" He spits in a bowl, an' snarls. "Lost two teeth 'cuz I wanted to help someone... that ain't makin' me feel too good, y'know?"

The whole time, this old guy just looks at 'im, nods every now 'n then while he listens, smilin'. Well, this infuriates the younger fella even more, starts ramblin' 'bout how he's happy 'bout his suffering, "Ya think it's funny to hear me speak 'bout how life's been kicking me to the gutter, huh?"

"And yet," the ol' fella responds, "you were kind enough to stop helping another man in need."

"Well, 'course," he stammers. "Couldn't let a guy on his own like tha', I mean..." Then, abruptly, he stopped, 'cuz the ol' man had pulled his gun.

Didn't know what he'd said to make 'im pissed off, meself... maybe he just got angry 'cuz the younger man claimed he'd had shit luck, or what? So, this guy gets all scared when he finds a gun bein' pointed at his nose - and not just any gun, either, but a Gun, with a capital G! Small, kinda rusty lookin', but I could see the spade 'n the four on its handle, knew this was one of the Cards.

"Whoa, man, sorry!", the fella starts. "Didn' mean to make ya mad, just pull the gun awa-" He couldn' say any more before the ol' man pulled the trigger.

'N nothin' happened. There's the click, but no bang, no bullet comes out. The whole place goes silen'. "...Huh?"

"How are you feeling now?", the brown ol' fella asks, putting his gun back into its holster. The one he'd fired it at - or had he? - just stood there, pantin', like someone hadn't just pulled the trigger at 'is face. "Uh... I feel kinda good, um. Actually... yeah. Like it could get better, 'n stuff..."

Then he left, almost dancin', 'tleast if ya compared to his mood before. Heard he won pretty good money at Casino the next day.

So this ol' Indian guy, he sticks 'round a few days. Durin' the time, there're a coupla more fellas down on their luck seein' 'im, telling 'im of their problems... and he'd pull his gun at 'em and fire, and each time they'd leave a lot happier. What kind of a gun was that, that made people happy? I dunno. Ain't usually work like that.

But here's the weird part. Aye, gets weirder... once, there's this guy, in rich clothing, comes over. "They tell me you're a lucky ol' man," he tells to the fella. "Dare to share some of that to a poor guy like me?"

Again, he pulls his four 'o spades, points it at the fella, 'n fires... 'xcept this time 'round, there was a bang. Blood, too, and bits o' brain. Everyone goes all scared, they hadn' expected it to do that. The guy blows smoke off 'is iron and puts it away, tells us he doesn' know what this guy'd done, 'xcept it must've been bad.

"Karma is a bitch," he said, flashin' a grin with missin' teeth. He left a coupla days after, never heard of 'im since.