I'm on page 415, sitting on the front porch. There's cold cervazas in the fridge. Memories of my Terlingua vacation are drifting behind my eyes.
Allen Wayne Damron's Gringo Pistolero is playing softly from the boom box.
On my hip is a big Colt automatic, and on the bench next to me is a Springfield '03. Its sights are set to 800.
Life may be better somewhere, but I'll want to see proof. ;)