Bookshelf Battle

Jane never took the time to learn her opponent’s name. She was too busy straddling his chest and socking him the face – a left hook, a right jab, repeat. This went on for awhile until the ne’er-do-well managed to push her off and spring to his feet.

This gave him the upper hand. He drew his pistol and stood over Jane, pointing it at her.

“Guess we’ll just skip that kiss then and get right to it,” the bandit said. “Never seen a woman in trousers before. Take ‘em off.”

Little did this degenerate know that Jane’s boot clad foot was, as luck would have it, positioned in just the right way to deliver a good hard kick to…

“My balls!” Without thinking, the bandit dropped his piece to grab, well, his other piece, then dropped to the ground.

“No thanks,” Jane said. “I’ve already had enough disappointment for one life.”

The loaded pistol sat there in the dirt. Jane and her opponent locked eyes just before they both reached for it.