One shot Saturday

'You've got one shot mister, just the one. No more, OK?'

Skip nodded. He knew a lifeline when he saw one.

'Take your time. No need to rush, though it'd help me if you took it sooner rather than later. Other punters and all.'

Skip said nothing, gave nothing. He had one shot and all he needed to do was to concentrate on that. His finger, easy as a slice of pie, rested on the trigger, waiting tenderly for the target to come into view. Get this shot away and he might just get home in one piece; miss and home would be a distant memory of a brain released from this mortal coil.

'Steady now,' he whispered to himself as people now crowded behind, the smell of them looking to drown out the cool necessity of the easy shot well sent.

And that it came, the hare, the rabbit, the man, the fox, the target. A digit released and a slice of lead released at the speed of sound.

Silence as the target falls and the circle of life holds its breath to see who will live and who will die; and in all the commotion Skip is gone, escaped into the night to live another god forsaken day.

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