Inspiration Randomly Strikes: Old West Bank Robbery Scene
“You goddamn thief!” he spat as he choked under the weight of my boot. “You good-fer-nothin’, robbing people of their hard-earned money, of what’s theirs, because you’re too lazy to get your hands dirty or too stupid to figure out how.” My blood ran hot to my skin and I pushed my boot down harder on his chest. “Shut up old man,” I said, pointing my pistol at his face. “You don’t think I work hard for this money? Do my hands look clean to you?” Truth was they were filthy, sticky with sweat and blood - most of it my own. “You worked so hard for that money, did you? You and all these...” I swung my free hand around at all the customers groveling with their faces on the floor. “You sat at a desk all day, counting down the minutes till you could go home. Even working in the fields, you people were sitting on the right side of morality, in the favor of God and all those who make His laws and speak His truths. Right?” I felt the old banker wince under my heel, my gun still pointed at his face and my heart racing faster. “Well I don’t sit at a desk, old man. I don’t count the minutes because I don’t have a home, and I don’t pretend--” I pushed into my heel and the old fella gagged as he felt the weight come down on him-- “I don’t pretend to know God. So maybe my work is just a little more honest than yours, mister.”
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