[RL wth Philo]
By now, everyone in the quaint little town was slowly getting over the strange and dynamic battle that had taken place just a week or so ago. Some people thought they had imagined the whole thing. Life seemed to be back to normal, for all the dogs and birds and horses and all sorts of walking animals of this world.
As for Panchito Pistoles, he was making the finishes touches on cleaning his large home. Due to one thrilling adventure with his friends Donald and Jose he could afford a vast ranch, full of ripe crops, a bit of cattle, and enough room for his steed to gallop around in. His own living quarters were humble, but plenty could live inside.
Finished with dusting and cleaning, Panchito sat on his front porch, awaiting his female guest. He plucked the strings on his guitar, and for a moment eyed his favorite guns at his sides...he pondered if he shot himself, would he still live? He last guest, Coco, had confirmed he was immortal, but curiosity still piqued him.
He dismissed the idea for now, and resumed waiting. Playful hands strummed his instrument, and he lightly murmured an old tune "Little bird, little bird..."
As for Panchito Pistoles, he was making the finishes touches on cleaning his large home. Due to one thrilling adventure with his friends Donald and Jose he could afford a vast ranch, full of ripe crops, a bit of cattle, and enough room for his steed to gallop around in. His own living quarters were humble, but plenty could live inside.
Finished with dusting and cleaning, Panchito sat on his front porch, awaiting his female guest. He plucked the strings on his guitar, and for a moment eyed his favorite guns at his sides...he pondered if he shot himself, would he still live? He last guest, Coco, had confirmed he was immortal, but curiosity still piqued him.
He dismissed the idea for now, and resumed waiting. Playful hands strummed his instrument, and he lightly murmured an old tune "Little bird, little bird..."