Cigarette Smoking Girl In Tight Denim Shorts
“Should’ve been working in a saloon bar, shouldn’t I?
Charles Bronson would be new in town, and he’s already shot the guys in dusters who were waiting for him at the railroad station. He’d come into the saloon, gun in his holster, and tell me to fetch him a drink. He wouldn’t ask if it was OK to smoke a cigarette; he’d just go right ahead and light up. Guess they didn’t have indoor smoking bans in the Wild West.
So I’m standing there, young and cynical, smoking my cigarette as he opens his beer bottle with his teeth. I’m rolling my eyes, blowing smoke rings and pouting my lips. But it’s not at Charlie; it’s at the old drunk in the corner who hassles me everyday. He’s dooling into his beer right now, as I unzip my tight denim shorts and smoke this cigarette just for him.
And that’s when the shots were fired. Guess it’s just me and Charlie now 
