Oh, well, it got so that every pissin' prairie punk who thought he could shoot a gun would ride into town to try out the Waco Kid. I must have killed more men than Cecil B. De Mille. It got pretty gritty. I started to hear the word 'draw' in my sleep. Then one day, I was just walkin' down the street, and I heard a voice behind me say, 'Reach for it, mister!' I spun around and there I was face to face with a six year-old kid. Well, I just threw my guns down and walked away. The little bastard shot me in the ass, so I limped to the nearest saloon, crawled inside a whiskey bottle, and I've been there ever since.