Challenged

It was just a sheet of paper, inanimate and harmless. Right?

Wrong! Rupert tore the sheet off of the wall calendar and stared at the date, July 12th, 1759. Until a week ago, the most notable thing that could be said about that date was that it fell on a Sunday, a day normally associated with picnics, family time and a morning with the good Lord.

Looks like the good Lord will be getting a personal visit today Rupert thought. His hands shook violently as he considered the approaching hour of high noon.

It was his own fault really. He never had been skilled at verbal restraint. Given his high intellect and rather feeble physical attributes, one would have thought him capable of finding a less troublesome method for dealing with the bullies that seemed to abound in the rural countryside of Pennsylvania.

One would have thought … and one would have been wrong.

Rupert could not help but say whatever popped into his head. This time there had been a slap with a glove followed by the challenge, “Pistols at noon.”

As Rupert reached for the offered weapon, a tape measure sneaked in for a quick measurement. No need to waste wood if he could be fit into a pre-existing coffin. The dark man smiled; he had a nice pine box in stock.

Spectators gathered as the men paced off to the loud voice of the presiding official. On the count of ten, both men spun. A single bullet flew fast and straight, cutting through a brain like butter.

Rupert dropped to his knees amidst stunned gasps. He looked up to see the ruffian challenger topple like a giant tree. Smiling inwardly, he gave thanks for his secret skill. That had been more fun than he had anticipated.

Word count 300