Comment: Drop the deck! Git yer hands up! This is a stick up!

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Drop the deck! Git yer hands up! This is a stick up!

I said drop them thar decks... Hands up... Higher!

Ya Missourians run yer selves a fine casino. Shur hate to mess things up. Pay attention & no body gits hurt. Jist here to what cha ya might call, 'run the table.'

We'll be a passing 'round saddlebags. Leave them chips. Money, watches & what cha ought ta give me... in the bags... With the holsters.

Robbery? Hell no! This ain't no robbery. This is what banks call, "Bankruptcy." [Lift brim of hat] Only I ain't a bank. Any question?

[Loud popping sounds echo about the casino.]

Any mur questions? [Collect saddlebags]

Drinks on me fellas! [Toss one bag of silver coin onto bar. Hasty exit. Ride off in cloud of dust toward sunset.]

Disclaimer: Mark Twain (1835-1910-To be continued) is unlicensed. His river pilot's license went delinquent in 1862. Caution advised. Daily Paul