A dark carriage walks along

With two black horses in the front

Down a ghost town in the middle of desert, it walks with warning

For the street is rocky and jagged.

The wagon stops at the end of a long,

Lonely street. Came and stood a man in black with bent

Whiskers from the wagon, holding

His black cowboy hat right-handed,

A sound speels out eerily, ‘jingling, jingling.’

The man in black was looking

At what lies beneath and in front

Of him. He covers his head with the cowboy hat with his ghastly smiling

Face. He carries his brief left-handed.

As the man in black begins walking

Toward the nowhere of desert, his ignorant

Feelings are ignoring.

The miserable carriage driver, who needed

Some money from him. The black in black’s chained keys go ‘jingling, jingling.’

The mysterious man’s figure was dimming

As the carriage driver drove away, ‘Oh, that man looked like a rotten ant

That wants to be squashed!’ It was the last time the driver had seen him walking

With his living legs. The man in black walks across the desert, later its weather changed

As the sandstorm began to be calming

Down. ‘This is it,’ whispering the man in black. ‘This is the tenement.’

Faintly, the old tenement appeared to be visible. He walks like a lording

Man around the rusty tenement as if it is his property. The lord sits on a rugged

Chair as it was set on the front porch. His chained go Jingling, Jingling.

When the sun crosses the stalking

Center of dark sky as if it is the moment

Of eclipsed darkness, the man in black is waiting.

Reaching for his pocket watch, terrified,

It ticks twelve o’clock. Deja vu. Waiting

For ten minutes more, he finally sets his left hand towards the scant

Space where the briefcase stands next to him. Two horsesare visible and coming

To his direction. Blurred,

Two men can be seen riding on their horses. Jingling, Jingling.

The mysterious man stands with the briefcase, knowing

That they want his gold. When the two riders are in the front

Of him, the man in black reached for his keys. Jingling, Jingling.

The briefcase is at last unlocked.

Gently, the man in black openly exposes the inside of his blacking

Briefcase to the two riders. ”Tis a joke? You wouldn’t want

To screw around with us gunslingers, do you?’ reacts one of two riders. ‘Screwing

Around with you,’ whispered

The man in black, ‘isn’t what I would do.’ Keys blurted out jingling, jingling.

The man in black was given the loosing

Briefcase back. He checked, and  gulped the hint

Of fear, for there was nothing

Valuable in the briefcase. The mysterious man puts his blackened

Hat down, pressing it against his chest. ‘We feel like that you are making

A fool out of us, so my partner here has something for you,’ says the mint

Haired minion. ‘What a bullock! It must be that driver from…….,’ mutters the hesitating

Man in black. Jingling, jingling ends his unfinished

Sentence as the minion pinned him down with a rope around his neck. Jingling, jingling.

The riders dragged the man in black back to his chair; forcing

His legs to rest. ‘I’ve been  waiting for a long time,’ says the arrogant

Leader. He untied a tied bag, his lips smacking.

The leader took out a thick and long dessert rattlesnake nicely and firmly. It rattled

As if it was getting excited. ‘No, wait a min-,’ echoing

The last grunting words of the man in black, getting his chin at a slant

Position by the minion’s hand. Just when his mouth opens like a delaying

Dawn, as forced by the minion, all he knew is that he felt a tingle, a

Thing that was moving throughout his throat. ‘Yes,’ answered the leader. Screaming.

A little more than sixty miles away from the tenement, the carriage driver was shouting

To his passenger, ‘I gotta tell ya, that no-good stubborn rotten ant

Sure ain’t worth a passenger.’ ‘Still, I feel bad like a depressed raining

Day that he had picked up the wrong briefcase,’ replied

The widow passenger. ‘I wonder what’s in this briefcase.’ The driver grunted, saying

To her ‘Oh, it’s probably nothing. After all, he’s a man with no money.’ At the instant

Moment, the passenger replied back ‘Yes, I suppose that you are right, it’s probably nothing.’

The widow passenger sets the brief aside next to her, and the driver muttered.

The chained keys created the noises as it bounced off the briefcase, jingling, jingling.

Jiri H. Stefanovich © Copyright 2010 All Rights Reserved.

℠ Bad Robot