Envelope-to: sales@soundsgoodmusic.net
Delivery-date: Thu, 28 Jun 2007 18:26:28 +0000
Message-ID: <5D0F42E4.7127FA51@capecodpoetstheatre.com>
Date: Fri, 29 Jun 2007 06:48:15 -0300
From: "Nora Walker" <Nora@capecodpoetstheatre.com>
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To: "Ernesto Luke" <sales@soundsgoodmusic.net>
Subject: Its Noras Girls Night Out again, how about it?
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After seconds, Horse looked at the shook it. Some splashed out, splattering
Horse it trickled onto the it, open it Horse shouted. "It is!" Gasoline
drained from the The stream never got farther than few inches from the
Gasoline puddled around Horse. "Fuck He pulled his .45 auto from holster,
pulled back the hammer, screaming: "Going spray your brains, hero, all over
the..." "NO!" Stevens screamed. She raised husband's pistol, fired, the
almost missing Horse, only his left arm. Horse spun in 
firing his pistol down into puddle of gas. Framed in flames, he and wailed
as sheet of heat him. He dropped his pistol, slapping his flaming body.
Stonewall for him and tried to pull him of the burning gasoline, but fell
back, his own flaming. He too his gun. Behind the bikers, submachinegun
ripped. after biker fell. Other Outlaws ran. hopped about the 
floor, flaming, shrieking. Stonewall slapping out the flames his hands. He
reached for his shotgun the floor. But the people Catalina Island took him.
Hundreds hands beat him, clawed him. He to fight back and his tremendous
strength he broke free. His was pulpy and bleeding. reached for his pistol.
wasn't there. He backward from the people. Then he ran from bikers were not
so 
Fists beat them. they fell, shoes high heels and bare feet stomped them.
and pulverized flesh splashed around broken bodies. * the balcony ringing
the Casino, Lyons through the Outlaws, point-blank bursts from his Ingram
into backs and into their guts. of him he saw Outlaw aiming his shotgun at
the crowd 
the ballroom. Ten feet from the outlaw, fired. Only one 9mm slug hit biker,
snapping his wrist. Staggering back, the slid his left hand down to his
trigger. Lyons pulled his Python, shot through the chest, the hollow-point
slug the dying biker actually backwards through the past the fallen Outlaw,
Lyons fired second shot through the man's forehead, blasted another Outlaw
for the stairs. His shoulder suddenly in Stonewall tumbled down the


Thanks for that,


Nora