Writing The Western Update IX: Dante Egg Is Too Late-Again

Dammit. Same town. Same street. Male, early 20s. Another kid. And a mule.

Dammit.

Again, it all happened in broad daylight. Still no one will talk to me. People seem a little happier- apparently, nobody liked this guy. Or the mule. Still, we must have law and order around here. I mean, without out that, we're no better than animals, aren't we?

The guy was armed, I know that much. Maybe it was self defense. Maybe it wasn't. I checked the magazine- it was empty. Either he was trigger happy and a terrible shot, or whatever killed him couldn't be taken down by ordinary bullets.

Andrew Sherwood. Of course. Why would The Author write his own demise?

Dammit. Looks like I'm gonna need a bigger gun.

If Sherwood's blog and outlines are any indication, he's plotting more deaths. He's got one guy asking another if he'll avenge his son, for Pete's sake.

I'll say it again, people, vigilante justice doesn't do any good. Please, if you've seen Sherwood, drop me a line. If you don't, the next character to drop dead could be someone really sympathetic.