And to complete their mockery of my cool and calculated persona, the false gods united my assassin and I on the mall (before I could even do my Facebook research): a duel to the death.

He says, “There ain’t room enough in this Swanson for the both of us.” I says, “You no good derty varmint, hitch hike yer way oughta town”. A tumbleweed rolled away between us.

Sheriff Schlegle, knowing my reputation as a sure bet for victory, turned to a squirrel and suggested that they “better start carvin’ Josh’s name in a stone”.

The rest is history.

Good round Josh. Thanks for going with class.