I don’t answer to you and I’m certainly not going to listen to your smartass mouth. I’m suggesting to you right now that you get your ass out of...that chair and head towards the front door,” I suggest to Michael.“And if I don’t. There really isn’t anything that you can do about it,” Michael says to me in a smart-mouth manner.“How much do you want to bet that I can have you on the floor tied up, so you look like a calf at the rodeo. Care to challenge me?” I say to him, now really pissed off.“Go. ”They stood there looking back and forth at each other and then me. “Now!” I bellowed, “Move it, Move it. Move it.”I was hard-pressed not to laugh as three cute little fannies scurried for the stairs. It got harder when they were back downstairs, buttoning, zipping, and tying with frightened doe looks on their faces, inside of the designated 10 minutes.“Alright, ladies, follow me.” And like a troop of baby chicks, they followed me out the door.The first stop was the porch. I pointed out the. The dead man wore clean clothing, old but kept in good repair. His hat was a stetson, like the one Alex wore, but grey in color, and it was stained with sweat. The man also wore sensible western boots with high heels; the kind that made it almost impossible for one's foot to slip through the stirrup and get caught. His hair was short, brown and roughly cut, but his beard couldn't have been more than a day old. He wore a Smith & Wesson .38 special, double-action revolver with a six inch barrel. She was shouting something at the crowd and shouting something at others, which was not understood by anybody. Even elders were there, but no one cared to save her. Instead they were laughing at her and making fun of her. Anish was passing through the same street. Anish a man around 45 is manager in a nationalized bank. He is well built and very kind. He is appointed since last few years at this place. He is staying alone, his family staying away from him due to his frequent transfers. May be.