The Draw

My brother Dean and I watched every western we could get our hands on that summer. VHS tapes we'd beg mom to buy us from garage sales. Other ones we'd rent after biking to Videorama to get seven oldies for seven dollars.

I knew my dad didn't want me to go into his study, once I had glimpsed it in there when my dad was cleaning it and I wanted so badly to hold it.

Gleaming, bright silver with a white handle that shimmered in the light a revolver, like in every cowboy's holster.

I faked being asleep and sat up waiting to hear everyone else go to sleep. Then I hopped down from the top bunk and woke Dean up, who had been fast asleep on the bottom bunk. I knew he'd be so impressed. We crept into my dad's office down the hall. I stood on a chair and pulled the polished oak jewellery box down from the shelf. I hefted the gun out and smiled at the awestruck look on Dean's face.

It felt so good in my hand. We both held it and whispered about how heavy it felt. I thought I heard a sound coming from my parents room so I grabbed it back from Dean and picked up the box we had taken it out of. I crouched over the box for an extra second listening for my parents as Dean headed hastily for the door. I didn't hear a sound so I decided for one more game.

I stood with gun in my hand hanging down with the barrel pointed at the floor. I started to count backwards 'Threeee...'

Dean turned back around to face me. He smiled and held his hands out to his sides. Poised three inches away from his hips.

'Twoooo...'

His fingers wiggled, ready to pull his imaginary gun from its holster like it was high noon.

I stood with my my feet wide apart and my knees bowed out.

'One...'

We both narrowed our eyes. Both barely containing our laughter.

'Draw'