"We meet again Graylocks! This time, I have the drop on you. No more of your wheedling and waddling around like a ruptured duck with flat feet," Schnargfuisse pointed the Dan Wesson 357 Magnum with a six-inch barrel and ventilated rib at Garfin. Garfin's eyes crossed, desperate to see a bullet in the chamber.
"Well lord love a duck, Buck Schnargfuisse of the Space Patrol as I live and breath. I haven't seen you since Natasha Schtupanskaya made off with your prize ass and set up her act in Tijuana." Garfin rubbed his eyes like a baby and grinned like a chimpanzee getting ready to launch yesterday's recycled lunch at an innocent bystander.
"Don’t try to sweet talk me with memories of your lady love, bubula. We passed each other like ships in the night might pass a bad kidney stone -- much screaming, yelling, and thrashing, followed by grateful silence. That woman could wake the dead with her screams. A talent you might wish for after I get done ventilating your sorry carcass." Schnargfuisse waved the gun barrel trying to get Garfin to stand but he just sat unmoving. "Whatsa matter blubber-butt? Your ass suctioned to the chair again?"
"At least I don't smear Preparation H on my chest to make my nipples pop and my muscles buff and ripped to get girls." Garfin pulled out a shoehorn and shoved it under his buttocks. A squelching sound ripped the air as last night's kielbasa and sauerkraut ripped forth and blew the chair backwards leaving Garfin half-standing.
"And that's why we both have gray hair." Schnargfuisse cocked the hammer and squeezed the trigger. "Now beg for your sick, sad, pathetic life."
"Coitanly, Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk!" Both men raised their hands and whistled. "Waiter, schmeer two bagels and bring tea in glasses, fast!"