If It's A Fight They Want, It's A Fight They'll Get!

(Originally by DanceDanceImmolation)

Texas was feeling just about sick of all this nonsense. She wasn't going to go kissing any ass today, figuratively or literally, and she wasn't going to play ball with this two bit sud-slinging heifer. As the footsteps behind her grew louder, she suddenly stood up and kicked the stool she had been sitting on behind her. There was a grunt of pain as it hit its mark, and Texas turned to see that a handful of goons had been spilled over each other by the surprise attack.

She turned around just in time to see Annabelle reaching behind her for the shotgun she had kept behind the bar, but before she could snag it, Texas scooped up one of the empty glasses on the bar and hurled it at the cow's head. It hit like a stone, shattering into bits on the cow's thick skull, and sending her head over heels. Annabelle hit the ground with a thud, her ass sticking out in the air. Which turned out to be the worst way she could've fallen, because the shock from that blow to the head caused her bowels to release, letting out a thick haze of her held in cow farts that spilled over the bar like a smoke bomb. Texas covered her face with her hat, rushing to get out of the bar and away from the stench, which had everyone else hacking and wheezing.

Texas ran out, coughing and barely holding onto her lunch, and from the looks of it most of the other patrons had done the same. In fact, they were so dazed from the stink that the'd be easy pickings for some quick interrogations. 'course, Annabelle was still inside the bar, and probably all alone. She'd probably be willing to sing now that she was in a much less favorable position.