Rathwaite Hensworth is my brother.

He killed or mortally wounded them three, yellow-back-striped, cowardly, woman killers in repetitive explosive bursts. He shot two through their hearts and one through the lung.

An impressive exhibition of gunplay, so say the drinkers at Failorrs Saloon.

Them three churlish men was so dispatched for bushwhacking, our mother, the widow, Missus Delores Hensworth.

This way laying was a response to the convoluted circumstances stemming from her plunging her kitchen knife into the eyeball with following travel through into the brain of one Carroll Roudell.

Carroll's folks saddled him with a girl's name, at least a portion of the local townsfolk inhabiting Montalba, Texas share this opinion.

Of course, such townsfolk is ignorant of European male Christian names.

Our mother, in a flash of lucidity, offed Mister Roudell in so far as he in a manner both dastardly and unmerciful, heaped torment on my brother and herself.

There... you've the short, if'n you want the long... We'll go on.