Proverbs 18.6 (ESV): “A fool’s lips walk into a fight, and his mouth invites a beating.”
Rope in hand, Sheriff Longhorn strode to the middle of the road. The sun, not the advancing criminal, made sweat pour down his back. The wind kicked dirt into his face, making him sneeze.
“What do ya want, pardner?” said Mr. Lips, a two-timing liar from the hottest place on earth.
Sheriff Longhorn shook his head. “Last time you came ’round, the boys nearly sent you outta here in a body bag.”
“You wanna fight?” Ruddy as a sunset, Mr. Lips sauntered toward the sheriff, his silver spurs jangling with every step.
Sheriff Longhorn shielded his eyes from the glare coming off Mr. Lips’ diamond-studded vest. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll put you six feet under.”
Mr. Lips twirled his pistol. “You ain’t got a fast draw.”
With a deft motion, Sheriff Longhorn yanked the rope he held. A plank of wood dislodged from the nearby roof, knocking Mr. Lips right off his boots.
Mr. Lips spat dirt and fired his pistol.
As the bullet sailed through the sheriff’s hat, Sheriff Longhorn returned the favor. He didn’t miss.
Thus came the end of Mr. Lips. But rumor has it, his twin still haunts the street where his brother died, awaiting the day he will face Sheriff Longhorn.