"Wild West'' cliche.

Hotter then a two dollar pistol on the 4th of July. The two cowboys, both tough as nails. Stagger out onto the dusty tobacco road. Willing to fight till the end. Drawing their guns, like pulling chickens teeth. Pacing backwards like walking on egg shells. Both rapidly turn around, faster than a speeding bullet, and DRAW. Both guns fly out of their pockets. However no shots are fired. Both cowboys, more confused than a woodpecker in a concrete forest, though looking like a dog in a meat house, stopped dead in their tracks. Both of the cowboys running like they stole something, both in search for amunition. They both looked at eachother as if to say "whatever floats your boat", and that was the end of that. Be-all and end-all boys.