Day of the Beards

I heard a rustling sound from the corridor and glanced knowingly at Joe. “They’re back.” Together we flung open the door and fired our revolvers at the horde of beards gathering outside. We shot dead perhaps five of the beards and the rest scattered, but they would return before long, and the fact of the matter was there were more beards in the night than there were bullets in the drawer. I poured another glass of whiskey to steady my nerves. Joe flicked open his revolver and calmly slid another round into each chamber. Outside we could hear a dragging sound as the beards carried their fallen comrades away. They’d be back. They’d be back soon.