"Poetry, Sergeant Fitzsimmons?" "Yes?" "Sir, Junior Frisbee just rode in." "Oh." "Well, have one of the men keep an eye on him as usual." "His thieving, murdering partner with him, I presume?" " In a matter of speaking, sir." " How's that?" "Ugh." "This here dirty old bag of bones was my partner for 30 years." "And do you know what he is now?" "He's dead, that's what he is." "Now, what do you gotta say about that?" "Well, I'd say bury him, Junior." "You don't even care who done it, do you?" " No, I don't." " Well, I'll tell you who done it." "Baker done it." "And you don't care why he done it, do you?" "I can't say I do, Junior." "Well, all Bill did here was kick his dog." "Just kicked his damn dog and Baker laid him out for the pearly gates." "And you're not gonna do a damn thing about it, are you?" " Nope." " How come?" "Ain't it your job to protect folks?" "And ain't it your job to protect good, clean, decent, white folks from the heathens?" "Well, ain't it?" "Well, I'd say he looks healthier than the last time I saw him, Junior." "How can he look healthier when he's dead?" "Must agree with him." "We was talking about protection." "Well, how many people would you say he's killed during his miserable life?" "Well, none that didn't deserve it." " How many have you killed, Junior?" " None that didn't deserve it." "Me and Bill was very particular about that." "We"