cowboys shooting out over the hand of a beautiful mexican girl. However there could only be one. In the end the brave thin eyed cowboy falls leaving the beautiful lady to her new lover.
one question…. what if she doesn’t like him cuz he has a small penis or something? lol
I don’t know what I can say about shootout. I may have never used the word itself for any purpose. I may have read it but in a place of no importance. Maybe that’s because I am not interested in anything that is even remotely relevant to it.
My brother narrows his eyes. We are going to win this shootout against those 8 year old kids in light up vests. We step into the fog. I smile at the lights with excitement, even though I know I’m going to lose.
I can’t hear anything. What is so loud in the room? I cannot tell, all I know is that I am hurting. Why can’t the noise just stop? It impedes on everyones life, even my own because I can’t think. But when I finally open my eyes I see myself and see in the mirror a newly cracked mirror. I notice that the sounds had come from within me. A shootout to God to come and save me.
Old Westerns romanticized the shootout; living in a city has brought me to the gritty nature of them. People DIE. Death stops the neighborhood in its tracks; the college students fear to tread on the East side of town. Businesses and families hurt.
The silence stretched between the two men as the proverbial dust bowl rolled between them. They stared menacingly at each other, hands twitching at their holsters until… “Cut! You lousy sons of whores!” The director ran from the sidelines to stand between the two, glaring as though his world were falling apart and it was all their fault. “You will never be actors! I hope you never work again because you can’t even stare each other down correctly. Go, go home right the hell now before I throw you out!”
I brought my ukelele to the shootout, and prepared to do battle.
The man with the bazooka went down easily, tuned in high C.
With my low E, I layed the shotgunning man flat, while my compatriot on the banjo took out the machine gunner with a lively fandango.
It was down to the final two.
We strummed our stings, and began the duel.
Bam. Bam. Bam. The gunshots could be heard from a thousand miles away. Garrett Miller looked up from under the table he was hiding. Here, he saw his fellow classmate Michael Tosio with a gun in his hand, and wearing a white tshirt soaked with blood.
There was a shootout in school. An angry kid was so upset with the bullies that he decided to shoot them. He went throughout the whole school and shot all the people who had ever been mean to him. Down the halls and through the
Gun shots rang out into the night as officer Harington let an empty clip fall from his 9 mm pistol. The sound of it hitting the black asphalt was masked by continuous fire from the enemy fifty yards ahead of him. His partner lay dead just a few feet from him. He was alone with only two clips left until backup would arrive. His heart pounded in his chest as he slid his second clip into the pistol. He thumbed back the hammer and rose up from behind his squad car to see muzzle flashes illuminating dark figures running towards him. He inhaled slowly as his eyes adjusted down the barrel.
A brick wall may feel like it’s strong enough to protect me, but in this shootout, I know better. I try to find a clear path, an invisible path. I need to get out of here. I turn and see him telling me to fall back. He will take care of it.
there was a shootout on the corner of east 31st and broad street; two gangs, the terrified bystanders supposed, with some bad blood in between them. blood was pooling on the roads beneath their feet, trickling into the cracks in spools and threads and finely-knit streams of crimson red, and the shootout died down with a sobbing crack.
Violence and hatred is taking over our society today. Can we get help? Can we improve? Or will it end in fighting in the streets and killing each other over stupidity? We see things like shootouts on the news. We see the children dying. We say “How sad”. And go on with life. It’s an epidemic. It must change.
I hate shootouts. Mexico has shootouts. I live in Mexico so I have to hear and sometimes see shootouts. Because of shootouts my brother has traumas. Because of shootouts we can’t get out of my house too late because it is dangerous. I hate shootouts. I dearly wish they would have never existed.
I packed all my supplies in the smallest bag I could find and threw it over my shoulder. Tonight was the last time, everything ended here. It was going to be a shootout, that much was true, but I had good faith that I would win.
one hot day in the middle of the night two dead boys got out to fight back to back they faced each other drew their swords and shot each other the deaf police man heard the noise and killed the two dead boys if you dont believe my story is true ask the blind man he saw it too.
I had a shootout with my friend the other day. It was the most awful thing. I killed her. I didn’t mean to, honestly. But it happened. And now I must live with my guilty conscience. I am a murderer.
Game 7 shootout. Bright lights. Crazy crowd. Pressure. Like a schoolgirl in heat, sweat drips from his jock strap. He skates up, shoots and clangs it off the crossbar! Choke!
I am running and ducking behind anything I can find. I can here the pings and the whizzing of the bullets screaming by my head and thinking how crazy this is. I never thought it would amount to a shootout between the town and the outlaws.
Bang. The shot rang out across the school yard. Tommy had finally defeated Billy in their imaginary shootout. Billy wet his pants and ran off toward the monkey bars. Tommy ran around in circles shouting “I shot Billy in the underwear!”
There ain’t no need for a shootout, man. Dexter grabbed hold of the beefy fist gripping his collar and yanked it loose. Now fck off! The beefmeister staggered back with a tatter of Dexter’s shirt waving like goodbye between his fingers, and he hit the bar with a roar of pain. His eyes rolled back and around and he focused and rallied but Dexter was gone.
They were in the street and there was a mix up with the fruit purchased at the store. These days, such a small thing could lead to big consequences….such as this. The sweat gathered on her forhead. She was afraid, but she was not giving up her peaches. Not now, not ever.
when two wild west guys turn and shoot towards each other. one guy might hit the other guy. they might both hit each other. usually a lady in a dress screams and there is a bar nearby. usually the shootout partakers might be angry. might be drunk. might be both. they miss their daddies.
I was the fastest draw in the West. No one could prove me different, they are all yellow-bellied skunks. Looking away when I pass, they lived in fear. Two words: Early Retirement.
How many were dead? I didn’t know. They all seemed to become one mass on the television screen. The way the camera hovered over them was like the cameraman was expecting someone to jump up and go, “KIDDING!” But no one did. It wasn’t a game show. It wasn’t a reality show. This was real. And we were watching it like a poor kid’s entertainment while the gunman laughed his ass off.
The shoot out between the two cowboys lasted hours. They kept running out of bullets and having to call time out to run to the store to get more. The towns people were starting to get very annoyed of it.
What a shootout this has turned into. I mean, one moment we’re sitting there, having our iced coffees the same as normal; then, boom, boom, boom! I must have said something to start it off, as it always seems to be me. But she sure missed no time getting in her rapid-fire responses before I could even think of how I had even offended her.
so a pirate walks into a bar and pulls out a squid that can shoot stuff from its mouth and he says “gimme all the money or everyone gets shot” so then everyone in the bar ducks and he shoots the squid and out comes this foamy stuff so then the bartender gives him the money and he leaves
“good job squidy” he says
I don’t know what a shoot out is. Maybe its like when you go and like shoot people out of a car window or something. maybe a house. why am i even doing thisbecause it semed funI i llke have to remeber about this when i’m at school because it seems worth it and i have nothing to do in tutorials. Maybe a shoot outs a photo shoot thats a lot less vilont.
Clacclackaclack, bash, and they’re on the ground. All of them. One of them through a bullett to the chest, collapsed and died. The other through the shock of watching his victim collapse before him. So heinous an enemy, such crucial revenge, the confrontation so intense; yet the searing cut of metal through flesh shook him out into a new reality.
he looks the man straight in the eye with a look of doubt about what he might be doing but qiuckly that look vanishes and he shoots the man straight in the chest and opens fire on the whole room, with anger filling his body
it kinda sounds like shout out.
theres this girl when i was in highshool that made a shout out to these two guys sayong “ill bring the mayo” she was pretty much made fun of for the rest of highschool
cowboys shooting out over the hand of a beautiful mexican girl. However there could only be one. In the end the brave thin eyed cowboy falls leaving the beautiful lady to her new lover.
one question…. what if she doesn’t like him cuz he has a small penis or something? lol
I don’t know what I can say about shootout. I may have never used the word itself for any purpose. I may have read it but in a place of no importance. Maybe that’s because I am not interested in anything that is even remotely relevant to it.
My brother narrows his eyes. We are going to win this shootout against those 8 year old kids in light up vests. We step into the fog. I smile at the lights with excitement, even though I know I’m going to lose.
I can’t hear anything. What is so loud in the room? I cannot tell, all I know is that I am hurting. Why can’t the noise just stop? It impedes on everyones life, even my own because I can’t think. But when I finally open my eyes I see myself and see in the mirror a newly cracked mirror. I notice that the sounds had come from within me. A shootout to God to come and save me.
The gunslinger stood, waiting. Watching. His enemy stared back. In the hot sun both shot, and both fell.
Guns a’ blazin’, high noon beckoning, heart at the holster. Shoot first rather than be shot down. Shoot to kill.
Old Westerns romanticized the shootout; living in a city has brought me to the gritty nature of them. People DIE. Death stops the neighborhood in its tracks; the college students fear to tread on the East side of town. Businesses and families hurt.
The silence stretched between the two men as the proverbial dust bowl rolled between them. They stared menacingly at each other, hands twitching at their holsters until… “Cut! You lousy sons of whores!” The director ran from the sidelines to stand between the two, glaring as though his world were falling apart and it was all their fault. “You will never be actors! I hope you never work again because you can’t even stare each other down correctly. Go, go home right the hell now before I throw you out!”
I brought my ukelele to the shootout, and prepared to do battle.
The man with the bazooka went down easily, tuned in high C.
With my low E, I layed the shotgunning man flat, while my compatriot on the banjo took out the machine gunner with a lively fandango.
It was down to the final two.
We strummed our stings, and began the duel.
Bam. Bam. Bam. The gunshots could be heard from a thousand miles away. Garrett Miller looked up from under the table he was hiding. Here, he saw his fellow classmate Michael Tosio with a gun in his hand, and wearing a white tshirt soaked with blood.
There was a shootout in school. An angry kid was so upset with the bullies that he decided to shoot them. He went throughout the whole school and shot all the people who had ever been mean to him. Down the halls and through the
Gun shots rang out into the night as officer Harington let an empty clip fall from his 9 mm pistol. The sound of it hitting the black asphalt was masked by continuous fire from the enemy fifty yards ahead of him. His partner lay dead just a few feet from him. He was alone with only two clips left until backup would arrive. His heart pounded in his chest as he slid his second clip into the pistol. He thumbed back the hammer and rose up from behind his squad car to see muzzle flashes illuminating dark figures running towards him. He inhaled slowly as his eyes adjusted down the barrel.
A brick wall may feel like it’s strong enough to protect me, but in this shootout, I know better. I try to find a clear path, an invisible path. I need to get out of here. I turn and see him telling me to fall back. He will take care of it.
there was a shootout on the corner of east 31st and broad street; two gangs, the terrified bystanders supposed, with some bad blood in between them. blood was pooling on the roads beneath their feet, trickling into the cracks in spools and threads and finely-knit streams of crimson red, and the shootout died down with a sobbing crack.
I have no idea what this word means, so I’ll just write something random instead. BEEF.
Violence and hatred is taking over our society today. Can we get help? Can we improve? Or will it end in fighting in the streets and killing each other over stupidity? We see things like shootouts on the news. We see the children dying. We say “How sad”. And go on with life. It’s an epidemic. It must change.
I hate shootouts. Mexico has shootouts. I live in Mexico so I have to hear and sometimes see shootouts. Because of shootouts my brother has traumas. Because of shootouts we can’t get out of my house too late because it is dangerous. I hate shootouts. I dearly wish they would have never existed.
I packed all my supplies in the smallest bag I could find and threw it over my shoulder. Tonight was the last time, everything ended here. It was going to be a shootout, that much was true, but I had good faith that I would win.
one hot day in the middle of the night two dead boys got out to fight back to back they faced each other drew their swords and shot each other the deaf police man heard the noise and killed the two dead boys if you dont believe my story is true ask the blind man he saw it too.
Unfortunately for both the staff and the customers, a shootout of this magnitude left no one, and nothing, alive.
I had a shootout with my friend the other day. It was the most awful thing. I killed her. I didn’t mean to, honestly. But it happened. And now I must live with my guilty conscience. I am a murderer.
He rode into town ready for the shootout or was it the shortcut? Hmm he didn’t remember which one he came for.
schezz bin
Game 7 shootout. Bright lights. Crazy crowd. Pressure. Like a schoolgirl in heat, sweat drips from his jock strap. He skates up, shoots and clangs it off the crossbar! Choke!
I am running and ducking behind anything I can find. I can here the pings and the whizzing of the bullets screaming by my head and thinking how crazy this is. I never thought it would amount to a shootout between the town and the outlaws.
Bang. The shot rang out across the school yard. Tommy had finally defeated Billy in their imaginary shootout. Billy wet his pants and ran off toward the monkey bars. Tommy ran around in circles shouting “I shot Billy in the underwear!”
There ain’t no need for a shootout, man. Dexter grabbed hold of the beefy fist gripping his collar and yanked it loose. Now fck off! The beefmeister staggered back with a tatter of Dexter’s shirt waving like goodbye between his fingers, and he hit the bar with a roar of pain. His eyes rolled back and around and he focused and rallied but Dexter was gone.
Shootout? I think of guns. Guns and cowboys. Back to back. Count to three. Turn around. The bullet decides the winner.
They were in the street and there was a mix up with the fruit purchased at the store. These days, such a small thing could lead to big consequences….such as this. The sweat gathered on her forhead. She was afraid, but she was not giving up her peaches. Not now, not ever.
when two wild west guys turn and shoot towards each other. one guy might hit the other guy. they might both hit each other. usually a lady in a dress screams and there is a bar nearby. usually the shootout partakers might be angry. might be drunk. might be both. they miss their daddies.
I was the fastest draw in the West. No one could prove me different, they are all yellow-bellied skunks. Looking away when I pass, they lived in fear. Two words: Early Retirement.
How many were dead? I didn’t know. They all seemed to become one mass on the television screen. The way the camera hovered over them was like the cameraman was expecting someone to jump up and go, “KIDDING!” But no one did. It wasn’t a game show. It wasn’t a reality show. This was real. And we were watching it like a poor kid’s entertainment while the gunman laughed his ass off.
Guinness McCallahan
The shoot out between the two cowboys lasted hours. They kept running out of bullets and having to call time out to run to the store to get more. The towns people were starting to get very annoyed of it.
What a shootout this has turned into. I mean, one moment we’re sitting there, having our iced coffees the same as normal; then, boom, boom, boom! I must have said something to start it off, as it always seems to be me. But she sure missed no time getting in her rapid-fire responses before I could even think of how I had even offended her.
so a pirate walks into a bar and pulls out a squid that can shoot stuff from its mouth and he says “gimme all the money or everyone gets shot” so then everyone in the bar ducks and he shoots the squid and out comes this foamy stuff so then the bartender gives him the money and he leaves
“good job squidy” he says
I don’t know what a shoot out is. Maybe its like when you go and like shoot people out of a car window or something. maybe a house. why am i even doing thisbecause it semed funI i llke have to remeber about this when i’m at school because it seems worth it and i have nothing to do in tutorials. Maybe a shoot outs a photo shoot thats a lot less vilont.
Clacclackaclack, bash, and they’re on the ground. All of them. One of them through a bullett to the chest, collapsed and died. The other through the shock of watching his victim collapse before him. So heinous an enemy, such crucial revenge, the confrontation so intense; yet the searing cut of metal through flesh shook him out into a new reality.
he looks the man straight in the eye with a look of doubt about what he might be doing but qiuckly that look vanishes and he shoots the man straight in the chest and opens fire on the whole room, with anger filling his body
it kinda sounds like shout out.
theres this girl when i was in highshool that made a shout out to these two guys sayong “ill bring the mayo” she was pretty much made fun of for the rest of highschool