Editing Four of Clubs: 'Fools Gold'

Four of Clubs "Fool's Gold"

Casey Clement was once a good kid, bit scrawny for his age but determined. Both his parents died when he was a youngin' an' he grew up alone. The day of his eighteenth, he went out west, to North California, to rustle up some gold to line his pockets. Clement worked for years an' years, slowly goin' Norther and Norther, 'til one day he woke up an' found himself pannin' near a preetty ol' lake in the Yukan.
He had spent his nights at a goldhunters camp with a bunch of other men seeking to line their own pockets. All this time, Casey Clement was jus' gettin' bigger an' bigger. By the time he hit this lake, he'd gone from skin'n'bones to a mountainous man. He was well liked an' was enjoyed in the company of the others. He could hold his liquor and would play card games all night long if given the chance.

One night Casey found hisself playing a game of pinochle with a bunch of loons and broads, he was pullin' winnin' hands all night but kept the spirits of the others up with rounds on rounds. But alcohol can only persuade someone so much and soon Clements company left. Some time after the others had gone up and shacked with their various mates, Casey Clement sat alone in the bar with only the tender for company.

"I thinksssssss, I'll be havin' one more, Joe..... Joe! JOE! I wanna 'nother beer, man."

Joe looked up and called out, "Goddammit, Clement. Last call was two hours ago."

"Be a pal... man *hic* and let me have 'nother... ummm... pint... yeah thasssit *hic*. I'll payss you double.... No, triple."

Not willing to let such an opportunity to tear into the purse of such a hopeless drunk go, Joe gleefully obliged an' hurried into the back. As he walked out, another man walked in. A biggun, not like Clement mind, but big enough.

---

He approached Clement at his table and laid down a deck of cards, a pack that look liked it was brought right out of the 12th century.

"I hear you'se a lucky man, Clement. How's 'bout we play a game and see how lucky you are?"

Immediately sobering up*, Clement turned and looked at the man trying to discern his facial features. "What kinda game?"

"Well a card game, any'll do." replied the man.

"What's your wager?"

"No wagers. Just a test of luck. Lets see... will you pick a card?" The man fanned out the cards and held them out to Casey Clement. Slowly, Clement obliged the man and pulled a card: The Four of Clubs.

As he held it, Clement noticed that the card had the clubs centered with a single gold coin. He looked up to ask the other man about it, but he was gone.

"Fuckin' waste of time," cursed Clement throwing his card onto the table, where it slid across the surface and fell off of the other side with a heavy thud.

---

A thud? Clement nearly flipped the table over in his attempt to see what happened. There, on the ground, was the prettiest God-Damned rifle he had ever saw. With a stock made of ivory, surely, and four barrels made of silver, the gun nearly made Clement drool.

He held the weapon up in reverence, inspecting it closely, now. The ivory was inlaid with jade in the shape of leaves and had a single cold coin surrounded by four gold and green jade clovers. He sighted the weapon just as Joe walked back into the room.

Instantly upon seeing the weapon, Joe dove behind the counter and came up with a gun of his own, a little slug tosser.

"Give me that purty weapon and I won't have to be a blasting you, Clement."

"Joe, I wasn't gonna shot ya. I just was lookin' at..."

"I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK! GIVE ME THE GUN OR I'LL GIVE YOU ANOTHER HOLE TO SHIT OUTTA!"

Clement turned slowly towards Joe and then with the speed of a trained gunsman, he fired off all four barrels before Joe could even think to react. Joe dropped deader than anything he had ever seen. The gun itself was flowing with a hot viscous liquid that burned and cracked the wood of the floor. It was gold, pure liquid gold.

Casey Clement went over to the body and saw the damage he'd done. Joe's body was covered in bleedin' sores each matched with a single golden pellet, like those outta a shotgun.

Clement stood up, cursed Joe as a fool, left the bar, hitched up his horse and left town.

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