Influences

            “My outlaws are bad outlaws.” Says the small boy in my care.

            I cringed and searched for a way to redirect him. “Outlaws have to be nice.”

            “No, they don’t. They’re going to steal the gold.” He informed me in his little boy logic.

            “We don’t steal.” I tried once more to make him see things my way. “Make your outlaws play nice.”

            “They’ll be nice until the bank gets here, then they’re going to rob it.”

            I tried again to redirect him. Robbing banks is not something to be encouraged. Lucky for me, my sister was there and stepped in to help.

            “Crystal, that’s the way you play.” She pointed out with a smirk firmly in place.

            I fought the urge to scream. Yes, I play outlaws and bank robbers. I’ve instigated a few hangings, and created more than a few shootouts. But that’s me. And I do it all with words. On the computer. I don’t have little plastic men with bandannas and Winchesters, nor do I have plastic women wearing Colts strapped low on their hips.

            I gave in gracefully.

            After all, how can I argue with their logic when they’re right? I do all those things and more. My outlaws are bad. They are mean. They shoot and pillage and… Well, they do all the things outlaws are supposed to do. And they do it while wearing guns.

            And my heroes?

            Have always been cowboys. Now they wear Colt Peacemakers low on both hips and they carry Winchester rifles and they shoot and sometimes kill to save the woman they love. Because…they are heroes.

            And they are mine.