In soviet Russia, doorbell ring you. But here, I ring doorbell. This is a terrible title, and now look how it drags on. Learn from my failures, children! NEVER FORGET!

I reviewed reviews of Unforgiven recently. Maybe that's why its in my head...Image via Wikipedia

I rang the doorbell.

Nobody answered, and I considered going home. But then, my training kicked in. Reaching out tentatively, I caressed the button again, sending sensual chimes throughout the house.  This time, I was answered.

A man, dressed head to toe in sheepskin, opened the door and looked at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, continuing the tentativeness that had dominated earlier affairs.

“No.” He replied. “anyway, you rang my doorbell. I should be helping you.”

“Ok.” I replied, less tentative now, “In that case, can you give me a hand killing someone? There’s a thousand dollars in it...”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then cocking his head to one side, he asked:

“Who are they?”

“Two cowboys.” I answered. “They cut a prostitute up pretty bad.”

"Wait... Is this just the plot to Unforgiven?” he asked.

I turned tail and fled. My tentativeness had gotten the better of me.
 I wonder why he was wearing so much sheep...