Blakeney was most definitely drunk. He swayed on his chair and blinked, trying to make out which one of the Parkers sat across the table from him was the real one. "Your turn," Blakeney slurred. "Less'n you wanna gi'up?"
"Giv'up?" Parker mumbled in reply. "F'you." His right hand groped for one of the shot glasses set down between the pair. Then he lifted the glass to his mouth - careful not to spill its contents - and drained it to the dregs. "There!" With a shit-eating grin, Parker upended the glass and slammed it onto the table.
The crowd of onlookers counted to five, waiting for Parker to collapse. When it was obvious he was still conscious, they broke into cheers.
Eleven shots of whiskey each, so far. There was big money riding on this contest. Not only had the crowd been placing wagers on the alcoholic capacities and endurances of the two miners, the ownership of the Top Dollar mine was also at stake. Blakeney and Parker had originally been partners - friends, even. Together they had driven the first shaft, found the rich seams within. But, over time, their friendship had soured. Petty gripes turned into vicious disputes, until Parker and Blakeney could agree on only one thing: one of them had to go!
However, the pair were both stubborn men. Neither would budge, let alone surrender their stake in the Top Dollar mine. The townsfolk had feared that the dispute would end in violence, with one of the two dead and the other facing the noose for his crimes. Then Parker had come up with a more interesting solution.
"A drinking contest," Parker had declared. "Shot for shot. Last man standing wins. The other forfeits everything."
And so the two rivals had come to face each other in the town saloon.
Blakeney reached for another glass, took it and swallowed his shot of whiskey in one gulp. "Twelve to me," Blakeney said. "Your go."
There were only three full shot glasses left on the table. Parker selected one at random, drank from it and belched. "Twelve all." Then he started to laugh.
"What's so funny, boy?" Blakeney asked. Parker's braying laugh annoyed him, tempting him to punch his ex-partner in the face. Blakeney desisted. He didn't want to lose on a technicality.
Parker leant forward, winked and said in a loud whisper, "Guess what?"
"What?"
"I put poison in one of the glasses. Enough to drop a mule. I didn't want to chance losing,"
Blakeney gaped in astonishment and drunken anger. "You treacherous, little - !"
Parker waved an admonishing finger at him. "Know what's really funny? I'm so drunk, I forgot which glass I put it in."
Blakeney stared in horror at Parker, then at the two remaining shot glasses. "But ... "
Parker giggled. "'Sright." He reached for his last glass. "Bottoms up!"
