The sun stood high above Copperhead Gulch the day Slowhand Killey walked down Main Street. The early boozers fumbled their bottles of Woot wine, the late churchgoers crossed themselves, the cowhands spat, the ladies in bonnets stopped their Saturday shopping. All gasped at Killey's famously craggy face, the skull-shaped spurs on his boots, the wireless mouse in his holster. He slowed his stride to a stop outside Eugene’s Feed Store and stamped out a cigarette with one snakeskin heel.

“You listen to me, upstanding citizens,” Killey roared. “This here’s my town now. Everything here, and everything that goes on here, I get a slice from now on. I’ll be taking up residence wherever it pleases me for as long as it pleases me. Any fool who doesn’t like it can take it up with this gaming mouse on my holster. And in case you’ve never read my WANTED poster, let me remind you: they don’t call me Slowhand because I’m actually slow. It’s an ironic nickname, like calling a fat guy ‘Slim.’”

“Then I guess I could also call you ‘the guy who’s not going to die today.’” The crowd’s eyes widened in wonder and relief as Sheriff Lew Lucas stepped forward. “The only piece of this town you’ll be claiming is a patch in Potter’s Field. You ready to draw your last mouse?”

“I always did love to shoot a lawman,” Killey grinned. “It’s good practice for killing real human beings. Draw!” And in a millisecond that felt like forty-seven minutes, Killey saw his doom rising before him. Lucas wasn’t packing any old mouse: that was the Razer Copperhead Chaos Green 2000dpi Laser Gaming Mouse. The accuracy of its 2000dpi laser sensor, the super-fast response time, the easy-gliding teflon feet, the seven buttons programmable on the fly – Killey knew there was no way his mouse could overcome that. Then he was gone. Peace settled again over Copperhead Gulch. Lew Lucas wondered if he’d remembered to water his horse that morning. Across the little town, another day crawled onward, without Slowhand Killey.

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