BRAWL!
It usually happened after everyone had downed their whiskey, and people were well into their cups and many lookin' bored, restless, and eager to thump someone. One fellow got it into his head that they wanted to challenge a fast gunman to prove they were better. It was the annoying part of being well-known. Pros and cons for everything. So when the big fellow who had lost at poker leaned against the bar and started eying Wally with mean thoughtfulness, many knew what was going to go down even before he did. Finally the big sore fellow staggered forward a step, coming into Wally’s space far more than was polite as he drank his second serving of milk.
“So they call you Kid Flash…”
Wally looked to the side as though noticing him for the first time, wiping at the milk mustache and grinning in friendly manner. “They do!”
“What kind of nancy-boy name is that?”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me, you limsy clod-eared mutton-headed gutter snipe. I called you nancy, and after watchin’ you, you’d make someone a better wife than a gunslinger.”
Some of the men chuckled in agreement. Wally just looked thoughtful. “Well, I do cook some mean hotcakes.”
The man slammed his bottle down on the counter. “I’m wantin’ you ta prove yerself, ya molocher wearin’, sappy kettled, yella-belly!” Wally tilt his head at him like he was confused. The mean group that had gathered closer was grinning like a bunch of coyotes at an injured goat. The man continued, face going from red to near-purple. “You dog-lickin’, sheep-sleepin’, four-flushin’ goney! Buzzard-ugly, skunk-smellin’, half-witted, weak-gutted, lily-livered, cow-patty brained, nanny-lookin’ piece o’ maggot meat!”
A heavy pause, Wally looking at him with a neutral face. Then suddenly he leaned toward Roy. “Did you get any of that?”
“I’M CALLING YA A COWARD!”
“Ohhh.” Wally tipped his chin down, voice lower. “Well, in that case.” He shrugged suddenly, hands spread. “Okay! I don’t think I am, but ever’ man to his opinion, I guess.”
“You son-of-a-bitch!” The man reached for his gun. “Dra-“ Shcklick! “-aw!”
The man was suddenly quiet and a soft "oooh" went up. The scuff of the gun coming free from the holster and the hammer cocking before it halted at his brow was so swift it had been a single sound. Then the big man realized something cold was touching the top of his hand firmly. He glanced down slowly at the other gun Wally had drawn, resting on top of his own drawing hand. The insulter’s colt was barely half out of the holster.
Wally’s eyes were steely for just a moment before he smiled again. “What say I have someone remove those from you, fella.” He nod to the bartender. “Then all of us can have some drinks, live and be merry! Whatcha say?”
The man was still while his holsters were removed and his guns taken from him by another. The group of unsavory men were no longer smiling, and instead glaring, drunk and still hoping for a fight. but the mood lightened considerably. Wally holstered his guns. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening without drawing, huh? I ain’t wantin’ to shoot at all tonight.”
It wasn't long after that when there was a sudden ruckus in the corner where the card game was going on. “What in tarnation-?” Wally started, turning to look. Then got clocked fully by the big guy.
The room exploded into a fist fight then, and it was hard to tell which corner it really started from.