Milton 'Frisky' Farraday grinned as he set the bags of bills on the wooden table. The creaky old wooden table shook, as the money bags were slammed on them.
"Look at that loot and weep, boys! We're rich! Rich!"
His breath reeked of tobacco, whiskey and rotten teeth. Frisky had several rows of teeth missing that his boys often wondered how he even managed to chew on food at all. They wondered to themselves, but they didn't bring it up to Frisky, unless they wanted to risk getting lead poisoning from one of his peacemakers.
"We sure did it, Frisky! Their bank was just asking to be robbed right there!"
