In Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild West, two is one too many.

Lassiter rode into Rawlings in a typical Wyoming, wind blowing sideways, storm, dismounted his steed, Blaze, and walked into Stella's Saloon. Standing at the far end of the bar was Jake "The Widowmaker" Bridger who took one step sideways away from the bar and squared up facing Lassiter who immediately stopped and assumed the position of a gunslinger, killer for hire. As their cold steely gray eyes met and locked all the patrons of the saloon scrambled and dove under the tables expecting a firestorm of lead in the air to erupt at any moment. For what seemed like an eternity, the two men stood frozen in time, feet spread shoulder width apart, waist coats flung back exposing leathered 44 Magnums, hands steady, poised ready to draw, no twitch, no tremor. Then magically the two killers stood down, walked to a table and sat down. Professional killers don't kill professional killers, it's professional courtesy. The Widowmaker said, "What brings you to these parts?" Lassiter responded, "Business, you?" The Widowmaker said, "Just drifting between jobs." Neither man said much. They didn't need to. They said more by saying nothing than most men say in a lifetime. Stella knew both men as well as you can know a stone cold, lone gunman, killer for hire and brought a bottle of Ardbeg Mor, 57.3 vol., with a straw color, phenol and tar nose, oily peat, brine and citrus taste, and long smoky finish. After savoring their drams, both men got up and walked out the door heading in opposite directions. Lassiter took three steps and slowly turned around to see the Widowmaker already facing him. The last thing the Widowmaker heard was Lassiter saying, "Its not personal, just business" as he squeezed the trigger sending a 44 magnum lead slug through the Widowmaker's cold, blackened heart. The territory just wasn't big enough for two lone gunman. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommy Maaltman on hard work and reputations in the Wild, Wild, West of Tommy Maaltman's World

Lassiter earned his reputation the hard way, on the business end of a Smith and Wesson 44 Magnum six shooter and his reputation preceded him wherever he went. The life of a stone cold, lone gunman, killer for hire, isn't pretty but a necessary life nevertheless. Men need to settle disputes, collect debts and protect their property. That is where a man like Lassiter fits in Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild, West. A gun for hire. No questions asked. Agree on a price. Do the job. Get paid and drift on. Colton Lassiter was no expert on ethics or morals and he certainly was no judge of mankind but he did know Cask Strenth Scotch Single Malt Whisky and one of his favorites, Lagavulin 12 year old, 57.8 vol., with a deathly pale color, restrained "nerves of steel" smoky nose, smoke, peat and Assam tea palate, and a strong, long firm smoky "sense of justice" finish. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild, West Lassiter says "leather it."

Lassiter stepped over the swinging doors of The Hole in the Wall Saloon where having been kicked one time too many, they fell on the ground after years of neglect, dry rot, and rusty hinges. With no one nearby with an ounce of ambition or the money to fix the doors, they would lay there until the rest of the saloon disintegrates and falls to the ground turning into dust in the dirty, dusty forgotten town of.........Forgotten. Upon entering the saloon, Jimmy, the sixteen year old third grade Frontier school drop out whose family was recently scalped and massacred in an Injun raid, recently having discovered rot gut rye whiskey six weeks before, stood up and drew his six shooter trying to make a name for himself. Lassiter said, "leather it" and calmly walked forward to within two inches of Jimmy's face and said, "Kid, there are two things in life that you should never do. One, don't draw a gun when you are drunk on a lone gunman dressed all in black leather who makes a living killing other men for fun and profit." Jimmy slurred, "Oh yeah, what's the other thing Mr. Lassiter?" "Don't never drink cheap rot gut rye whiskey. It will destroy your liver and rattle your brain." As Jimmy slid his gun back into his leather holster, Lassiter's two heavy fists came slamming down on Jimmy's shoulders breaking both clavicles in the middle rendering his arms and hands useless. Lassiter turned to Gums, the toothless, unshaven barkeep and flipped him a gold piece and said, "If Jimmy's broken bones mend and he can use his arms and hands again, get him a dram of Lagavulin, Distillers Edition, Double Matured, 43 vol. Finished in Pedro Ximenez Sherry casks, with a rich amber color, smoke and fish nose, smoke, peat, and Spanish Sherry taste, and long soft, smokey and gently spiced finish. While being spoon feed by some poor sole, Jimmy is going to have a long time to think about Lassiter's advice. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommy Maaltman's Lassiter hooks up with Kitty.

The doors of the Hole in the Wall Saloon were still swinging as a stream of expectorated tobacco juice sailed across the room landing on the toes of the shoes of Kitty the "rough ridden and put away wet" long time lady of the evening, plying her trade in the dirty, dusty forgotten town of Forgotten. Looking up from the puddle of brown, brackish fluid , she knew the lone gunman, dressed all in black leather, named Lassiter, was back and made a mental note to not stand so close to the spittoon in the future. Their eyes met and nothing more needed to be said. She instinctively walked behind the bar slapping the toothless, unshaven barkeep "Gums" to the side and grabbed the finest bottle of single malt whisky and two glasses. Lassiter was already sitting at a small round table when Kitty joined him, and he watched her pour a dram of Glen Moray Port Wood Aged, Limited Edition, with a full fool's gold color, lovely perfumey nose, rich body and perfumey sugar coated almond and after dinner malt taste and an extraordinary delicate finish, reminding Lassiter of Kitty, past and present but mostly past. Lassiter finished his dram and without saying a word got up and walked out the door. After all these years this one time it was Kitty's turn to pay. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommymaaltman.blogspot.com continues to grow and exceeds all expectations.

Many years ago tommymaaltman.blogspot.com was a little voice in cyberspace. Now look at it!!! Eight followers and three published comments. Could anyone ever have predicted this level of success? To celebrate this phenonenom let's each pour a favorite dram this evening. I'll not critique this one. I'm taking the rest of the year off. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year followers. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommy Maaltman's Wild, Wild, West. Lassiter meets the Gambler.

Kicking in the swinging doors of The Hole in the Wall Saloon, Lassiter knocked out the rotten two front teeth of the poor drunk standing too close on the other side. He scanned the room with his steely grey eyes and instantly there was stone cold silence. His face was as rough as the land he rode over and as dry as the floor of Death valley Desert. Dressed all in black leather with a day's ride worth of dust and grit, Lassiter walked to the round table where sitting with his back to the wall was the Gambler dressed in a fine black suit, Homburg hat, rattle snake skull Bolo tie and fine linen shirt, waiting to cheat some poor bastard out of his last two cents. Lassiter sat down across from the Gambler and said, "Its time someone taught you a lesson." Glancing at the toothless unshaven barkeep named, "Gums" Lassiter didn't have to say a word. He knew to bring him a bottle of the house's finest cask strength single malt Scotch whisky and two glasses. The Gambler started to shuffle his stacked deck of marked cards and as Lassiter cut the deck said, "How about all or nothing 5 card draw?'" Lassiter nodded, the cards were dealt and the Gambler's fate was sealed. Lassiter's discarded two cards and was dealt two more. The Gambler discarded one card and drew another. The Gambler said to Lassiter, " Show em," and Lassiter laid down his cards face up on the table showing a full house, Kings over Queens. After a poignant pause, the Gambler looked Lassiter in the eyes and said, "Too bad," as he laid his cards down on the table showing four aces and a Jack. Lassiter looked at the four aces and then into the Gambler's black eyes and said, "Turn over the rest of the deck so we all can see em." A single drop of perspiration appeared on the Gambler's ashen forehead. Seconds after the cards were all turned over showing several more aces at the bottom of the deck, Lassiter drew his 44 Magnum and squeezed the trigger sending a 246 GR lead round nose slug directly through the Gambler's black hardened heart. The Gambler fell back over in his chair and was dead before he hit the ground. All the eye witnesses in The Hole in the Wall agreed, he was a no good cheating scum bag and he was killed in self defense although the Gambler's gun was never found. Lassiter asked for several more glasses and poured all the eye witnesses a dram of Teaninich cask strength single malt whisky, 106.7, 61% with a deathly pale yellow color, strong wet cement nose, undertaker's phenol and grey tea taste, and powerful explosive gunpowder finish. Later that day the Gambler's body was dumped unceremoniously in an unmarked grave on Boot Hill. May he rest in peace. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

Tommy "Chicken Little" Maaltman screams, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!"

What's all the fuss about building a Mosque on the sacred grounds of 911 in lower Manhattan? I urge you to turn your attention to a more pressing concern. Tommy has it by good authority that the Flying Buttresses of Notre Dame de Paris Cathedral are disintegrating and the famous landmark will soon collapse into a pile of rubble. Tommy says that before this happens, to the Master Builder's chagrin, let's tear down the old gal and replace it with a white clapboard and red brick Christian Reformed Church! Out with the olde Kirk and in with the new Kirk. Sure some will argue that the old cathedral has special sentimental meaning to certain people. But with 1.7 percent of Europeans attending mass on a regular basis, they will get over it. Moreover, the new Christian Reformed Church will be open to everybody as long as you are willing to give up dancing and watching TV on Sundays. And while you are not dancing and watching TV on Sundays, why not enjoy a dram of BenRinnes 15 year old Flora and Fauna single malt scotch whisky, 43 vol. with a communion red dark brown color, sherry and burnt toffee nose, licorice and anise taste and a satisfying, soothing, spiritual finish. Amen brother. Slainte, chirp, chirp, Tommy Maaltman