The stranger saddled up to the bar. He slammed a fist into the bar-proper (his brand) that sent bottles and glasses shaking. “Vanilla Milkshake.” He turned to eye the others in the saloon. “He who laughs first, dies!”
“Who are they?” He indicated the people milling about behind me drinking milk shakes.
“They are my crew. My homies. My bros. I call them Milli Vanilli.”
“Son, you need either skill or luck in this world. God granted you with neither. You gotta work for what you want in life. If I were you, I’d work for skill. Knowin’ you, I’d stay as far away from luck as you can.”