Foot steps muffled by the dirt path for a moment before the porch creaked with each footstep, approaching the shack. A man stepped out, he had a paperbag for a face with a cowboy hat on, a white astronaut suit, matching brown leather bandolier and hip holster. Pointing a 1873 Cattleman Revolver at the tresspasser.

"This is private land, pardner. So, I suggest ya leave 'fore I decide t' do what I USUALLY do t' trespassers." The man's eyes narrowed, and his voice was a thick southern accent.