Johnny rode into town in the middle of the afternoon, maybe sometime around four o'clock. His clothes stank of kicked up dirt and unwashed odor. He'd taken to his horse early that morning, still blind drunk from the last saloon he'd partaken at. 

Now, he was here in another nameless small town out west. A sign near the main road read 'Sand Flats' as his horse galloped pass the townsfolk. Johnny must of been a sight, a stranger with dark clothes and a darker horse coming out of nowhere aiming straight for the old Sandy Rose Saloon. 

Johnny's buzz was almost dead, the hard whiskey from last night evaporating from his system faster then he'd like. Fear ate at his soul like a festering curse, but some good old poison would fix him up quick. Right outside the saloon Johnny tied up his horse, a content guy who had his fill of water and food the last town they rode from.

The man some called a Rat looked around Sand Flats for a moment before heading inside the saloon, taking in the barren dust around him. Place seemed so dry that Hell must of looked like an oasis in comparison. Johnny headed inside quickly, dodging a gust of wind and dust as he entered the saloon.

A catchy tone played through the whole place as he entered, something simple and fun to drink too. Almost no one else was around except for a few employees and a fine woman in finer clothes. Johnny tried his best not to stare or goggle, rushing his way to the bar and placing an order partly in gibberish.

"Whisky. Bourbon. Something quick now!"