NO COUNTRY FOR OLD REVIEWERS 
 Rayner took the bolt of the Uzi and slid the firing pin on. He aligned the springs and dropped the housing in. He felt and made sure it was seeded properly. He got the barrel and pushed that down. It rotated and found the notch. Bryant rolled a thin one, tamping the tobacco, pinching off the surplus and returning it to the tin. There was a dog. 
 You fixin to make me flip a coin on you. 
 No I particular aint. 
 Don't look like it to me. 
 You shouldn't likely do this. 
 Well you know how this is goin to go when you done it. 
 I know they gone say I stoled it from you, I knows it. But I aint. It was the only way to do it. 
 Yep. You got that right. Stole it. 
 Dint stole nuthin. Likely cant be done no other way. Tried it ever which way. Dint come out right. 
 Rayner eased in a new clip, slid one into the magazine. Bryant watched the barrel. It was pointing at his gut. A dog poked ragged ears round the plywood door. Rayner moved the barrel three inches sideways and put a cartridge into its brains. The dog flew in a red arc about eight feet four inches in the air and landed somewhere they couldn't see. It yowled somewhat and then it didnt. 
 What you shoot a damn dog for. 
 Wasnt your dog. 
 Yeah wasn't my dog. Aint sayin. 
 Well, it might could be emphasisin a point here. Which you don't seem to of got. 
 Well, all right. You try an write a review of No Country for Old Men without doin it like in speech and like that. I'm getting tired of sayin cant be done. I knows you done it first. 
 You shouldna kindly stole it. I's thinkin we should flip a coin on thisn but we done here. 
 The bullet put a hole the size of a fair sized bag of cashew nuts in around the upper middle of Bryants front carpicles. Blood pooled over the plastic chair legs and the rough plywood floor. Bryants arm spasmed out onto the laptop and pressed SAVE. Rayner stepped around the dead man and went into the sun. He got into the Dodge pickup and started the engine. He let it idle for a while. He took the list from his front shirt pocket and took a pencil and crossed through Bryant's name. He studied the next name on the list then threw the Dodge into gear. 
 ***** 
 With apologies to my old GR friend Manny Rayner, who I firmly believe would never shoot a dog just to emphasise a point. I tried this where I shot Manny, and it was pretty funny, naturally, but also a little creepy assassinating a fellow reviewer, so I let him shoot me.