
By Deidre Dykes
Daryl “Deadeye” Wilcox died on March 23, 1903, at 1:27 p.m. At about 3:00 that same afternoon, he took his usual stool at The Jackson tavern and ordered himself a white whiskey. The messy hole blown through his chest made drinking a little bit difficult, but Shoeleather, the weathered old barkeep, was more than used to this kind of incident. He toweled up the spilled liquid and offered the ugly, soaked rag to Wilcox. Daryl nodded his thanks to the barkeep, stuffed the whiskey-soaked towel firmly into his wound, and ordered up another drink. This time, he asked for a double.
Wow, that takes ‘can’t hold your liquor’ to a literal level… I liked the rustic humor feel. great job
This carries the term “tall tale” to a whole nother level. Liked it!