Synopsis/Details
Cripple Creek, Colorado, 1892. A dapper stranger steps off the stagecoach, immediately ruins his shoes in a pile of horse manure, and strolls into the local saloon looking for a glass of water. What he finds instead is eight of the meanest, most heavily armed gunfighters in the territory, who promptly bully him into buying rounds of whiskey. Leroux, seemingly outgunned and outmanned, takes it all in stride — and asks if he can draw.
What follows is one of the great slow burns in Western history. Leroux sketches a portrait, hands it to the ringleader, and calmly informs the man that it's a cat — because he looks like a pussy. All eight gunfighters draw. They never stood a chance. In seconds, the saloon is redecorated entirely in crimson, with only the ringleader left standing — right up until Leroux runs out of ammo and has to finish the job with a barstool. He then methodically produces a stack of wanted posters, matches each dead outlaw to his corresponding bounty, and photographs the results with a Polaroid camera. In 1892. The bartender, understandably, skips the glass and goes straight for the bottle.
Back in his apartment — a small, cheaply furnished place with a distinctly futuristic feel — Leroux adds his new Polaroids to a closet wall already covered with photos of dead Vikings, Roman gladiators, samurai, and medieval knights. The hobby of a man who takes his days off very seriously.
The final reveal ties it together with a grin: Leroux is a janitor at a top-secret time travel facility. His coworkers think he needs a more exciting hobby. He smiles and says nothing.
