Jimmy was a guy whose life wasn't on track. He had all the questions but none of the right answers. He was 24 years old; fresh out of MIT he had gotten his doctorates in advanced technologies, quantum mechanics, quantum physics, and astrophysics. He was an intelligent man who just needed more time to get things together. Jimmy mostly blamed his past for his "writer's block" of life.

Jimmy didn't have an easy child hood. His father died when he was 13 in a laboratory explosion. His mother drank in excess. She died in a car wreck when Jimmy was 16, and he lived with his grandparents for two years. Then he went to college. Thank goodness, he had gotten away from his grandfather's stories of the old west. The stories in which the outlaws would steal gold but most of all he hated the fictional stories of Jerkin' Jeff the outlaw and robber. Jimmy's grandfather spoke as if he had lived in the age of the frontier.

Perhaps it was the fact that Jimmy couldn't let go of his past, which made it difficult for him to succeed in the present, and this would definitely mess up the future for Jimmy. Jimmy just couldn't let go of his mixed emotions for his past. On one hand Jimmy was appalled at his mother for her drinking to the point it got her in that car accident and she ran into a telephone pole killing her. Leaving Jimmy with his grandparents. But yet Jimmy was also mournful about his parents' death, which in some ways encouraged Jimmy to succeed in college. But Jimmy being the emotional cocktail that he was just couldn't take any more.

Jimmy strolled down the street trying to keep his mind clear. He wanted to call out to God and ask what he had done wrong in life. But instead he walked into an old rickety bar. He noticed he was the only person in the bar and felt pity for the old bartender. He ordered up a Miller Light. However the bartender insisted he have a special drink. Jimmy generally did not drink hard liquor but today he was feeling particularly unhappy. The bartender asked about Jimmy's life. "How are things going son?" the bartender asked with concern.

The bartender could see a look in Jimmy's eyes that only a man on the edge would possess. There is always something more then what meets the eye. This applied nicely to what the bartender, John, was about. Unknown to Jimmy, John had some magical power, but most of his power rested in his ability to judge if a person is able to be helped, and will bounce back. Sometimes it took just a few friendly words and a pat on the back, but other times it took something more dramatic to "pop" someone back in place. Jimmy needed to be popped. John just hoped it wasn't too late.

Jimmy asked the bartender his name, then told him all about his problems. John couldn't get past that look in Jimmy's eyes. He had seen that look before it was in a man who decided the only way out was the way of the gun. John was not going to let this happen to Jimmy. "My name is John. It sounds like you have some problems."

"I came across this strange silver gun a few months back," John said with a hopeful look in his eyes. Jimmy slightly drunk but always interested in the strange and unusual took a look at it. It appeared to be a prop from an old western movie. John told Jimmy to keep it.

Jimmy walked out of the bar. That look the bartender had seen was more distinct now. Hell-bent on solving his problems, Jimmy eyed the revolver in his hand. He couldn't figure out why the gun looked so strange. He had shot his father's gun before. However this gun had an almost fictional look to it. That was of no consequence to Jimmy who checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded, six bullets. These bullets also looked strange to Jimmy; there definitely was something odd.

As he opened the door to his now empty apartment his eyes set upon the computer screen. There was a figure going around in a maze with no strategy. It reminded Jimmy own is own life. As hard as Jimmy tried he just couldn't make sense of his life. Jimmy came to the conclusion that life wasn't fair and it never would be.

He set the revolver on the kitchen table and sat down. He began to shake; he knew what he was going to do. He would find a way out.  He picked up the revolver and placed his finger on the trigger. Oh how he wished he had another chance at life.

Meanwhile down the street in that old rickety bar sat John, an old man with a smile on his face. "You did good," John said to himself with happiness and a touch of pride.

Jimmy pulled the trigger and was stunned by the brilliant colors revolving around him. Well this is the end Jimmy thought to himself.

Then light poured over his quivering body. He caught a glimpse of the revolver in his hand then of the dust like dirt under his feet. "What the...." Jimmy's voice was cut off by a gunshot that hit the revolver in his shaking hand. Someone was trying to shot him. He saw a figure on a beautiful horse that looked as strong and as fast as it did pretty. The figure shouted, "Come here ya Indian sack of cow dung."

Jimmy ran hard to the town on the horizon. He fled down the dirt streets, thinking he lost his pursuer. The town's people were eyeing him. Jimmy didn't care, he grabbed, a newspaper out of a man's hand s and read the date, Jan 5th, 1882. Jimmy dropped the paper in disbelief. Jimmy backed into the something hard; he turned around only to find the same horse and the same man as before.

"Got ya," the man said proud, "Bout time we had a hangin'."

Jimmy swallowed hard, and then he remembered the revolver in his hand. I only have 5 bullets left. I couldn't take out everyone with 5 bullets. I will have to think of something else. He tucked the revolver in his belt and backed away a few steps from the man on the horse. As luck would have it, a wagon with 5 barrels of gunpowder rolled down the street.

"This would be just like Macguyver," Jimmy said aloud.

"What you talkin' bout?" the man said, as he spat a huge wad of tobacco juice a few inches in front of jimmy's shoe.

"Well..." Jimmy said pulling the gun from his belt and firing one bullet into the barrels.

"Look over there!" Jimmy said as he braced himself for an explosion of great magnitude. But instead the wagon disappeared.

"Demon!" the town screamed in unison.

They grabbed Jimmy and tied a noose around his neck. "Hang him now!" the man shouted.

As they pulled the rope Jimmy's breath escaped him. Almost as if it had been planned Jimmy placed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

"Bye." Jimmy said with a wave.

Again Jimmy saw the swirling colors. Jimmy smiled because he knew he had outsmarted those ignorant vigilantes. This was the first time jimmy could think about what he would do next. Jimmy didn't know where he was going or when he would end up. "Maybe I will go where those barrels of gunpowder went." Jimmy thought aloud to himself.

"Where ever you end up be ready," Jimmy said under his breath.

Little did Jimmy know, that when he fired his gun at the barrels he used the bullet that sent stuff to the future, and the one he shot himself sent him back to the past, only in a different location.

Once again the ground was under his feet, it was similar terrain of the old west but he was somewhere else. So Jimmy ran, this time not from a man on a horse but from his fear of what was to come. Jimmy ran until he couldn't run any more. He passed out in the middle of a desert-like wasteland.