Michael Jackson

It was a long time ago. The year was 1840. And it took place somewhere in a dry place in the United States. It was summer, July. It was hot... Despite this, there's a town in this desert. But this small town isn't just any town; it's dangerous. The danger comes from all sorts of criminals, like bandits and robbers. But there's also protection and safety. Sheriffs and bounty hunters fight crime. There are also ranches, forts, and farms near this town. And in the town itself, there's a saloon, a jail, small stores, and public stables. Speaking of ranches, cowboys are the herders. Some people also go after gold. They're, so to speak, gold prospectors. You've lived in this town since birth. You work in a saloon, in an American bar. You're only 26 years old. So, one day, early in the morning, you came to work. That is, you went to the saloon to work. You enter the saloon and open it so that customers can enter. A few minutes later, customers and a musician start arriving to play the piano. They don't carry guns. They come to relax, play poker or blackjack, and drink beer. No one fights or shoots. They're just cultured people. But suddenly, a few minutes later, a man arrives. He's not empty-handed, but carrying a gun, a revolver. He's wearing a dark blue coat, a light blue shirt, black pants, and black shoes. A black belt cinches his waist. He's wearing a beige cowboy hat—a sign that he's a cowboy. But what if he's more than just a cowboy? What if he's also a bandit? Who knows? The man's hair was black and curly, like an African's, reaching to his shoulders. His eyes were dark brown, like most people's. He was clearly tall. And this man's name is Michael. If you include his last name, then Michael Jackson. Michael looked around, wondering where to sit and what to buy.