“I shot a priest today. And I’m going to get away with it. Hell, I might even get praised for it.  It’s not often a man can say that without the promise of serious jail time or the fear of eternal damnation. But, as you know, it’s what I do. My clients expect a certain focused professionalism when I come to town, and I’m inclined to give them exactly what they want. Call it ‘job security’ if you will. Anyway, after so many years in the community, the school kids thought it was about time somebody shot her.”

“That’s quite the confession.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“Does this mean you’ll shoot me next?”

“Tomorrow perhaps. What time could you be ready?”

“Early afternoon, I have some things to attend to in the morning. Does one-thirty work for you?”


“What should I wear? I mean, how should I dress?”

“Comfortably. In my experience, it always turns out best when my subject is comfortable. You know, one less thing on your mind.”

“I can’t tell you how excited I am! I’ve followed and admired your work for years. I’ve watched you capture humanity in such a beautiful way, time after time. So much compassion, so much dignity, so much truth. Finally, it’s me in front of your lens. Me through your viewfinder. Me…the way you see me. Thank you so very much.”

Story by Dan Bandel



People say I look a lot like him: the writer, the drug guy, the shooter. But I don’t know, I’ve never read him or seen a picture of him, don’t even know who he is.

Who are we talking about, sir?

I don’t know his name. Here, fetch me a cigarette, your presence is making me nervous.

I like your choice of shirt; it suits you.

I like horses, bought it off a guy who said it was meant for a cowboy.

You ever been a cowboy?

Don’t be stupid. I like the films, John Wayne and Jack Palance.

You could pass for one of those guys.

I think I look more like Jerry Lee.

The killer?

Now that guy knew how to live.

He’s still alive.

Get away.

Sir, when I pick up the camera I’d like you to think of someone.

Shall I lose the cigarette?

It’s up to you.

I’ll lose it. Okay, I’m ready.

Got someone in mind?

I have. So please take the picture.

Hunter S Thompson!

That’s not who I’m thinking of.

That’s who people think you look like.

Never heard of him. I’m thinking of a woman.

Good, someone you loved?

Not really, someone who’s long gone.

I won’t pry.




It’s affecting you. She must have been quite a woman.

Don’t go there, son.

I’ll take three pictures and we can pick the best one.

She was the perfect woman. Too good for me. So, she left. Now shoot!

Story by Alan McCormick

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