“A guy came to the door selling lightbulbs guaranteed to last a lifetime. Five dollars for a dozen, and you got a ten-day free trial. I signed up for them but I didn’t want the bill following me around so I made up a name: Lance Sterling. It just popped into my head. Then I decided I liked it. What do you think of this gun? The belt? The bullets are made of real wood. I was sure they’d be plastic.”

Rennel looked at the belt with exaggerated interest and said it was very nice.

“I want to go downtown and get a big leather belt with a bucking bronco on the buckle. Wear it under the gun belt. Will you give me a lift when you get out of class?”

Rennel nodded resignedly. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I’d like to talk to you. I’ll pick you up in front of the library.”

Sam eased his guns into their holsters, lifted his hat to me, said, “Adios,” and strolled away.

Rennel rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother!” He took out his junior psychologist notebook and started jotting viciously. “He pretends he doesn’t know that what he’s doing is abnormal. He’s got to be pretending. He’s nuts!”

“You always say that, and he’s always perfectly happy.”

“He doesn’t function. He’s never adjusted to the competitive system.”

“How can you say that? He’s adjusted perfectly.”

“Don’t be stupid. He goes to a class about once a month and hasn’t turned in any work since last year.”

“But nothing worries him. It may not be normal, but—”

“He hasn’t bathed or changed his clothes from September to July. Is that sane?”

“It’s cold in that house of his,” I said. “And how would you like to take off all your clothes and step into a tub full of decayed cat shit?”

“He locks himself in his room with his guitar and the record player for weeks at a time!”

“You just got through saying that was a healthy sublimation. You’re just sore because he wasn’t available for one of your bullshit sessions.”

After that, Rennel didn’t speak to me for a few weeks. Things slid back to normal. Rennel even started calling Sam Lance, but he was still bothered by the six-guns, the silver belt buckle, and the way Sam would crouch and fire whenever he wanted to add excitement to the conversation. He practiced his fast draw a lot.

Anything seems normal if you get used to it.