But on Saturday night at ten I had to go to my room, denied watching Marshall Dillon, Doc, and Miss Kitty correct the evils of the old west, as writte... by some screenwriter. It was all fake, the blood, the conflict, the death, the life, it was all pretend. Yet it was too violent. I had the last laugh though, because the next day on Sunday morning, while standing outside of church, I’d overhear my Dad and his friends recounting in great detail last night’s adventures of Marshall Dillon, while. ”“If she’s the princess what does that make me?” Connie hooked out her hip and had her hand on it. She was daring Pat who missed no beat.“You’re my knight commander. Go serve your God-Empress well.”“Goddess-Empress, maybe?” Elizabeth seemed to be asking Xiomara for a real answer. She didn’t get one. Connie looped around Pat and went to the back.“Am I a knight-commander?” Xiomara asked Elizabeth. I smirked.“You’re the First Mate,” I smiled back over her shoulder, “I’m the Pirate King.”“So I’m. More

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