All the knocks, kicks, and bangs on the door to the RATS Hole weren't ignored, they simply weren't heard as the list keeper was out, drowning out the sounds with the ***BOOM***s of her Rugers.
Eventually, the peephole opens.
"What's this? One of the "used to be" RATS? Pish and posh, you know you want to own a Ruger, Bushwack Bill, yer number 201."
The teeny eyes move on to the next pard, then blink.
"Eleven Rugers, Judge Bart Rose, and you ask if you are qualified? Oh, please, stop teasing. Yer number 202."
The eyes move on again, then stop, back track and become huge.
"FIFTEEN?!? Fifteen Rugers? Holy Tamoley, Mustang Gregg has to come up with some kind of title for you, Gold Canyon Kid. Maybe something like "Lord of the RATS" Dang, that's a lot of Rugers. Did you check under the seat cushions of the couch for more of them? Yer number 203."
"Mustang Gregg, please tell Mustang Gary he's in, with number 205. If he changes his name, we can fix it on the list.
"Uncle Chan, you posted, are you gonna join up?
"Come on in gents and welcome to the RATS Hole!"
AnnieLee