Mr. Pritchard Prettipenni, a once rich and reputable man, found himself spiralling down into the depths of sin at the Snakepit.

The wealthy prosecutor arrived in the lawless shanty town of Holy Toledo with his daughter, Priscilla, only to be welcomed into a world where law hung by only a few strings. 

Contrary to its name, the Snakepit towered high in the center of town, painted in the darkest shade imaginable. There were no windows, for what lay behind those walls stayed within them for the sake of innocent eyes. 

Prettipenni puffed on his pipe, straightening his trousers and fixing his monocle. He preferred to look like a gentleman even in the depths of a bordello. 

As he entered, he puffed up a curling wisp of smoke. The attendant greeted him in nothing but leather boots, a ten gallon hat and a two piece bikini. 

"Mr. Prettipenni," said one of the girls in a sultry voice. "We've been expecting you…" 

Pritchard kept a solid foundation over this display. His years in the courtroom had taught him to disguise his feelings. 

"Table for one," he spoke resolutely. "Fix me with some of your finest. I'm meeting someone special tonight."

The attendant swayed as she guided Mr. Prettipenni to one of the tables. Fixed out of rough wood and barrels, Mr. Prettipenni sat down cautiously. 

The girl spoke again, her voice as lavish as her body. "I'll fetch the waitress, hun. She'll tend to your every need tonight."

"Sod's law!"

Richard tried to avert his eyes as she turned around, revealing her backside. He could hardly fathom his precious daughter seeing him in such an accursed place. 

He removed his bowler hat, revealing a bald head with wispy silver strands cascading down onto his shoulders. 

Tonight was the night. 

The night he would finally sort things out for the good of him and his daughter. If all went according to plan they would be free. 

He was greeted by another woman in a shadowy veil that draped over her mouth.

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His old eyes nearly popped when he saw the snake skin bikini covering her body. Or her matching python skin gloves… or the long black hair drifting off her bare shoulders with an additional bun on top.

She batted her long eyelashes from yellow almond shaped eyes and hissed in pleasure. "Ali Asp isssss my name…What can I get you tonight, my morsel?"

"Good heavens," the middle aged man said, nearly fainting at the sight of such a textured and luscious bikini. "You are certainly a nice piece of Asp! But I'm here strictly for business"

The woman's deep voice giggled in mirth and bemusement. "Perhapssss a little something to loosen you up then! How about tonight's special. A Snake Bite…on the rocksssss!"

"Ahem!!! Oh yes, of course!" the gentleman said, finally able to swallow his pride like a snake. "One of those! If you will!"

The woman slinked away in a reptilian fashion and the man blew smoke out his mouth. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad after all. He'd make the deal over alcohol and fine women and soon, he'd be a free man. Then he could return to the courtroom as a respected prosecutor. 

His old eyes surveyed the room, looking for the one person who could set him free. 

His clientele said they would be there, but between all the masked bandits and waitresses, there was no way to see who they were.

His foot tapped nervously. A saloon piano player played the raunchiest blues he ever heard as waitresses served bandits and other ruffians. 

As the hour wore on, a bead of sweat dripped down his neck. 

Perhaps some of that so-called Snake Bite would take the edge off his nervousness. And he still couldn't believe what that waitress was wearing.

Carving up a large snake to wear on her body? It was scandalous and even the loosest girls in New York and London would never do such a thing. 

"Here it isssss," Ali Asp said, arriving beside him. 

She had a tray with a small glass shot on it. He could hardly wait to drink some of that blessed elixir. The man seized the drink and without a word, downed it. 

He winced. 

It tasted harsh. Even for hard liquor.

It twisted and turned unpleasantly as it went from his throat to his gut. 

"Daddy!!!" a voice cried, causing him to leap.

A frothy teenage girl rushed to him with a worried look on her face. 

Her frilly outfit was bright pink and her bushy blonde hair curled in drill-like patterns, both sporting more bows than a bundle of gifts on Christmas day. 

Her pale white cheeks were adorned with more blush than a French aristocrat in the eighteenth century. The whole getup seemed more fitting for snooty nobles playing polo on horseback than a shady western lounge. 

"Pri–Priscilla…" he gasped, horrified that his sweet daughter had found him in this depraved bar. 

She was clutching something in her hands. He could scarcely see what it was, but he could make out a dark bottle with a skull and crossbones on the label. 

Poison?

What had she done? 

The room started to spin as something took hold of him. 

He reached for his daughter one last time. His face turned green and then pale. "Priscilla…" he gasped. "What did you do…to me?"

But it was too late. 

He fell to the floor and his blurry vision soon faded to black. 

Someone had poisoned the watering hole tonight and it seemed to be very own daughter.