Ain't two things more alike than white-hot love and a .44 caliber slug. Both are heavy as all hell and pack a prize-fighter's wallop, and both'll send you to Hell faster than a suped-up Hemi. Bucky contemplated this, listening to the fuzzy Drive-in audio. "Round two," he said, rolling the revolver chamber with a dirty thumb. Nickel clacked, the trigger clicked. But, the damn hammer fell on the damn, lucky five. Tough rocks, he thought, and took another swig of Jackie D. under pale glow of Muddy, Bloody Midnight.