Slayer

“Jim has fallen!” Slim cried, waving his bloodied knife. “He will trouble you no more! Now I am the King of 42nd Street!”

“It really is amazing,” said the bartender, “how strong that man was.”

“It’s true!” added a bar floozy. “I once saw him lift three people on a park bench right over his head.”

The drunk in the corner mumbled unintelligibly. The bartender nodded sagely. “That’s right, Sham. He was a legend.”

Slim shook his fist. “Don’t you understand? He’s gone. Defeated. I defeated him.”

The bartender shrugged. “That’s as may be, but his story is still his.”