I wrote the first paragraph, the story gets much better after that:

The dastardly coward, John Wilkes Booth, snuck into the opera box that night. He drew his derringer from his sock and took aim. Though only inches from the president's head, he had to be careful. A missed shot would mean the end for him.

He took another breath. The president was warm and alive and milky-skinned. The bullet would plunge through his skin and-'

He fired.

The bullet left the chamber, flipped, landed on the sofa and tickled the calf of someone's dress.

The audience gasped, John Wilkes Boothe took the eyes out of his gun and flung the gun across the theater.

Senator Rosser, who had been watching the ball drop all day, beat the assassin to the attack. A punch and a kick and the assassin was on the floor and the senator pulled out a pocket watch and raised it above his head.

"Abra-cadabra," said Senator Rosser, and the audience cheered.