Larson unfolded a screen around a spot in the shack where the tatter-dressed maiden had been dipping her hem in a moat of red paint at opportune moments throughout the night. When Larson was completely shielded from the eyes of the audience, Grant Hart picked up the ax and started hacking through a rope with an oddly tentative swing. But there was nothing tentative about the consequences of cutting the rope: When it broke, a bag of cement mix crashed down on the area where Larson had been hiding. The screens busted and collapsed under the cement bag—but Larson was gone, disappeared.
There was, oddly, no dust this time. Shotgun Shack had come to an end.