The cowboy djinn looked at me with narrowed, glowing eyes. “Three times you must refuse me before I can come in there and eat your face,” he said. “So get to talkin’, buckaroo.”

I was pretty sure there were loopholes that would let him enter the saloon even if I didn’t adhere to the strictures of orthodox ritual. But I had my own bag of loopholes to throw around. 

“I invite you in as my honored guest,” I told him. That would put a crimp in his face eating plans.

He entered as my guest, which gave him  relatively little latitude to cause trouble, but I was sure he would make his best effort to devour me anyway.