The mole disappeared down the hole and the cowboy drew a six-shooter and said, " Now see here, this town ain't big enough for all of us."
The mole disappeared down the hole and the cowboy drew a six-shooter and said, " Now see here, this town ain't big enough for all of us."
"L'art de la statistique est de tirer des conclusions erronèes a partir de chiffres exacts." Napoléon Bonaparte.
"Je crois que beaucoup de gens sont dans cet état d’esprit: au fond, ils ne sentent pas concernés par l’Histoire. Mais pourtant, de temps à autre, l’Histoire pose sa main sur eux." Michel Houellebecq.
'Actually,' a helpful voice piped up, 'since you crushed Mayor Marjorie, there's a free room in the-' but he was cut off abruptly by a chef wielding a rolling pin.
And then the woman with the spatula (shall we call her Delores?), resisting the Wild-West trope (or is it meme?), attacked the cowboy preemptively with a type of crazy-power that only small-statured women wielding burger-flipping tools possess. As she advanced, she swatted away 44 magnum rounds as though they were flies.
Uhhhh...
(damn sancho you're making me laugh so much xD )
Eventually, reaching the cowboy, Dolores gave one swipe and knocked the revolver from his hands.
Originally Posted by Sancho
you, are very amusing!
What happened next was a blur: Delores grabbed a couple of rhinestone encrusted lapels, twisted in place, and hip threw the cowboy. Once off his feet, the cowboy's size and weight advantage was nullified and Delores delivered her signature, whip-crack, two-knuckle stun punch to the back of his skull, then she pinned his neck to ground with her knee. As he lay there twitching and drooling like a crack baby, Delores snatched the scarf from her head and looped it twice around the cowboy's ankles and twice around his wrists, then she cinched the whole contraption together with an overhand slip knot. She did all this faster than a world-class calf roper on the Pro Rodeo Circuit; except she did it in bizarro world where the cowboy rather than the cow is left bound and helpless on the arena floor.
Delores straightened up and addressed the man on the ground: "You got some 'splaining to do, Roy Rogers."
(Thanks, Volya & Lilimarlene. I've got a weakness for these story-line threads - they're just soooo much fun, and sometimes I go way over my one-sentence limit. I was hooked on this one with Volya's 1st post. It was the perfect entry for a shared story. Cheers!)
Uhhhh...
Roy Rogers ?
I can just see Volya reaching for the Google machine.
"L'art de la statistique est de tirer des conclusions erronèes a partir de chiffres exacts." Napoléon Bonaparte.
"Je crois que beaucoup de gens sont dans cet état d’esprit: au fond, ils ne sentent pas concernés par l’Histoire. Mais pourtant, de temps à autre, l’Histoire pose sa main sur eux." Michel Houellebecq.
*reaches for the google machine*
Roy is an American cultural icon:
His biggest mistake was riding a horse that was better looking than he was.
But memes invite satire:
Yep, that’s a Gucci saddlebag on Cleavon Little’s horse in Mel Brooks’, Blazing Saddles.
Slim Pickens was also in Blazing Saddles:
Which was who GG was channeling when he got us over on this whole cowboy shtick:
Hmmm, so how should the cowboy respond to Crazy-Delores, Hmmm…
Uhhhh...
So, the cowboy thrashed around on the ground for a while, jerking and wiggling, until he could see his tormentor. He said, "Well howdy there, little darling. I do like a feisty woman."
Delores swiftly planted one of her red, pointy-toed, sling-back pumps between the cowboy's ribs, "Can it, Royrogers."
The cowboy grimaced and then smiled broadly, "Mmm-Mmm-Mmm. Boy howdy."
Uhhhh...
In reality she had taken a shine to the cowboy so that night Roy gave her a really good rogering.
"L'art de la statistique est de tirer des conclusions erronèes a partir de chiffres exacts." Napoléon Bonaparte.
"Je crois que beaucoup de gens sont dans cet état d’esprit: au fond, ils ne sentent pas concernés par l’Histoire. Mais pourtant, de temps à autre, l’Histoire pose sa main sur eux." Michel Houellebecq.
El Sancho refuses, on this website, to speculate on what went on between Crazy Delores and Royrogers later that night; and whether or not there was role playing; and if there was role playing, whether or not it involved the rodeo; and if it involved the rodeo, whether or not they went from the calf-roping event to the bronco-riding event; and if they went with the bronco-riding event, El Sancho absolutely refuses to speculate on what exactly the spatula was used for.
I’m a gentleman, you know.
Uhhhh...
Are we going to stay with a one sentence minimum, otherwise the result will be the same as the last two times we tried doing this - a deadend book with one or two people jockeying for position and plot.
I was definately one of the guilty ones last time, just trying to be good this time.
Suddenly, out of nowhere a man in a time machine appears.
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
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