What is it with unfaithful wives and cowboys? Damn, sounds just like my second marriage...
As if we need another reminder to be careful when you're greasin' your ass...
As if we need another reminder to be careful when you're greasin' your ass...
Two Cowboys Settle a Dispute by Andrew Hilbert
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Kershaw liked Sally. Sally was Orel’s woman. Kershaw and Orel were both cowboys.
One day, Orel caught wind of Sally looking out a window wistfully whispering Kershaw’s name while readjusting her panties.
“Sally!” Orel yelled. “Get the fuck outta that window and stop touching your panties. Whose name is it that you beckon, woman?”
Sally stared motionless, tears in her eyes, shivering, hands
still down her panties.
Orel looked out the window and saw Kershaw greasing up his
donkey.
“Shirtless show-off, no good, son of a monkey’s uncle,” Orel
said under his breath as he spit his tobacco. He put on his boots, buckled his
belt, and grabbed his magnum.
“I’m going out there, Sally,” he said, “and when I get back
you better not have them Goddamned hands down your Goddamned undies!”
He looked at her as she removed her hands from her undies. She stared faceless at him.
He looked at her as she removed her hands from her undies. She stared faceless at him.
“And would it kill you to put some Goddamned beans on the
kettle?!” Orel asked as he turned to go. “Just make fer certain you wash them Goddamned
hands. They’s all soiled with dirty juice inspired by that no good donkey
greasing son of a bitch!”
And with that Orel stomped outside.
“Kershaw, stop fondling that fucking donkey and git yer ass
over here!” Orel’s Texan meanness came out when he was angry.
“Yes, Orel, what seems to be the issue betwixt us?”
“The issue is my lady is over there fondling her lady parts
while yer out here greasin’ your ass!”
“Well, Orel, I can’t help somebody else’s wandering eyes…”
“Grease yer goddamn donkey somewhere far away from my
window!”
“Orel, we’re gunna have to settle this the old fashioned
way.” Kershaw grabbed the gun in his gun holster and held it to the sky.
Orel pointed his to the sky, too.
“All right, you son of a bitch,” Orel said. “Whose gun
glistens more in the sun?”
“Any idiot can see mine does!” Kershaw answered.
“Bullshit! Even yer goddamn donkey can see mine is more
magnificent in the sun!”
“Donkey!” Kershaw pointed his gun at his donkey. “Whose is
more magnificent? Mine or his?!”
The donkey turned away and farted.
Kershaw shot him dead.
“Any idiot can see that yer ass was just being honest!” Orel
yelled. “You can’t shoot an honest ass!”
“Honest asses are born every day. I’m raising me a mean
litter of ’em!” said Kershaw.
Orel, with his left eye, spied Sally at the window watching
the two have it out.
“What do you have to grease your donkeys near my window
fer?” Orel asked.
“I can grease my donkey any damn where I please. I prefer a
captive audience.”
This got Orel’s goat. Everyone knew that Orel was piss-shy
at the trough whenever somebody else peed next to him.
“You know that’s unfair. We really should have stalls
installed to our piss troughs. I can’t pee when someone may be peering over my
shoulder.”
“No one said nuthin’ ’bout pissin’, you pussy.” Kershaw shot
into the air and inhaled the gun smoke from his barrel. He tipped his hat
toward the window and winked at Sally, whose face was one of pure ecstasy.
Orel was raging jealous.
“Let’s do paces!” Orel yelled.
“You’re on.”
Kershaw and Orel stood back to back and counted ten paces.
They turned at the exact same time, pulled the trigger at
the exact same time, and hit the ground dead at the exact same time.
Sally burst out of the house screaming and in tears but with
a hand down her panties.
The sheriff rode in at that moment.
“What seems to be the problem, missy?” the sheriff asked and
spit out his chew.
“The men I love. They’s dead!” she yelled.
“It happens out here, dolly,” the sheriff said. He peered
into her eyes, swollen from the tears. “Say, I’ve got some donkeys I need to
grease tonight. What say you saddle up behind me, put your arms around my waist
and we ride to them. I like doing things with an audience.”
Sally’s tears were dry by then. She hopped onto the horse
behind the sheriff.
Time heals all wounds, she thought as the sheriff struck his
spur against his horse and they rode off.
“You sure are purty,” the sheriff said.
Sally held onto the sheriff tightly with one hand, slipping
the other down her panties.
