The British Cowboy

A cowboy rode into town and stopped at the saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the locals always had a habit of picking on those of a British background, which he was. When he finished, he found his horse had been stolen. He came back into the bar, handily flipped his gun into the air, caught it above his head without even looking and fired a shot into the ceiling. “WHICH ONE OF YOU SIDEWINDERS STOLE MY HOSS?” he yelled with surprising forcefulness.

No one answered. “ALRIGHT, I’M GONNA HAVE ANOTHA BEER, AND IF MY HOSS AIN’T BACK OUTSIDE BY THE TIME I FINISH, I’M GONNA DO WHAT I DUN IN TEXAS! AND IIIIIIIIIIII DON’T LIKE TO HAVE TO DO WHAT I DUUUUUN IN TEXAS!” Some of the locals shifted restlessly.

He had another beer, walked outside, and his horse was back! He saddled-up and started to ride out of town. The bartender wandered out of the bar and asked, “Say, partner, what happened in Texas?”

The cowboy turned back and said, “I had to bloody walk home...”