Henry
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Henry stepped out on the boardwalk. He could smell the distinct odor of horses. He walked over and leaned against the hitching rail. It broke without prior notice and unexpectedly. He fell over in the street on his face. When he came to he was lying in the street on his face. Didn't anyone care about him? He struggled to get to his feet. As he was getting up his hand instinctively went to his gun. As he stood up he came face to face with a man he had never seen before.
"I ain't seen you around these parts before." Henry said.
"Me neither." The stranger replied.
"Well, you just ride on outta here cause my hand went instinctively to my gun when I sensed your presence."
"I ain't got no horse."
The stranger had a hot, soft stare. Or maybe it was a cold, hard stare. Henry couldn't really tell. His head was still spinning.
"You better find one or you'll be walking out through the desert."
"I've decided to just sleep here tonight." The stranger said indignantly.
"I don't like your indignant attitude." Henry replied forcefully.
"You can't force me to do nothing." Said the stranger.
Just then the Sheriff walked by.
"Sheriff, this here feller is causin' trouble." Henry called out.
"Come and get me if he shoots anybody, I'm thirsty right now." Sheriff Willie answered.
With that the Sheriff strode into the saloon and ordered a large barrel of whiskey. Henry became infuriated. He turned around and stalked off in the direction of the stable. He never saw it coming. It smacked him right in the kidney. Ow! What was it? It was a persimmon! The little red haired culprit took off running. Henry fired a quick shot. As soon as he had completed this task he knew that something had gone terribly wrong. His felt a horrendous pain in his right foot. Then he remembered the famous immortalized words. "Draw your gun and squeeze the trigger." He had forgotten the first step. The pain in his foot was a .45 caliber bullet. Henry promptly dropped to his knees. Then he quickly fell over sideways and started screaming in a particularly audible way. As he lay there in the middle of the street he began to ponder his miserable existence. How could he stop the dreadful cycle of mishaps. He ruled out taking his own life because that was against the law. As he lay there, a raindrop fell directly into his eye. That gave him an idea. He struggled to his foot and hopped down the street in the direction of the hotel. He hopped in the front door and up to the counter.
"I need a room." Henry said.
"You already have one, sir." The clerk replied.
"Oh yeah never mind."
Henry hopped over to the stairs and began the painful ascent to the second floor. As he reached the top step he noticed a gold coin lying on the carpet of the second floor hallway. As he reached down to grasp the coin his gun belt caught on the handrail and threw him off balance. Henry desperately reached for the rail for support. But he missed the mark and tumbled all the way down to the lobby. He pulled out his canteen and drank. He gave some to his horse and then drank again. Then Henry remembered something. Not only was his horse not supposed to be in the hotel lobby, his horse was supposed to be headed to San Antonio with him in the saddle. Henry clambered to his knees and then he clambered to his healthy foot. Henry reached for his thesaurus. He wanted to look up the word 'clamber.' "Give my room to someone else." he told the clerk as he and 'Mudflap' hopped and walked respectively out into the warm, night air. Little did Henry know that it was actually the cool, afternoon air that he and Mudflap felt.
"I ain't seen you around these parts before." Henry said.
"Me neither." The stranger replied.
"Well, you just ride on outta here cause my hand went instinctively to my gun when I sensed your presence."
"I ain't got no horse."
The stranger had a hot, soft stare. Or maybe it was a cold, hard stare. Henry couldn't really tell. His head was still spinning.
"You better find one or you'll be walking out through the desert."
"I've decided to just sleep here tonight." The stranger said indignantly.
"I don't like your indignant attitude." Henry replied forcefully.
"You can't force me to do nothing." Said the stranger.
Just then the Sheriff walked by.
"Sheriff, this here feller is causin' trouble." Henry called out.
"Come and get me if he shoots anybody, I'm thirsty right now." Sheriff Willie answered.
With that the Sheriff strode into the saloon and ordered a large barrel of whiskey. Henry became infuriated. He turned around and stalked off in the direction of the stable. He never saw it coming. It smacked him right in the kidney. Ow! What was it? It was a persimmon! The little red haired culprit took off running. Henry fired a quick shot. As soon as he had completed this task he knew that something had gone terribly wrong. His felt a horrendous pain in his right foot. Then he remembered the famous immortalized words. "Draw your gun and squeeze the trigger." He had forgotten the first step. The pain in his foot was a .45 caliber bullet. Henry promptly dropped to his knees. Then he quickly fell over sideways and started screaming in a particularly audible way. As he lay there in the middle of the street he began to ponder his miserable existence. How could he stop the dreadful cycle of mishaps. He ruled out taking his own life because that was against the law. As he lay there, a raindrop fell directly into his eye. That gave him an idea. He struggled to his foot and hopped down the street in the direction of the hotel. He hopped in the front door and up to the counter.
"I need a room." Henry said.
"You already have one, sir." The clerk replied.
"Oh yeah never mind."
Henry hopped over to the stairs and began the painful ascent to the second floor. As he reached the top step he noticed a gold coin lying on the carpet of the second floor hallway. As he reached down to grasp the coin his gun belt caught on the handrail and threw him off balance. Henry desperately reached for the rail for support. But he missed the mark and tumbled all the way down to the lobby. He pulled out his canteen and drank. He gave some to his horse and then drank again. Then Henry remembered something. Not only was his horse not supposed to be in the hotel lobby, his horse was supposed to be headed to San Antonio with him in the saddle. Henry clambered to his knees and then he clambered to his healthy foot. Henry reached for his thesaurus. He wanted to look up the word 'clamber.' "Give my room to someone else." he told the clerk as he and 'Mudflap' hopped and walked respectively out into the warm, night air. Little did Henry know that it was actually the cool, afternoon air that he and Mudflap felt.
Posted by J. No
Filed in Uncategorized |
