reallyreallyreallytrying:

i hate it when the sheriff deputizes me to corral the posse of horse rustlers that are holed up in the old saloon. i hate it when the saloon doors swing ominously in the breeze as i mosey on up. i can’t stand it when i inform them that we can do this the easy way or the hard way and am rewarded with a gunshot that ricochets around the canyon and knocks my hat clean off my head. i hate scrambling behind a boulder for protection. i hate it so so much when the shoot out lasts all afternoon, and as night falls i’m finally able to sneak in the saloon’s back door and hogtie the miscreants. more than anything i despise it when the ringleader, awaiting the gallows, asks me if i think there’s a heaven and bids me give his boy his boots