“How was beer kept cold in the old west?”
“Well howdy there, partner” said Clay, the owner of the Rusty Spur Saloon. “Howdy” said Jane, the local bad girl of the town. Jane was an ordinary at the saloon, and damn near no one ever tries to mess with her. One day, another cowboy so to speak walks in, a real buff type, leather from head to toe. “Is this the Rusty Spur” said the mysterious man, with a voice as deep as a well full of water. “Yes sir, it is indeed” said Clay. “Well then why don’t you poor me one of them lagers”, uttered the man. “Why don’t you try one more time, a little friendlier how ‘bout it.” mentioned Clay. “Or, you could get me what I asked” said the man. As he said that, he reached for his back pocket and pulled out his revolver. Jane saw what was going on, and reached for hers at the same time. The man quickly drew, realizing that she was a woman. “Much respect for that bravery, lil missy.” “All in day's work” said Jane. “Let me get a sip of that there jack, yeah?” Jane handed him the drink, and as soon as he took a sip, he spat it out instantly. “What is this?!” said the man. “That’s Jack, mister.” exclaimed Jane. “Why is it warm?” said the man. “Why wouldn’t it be” said Jane. The man had realized that he actually travelled back in time into the old west before there were fridges and freezers.
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AuthorDylan Lewis Archives
November 2018
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