Being A Cowboy
14/2/96-21/2/96
14 February 1996 - BEING A COWBOY
I've got a new job as a Wild West-style cowboy.
It's quite romantic out here on the prairie: every time I look at a cactus, I think it's a lady, and try to chat it up. When I realise my mistake, I get so angry I smash its top in with an ox's jawbone.
To calm myself down, I have to get a horse to sit on my chest. This so restricts my breathing that I start hyperventilating, which isn't ideal.
15 February 1996 - BEING A COWBOY
My saddle's getting a bit itchy, so today I popped into town to pick up some chaps.
I asked the store-keeper what sort of chaps he recommended, and he told me he'd got a really big pair I could try out. Sadly, they proved far too tight, and I scraped my knees pulling them off.
The next pair fitted like a glove, but when I left, my horse was lame, so the store-keeper let me ride his donkey.
21 February 1996 - BEING A COWBOY
I'm finding it hard to get used to life as a Red Indian.
Some of the stuff they get up to is just so way out. Like, at breakfast, they do this song about how great eggs are – but when I explained how eggs were made, they threw me into a lake.
And when one of the hunters comes back with a buffalo, the chief's youngest son has to "arrest" the slain beast by blowing smoke in its face.
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