Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Picnic At The OK Corral

Guess'm that folks woulda considered it a company picnic. 'Cept for the shootin.' There was quite a bit of that, I reckon.

Don't know whose bright idea it was to haul a wagonload of squirt guns to that park. Just because we all works together doesn't make us country cousins or somethin'.

Now the barbecue was just fine, as were da taters.. So was the sodie pop, though I coulda settled for some sassafrass tea myself. But then them water pistols showed up and all heck broke loose.

I pulled me out one, tho jest fer self defense. Whilst I sat at the table with the lady folk, I kept it cocked and ready. Felt like I was sittin' at the bar at the Long Branch.

Ever once in a while some dirty-nosed punk would sashay up and commence shootin.' Then I'd have to return fire. At first, it tweren't any worse than a Saturday night in Dodge. In fact, it was a mite fun.

Then some smart-thinkin' feller got one of them thar super soakers out of his wagon. Think maybe he was tipped off ahead of time by some varmint that there was gonna be trouble. Good thing there was nobody there in one of them fancy dan suit and ties.

Some didn't take too kindly to being outgunned. So they dug up some old water buckets from one of those newfangled restrooms they build nowadays. I took shelter behind the bosslady, figuring it to be the safest place.

It wasn't. She got it worse than anybody. Bucket of water from the front and another from behind. She was caught in the crossfire. Man, I don't think I would be brave enough to let the boss have it like that.

Then some punk kid, one of those hands they hire just for the summer, had himself two guns and was primed to shoot anything warm that moved nary a whisker. Two men jest had enough of him and set him face first in the water trough. Goes to prove he was still wet behind the ears.

After that, things pretty much simmered down. Don't know if there was any hard feelings, cept for maybe the marm whose fancy schmancy talking telegraph got doused. She shoulda seen it coming when the guns come out.

Maybe next year the company foreman will see fit to bring us some pigs to rassle.' Or some broncs to ride. It'd be safer.

This is Big Dave, in character, to testify that all I've told you is true. But if the boss happens to read this, I swear I was aimin' for that dirty-nosed kid.


Blogger Kacey said...

You are a clown! Well done, pardner!

6:13 AM  
Anonymous Terri said...

This sounded like a ball....and it's always fun to be a "kid" again. Whether the boss is there or not.

6:21 AM  
Blogger Squirrel said...

What a great idea and a great way to get back at those you don't care for at work! And was that an okie accent?! Were you makin' fun of me? :)

3:05 PM  
Blogger Peter said...

The perfect way to spend a hot afternoon Dave, gettin' gunned down by your work mates.

5:31 AM  
Blogger Michael said...

You've got until next summer to work on those gunslinger skills... I recommend working your way through the Clint Eastwood film collection.

2:44 PM  
Blogger molly said...

Loved this! Sounds like a good time was had by all!

8:27 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


12:47 AM  

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